Miss Lydia every day is drest
Better than I am in my best
White cambric-muslin frock.
I wish I had one made of clear
Work’d lawn, or leno very dear.—
And then my heart is broke
Almost to think how cheap my doll
Was bought, when hers cost—yes, cost full
A pound, it did, my brother;
Nor has she had it weeks quite five,
Yet, ’tis as true as I’m alive,
She’s soon to have another.
O mother, hear my sister Jane,
How foolishly she does complain,
And teaze herself for nought.
But ’tis the way of all her sex,
Thus foolishly themselves to vex.
Envy’s a female fault.
O brother Robert, say not so;
It is not very long ago,
Ah! brother, you’ve forgot,
When speaking of a boy you knew,
Remember how you said that you
Envied his happy lot.
Let’s see, what were the words I spoke?
Why, may be I was half in joke—
May be I just might say—
Besides that was not half so bad;
For Jane, I only said he had
More time than I to play.
O may be, may be, very well:
And may be, brother, I don’t tell
Tales to mamma like you.
O cease your wrangling, cease, my dears;
You would not wake a mother’s fears
Thus, if you better knew.
Mamma is displeased and looks very grave,
And I own, brother, I was to blame
Just now when I told her I wanted to have,
Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name.
’Twas foolish, for, Robert, Jane sounds very well,
When mamma says, “I love my good Jane.”
I’ve been lately so naughty, I hardly can tell
If she ever will say so again.
We are each of us foolish, and each of us young,
And often in fault and to blame.
Jane, yesterday I was too free with my tongue,
I acknowledge it now to my shame.
For a speech in my good mother’s hearing I made,
Which reflected upon her whole sex;
And now like you, Jenny, I am much afraid
That this might my dear mother vex.
But yet, brother Robert, ’twas not quite so
As that naughty reflection of mine,
When I grumbled because Liddy Bellenger had
Dolls and dresses expensive and fine.
For then ’twas of her, her own self, I complain’d;
Since mamma does provide all I have.