Better to flop in solitude than to demean one's self unwisely.
Won't ketch me selling myself off. I must confess my 'art it 'arrers
To see the Strorberry-Leaves go cheap—like strorberries on low coster's barrers!
Tuppence a pound! Yes, that's the cry. It's cheapness, that Rad fad, that's done it.
Prime fruit ought to be scarce and dear, picked careful, and kept in the punnet.
The same with all chice things I 'old, whether 'tis footmen's carves or peerages;
But fools forget that good old rule in this yer queerest of all queer ages.
Trade bad, things in the City tight, no Court worth mentioning, queer scandals,
Socierty inwaded by a lot of jumped-up Goths and Wandals;
Swell-matches few, gurls' chances poor, late Spring, and lots o' sloppy weather,