I have toiled long enough, and 'tis better to play.
IX.
"But how in the world shall I manage to live?
I might beg all my life, and nobody would give.
'Tis easy enough to be merry and sing,
But living on air is a different thing."
X.
The Spider was silent, and looked very grave—
'Twas a habit he had—the scheming old knave!
No Spider, intent on his labor of love,