But don’t—rememb’ring both are more than seven—
Between two stools come tumbling down from both,
And lose the genial game by doubtful play.
Leonard Harding.
To My Sunday Suit.
Two tricks of trade make bearable my life,
Which else, with all its hunger and its thirst,
Were utter mis’ry—one, to buy on tick
By throwing dust into the tradesmen’s eyes.