"Fortune's a jilt," and "plague upon her!"
You did it all for "Master's honour!"
And though yourselves alone have brought it,
You're first to cry out "Who'd ha' thought it?"
Yet this may caution some on entry,
Not to set up too soon for gentry.
When upon errands you are sent,
(On something else, of course, intent)
And absent more than half the day,
Come back 'not knowing what to say;'