After young water-birds; and you'll get bogged
Setting of eel-traps, and you'll spoil your clothes,
And come home torn and dripping: then, you know,
You'll feel the stick--you'll feel the stick, my lad!

_Enter FRANCES._

_F._ You should not talk so to the blessed babe--
How can you, George? why, he may be in heaven
Before the time you tell of.

_M._ Look at him:
So earnest, such an eager pair of eyes!
He thrives, my dear.

_F._ Yes, that he does, thank God
My children are all strong.

_M._ 'Tis much to say;
Sick children fret their mother's hearts to shreds,
And do no credit to their keep nor care.
Where is your little lass?

_F._ Your daughter came
And begged her of us for a week or so.

_M._ Well, well, she might be wiser, that she might,
For she can sit at ease and pay her way;
A sober husband, too--a cheerful man--
Honest as ever stepped, and fond of her;