Poem by Anonymous

Accounts Balanced

Whilst Zoilus, with canker’d spite,   
	My reputation slays,
The way that I his spleen requite, –
	Is loading him with praise.

How oddly happy is my case,
	’Tis easy to conceive,
Since whatsoever either says,
	No mortal can believe.

1. Kitty of Coleraine
2. The Haws of Cromdale
3. Now, Robin, Lend to Me Thy Bow
4. The Guard-Chamber
5. Sir Richard Whittington’s Advancement

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