Remember, when you wait at table,
To pick up all the wit you're able,
For bits of songs and scraps of plays
Turn to account a thousand ways;
You'll find yourself downright bewitching
With all the ladies in the kitchen,
Who'll swear you give such rare delight,
That brother flunkeys die with spite,
Venting new slanders without end;
For why? 'a fav'rite has no friend!'