‘I’ll give thee treasures without end,
If thou wilt be my friend instead.’
‘My choicest gifts to him I gave,
And ever blest him with my smile;
And yet he ceases not to crave,
And calls me niggard all the while.’
‘Come, sister, let us friendship vow!
So take the money, nothing loth;
Why always labor at the plough?
Here is enough I’m sure for both!’
Sage wisdom laughed,–the prudent elf!–
And wiped her brow, with moisture hot:
‘There runs thy friend to hang himself,–
Be reconciled–I need thee not!’

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