umbob, the prompter man,
Gave with his hand my chaise a shove,
And said, 'Go on, my pretty love;
'Speak to 'em, little Nan.
'You've only got to curtsy, whisp-
er, hold your chin up, laugh, and lisp,
And then you're sure to take:
I've known the day when brats, not quite
Thirteen, got fifty pounds a-night;[7]