THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
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 THESPIAN GLEANINGS, 
 
 A COLLECTION OF 
 
 Comic Recitals, Songs, Tales, &c. 
 
 INCLUDING A VARIETY OF 
 
 COMIC SKETCHES, 
 
 ^ FROM 
 
 DODD'S LECTURE ON JiEAHTS ,- : 
 
 A FARCE CALLED '.f ' '.1 = 
 
 yVHO's TO BL,i;iIE; 
 
 ' ;;.=: 'i;=i; 
 
 NO FOOL LIKE AN OLD ONE ; 
 
 AND MANY ORIGINALS 
 BY 
 
 T. MEADOWS, Comedian. 
 
 *' AN OLD TRITE PROVERB LET ME QUOT-E, 
 '<' AS IS YOUR CLOTH SO CUT YOUR COAT." 
 
 Garrick. 
 
 ULVERSTON, 
 
 Printed by George Ashlurner, and may be had of the following 
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 1MB (PRICE 3s.) 
 
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 Fag 
 
 i8, 
 
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 ?4> 
 
 ERRATA. 
 zgt for brook r^a^f broke."^ 
 2iy/or denouncement read denouement*'' 
 21, y^r poisen'd r^ai poison'd. >^' 
 ZS'>f^ errtom'd read entomb'd.^- 
 z. for Portagueze read Portugiieze, ^ ^ 
 I?, for Dionecius read Dionysius, ^ 
 30. for hefe read hear. ^ 
 >7. for persue read pursue.^
 
 pry 
 
 TO SAMUEL BUTLER ESQUIRE, 
 
 AS A SMALL TRIBUTE OF RESPECTy 
 TO THE MEMBERS AND VISITORS OF THE SOCIETY OF 
 
 STRANGERS AT HOME, or, THEATRICAL CLUB; 
 TO EVERY SON OF THESPIS, AND TO A CANDID PUBLIC, 
 THIS SELECTION IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATES 
 BY THEIR MUCH OBLIGED, 
 
 EVER GRATEFUL AND 
 
 VERY HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 Thomas Meadows. 
 
 Theatre, Ulventone, 
 December litL 1804. 
 
 The Gleaner, most respectfully solicits the pardon of 
 those gentlemen whose performances he has any way abridged 
 oraltered; when he informs them this selection was not origi- 
 naly intended to meet the public eye, but merely collected at 
 various times to serve the purposes of a Benefit, and is now first 
 published at the particular request of several (perhaps too par- 
 tial) friends, he trusts their candour will excuse his thus sub- 
 mitting it to their kind protection <* with all its impcriectioni 
 a its bead." Shaicsjxar (hem), 
 
 899798
 
 STRANGERS AT HOME; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THEATRICAL CLUB. 
 Tune, The Opening Air in the Deserter/ (T. Libdin.) 
 
 X 
 
 HE pate of a poet is often so stor'd 
 With nonsenseand whimsies, andsuch kindof pother, 
 That, at times, the poor varlet is plaguily bor'd. 
 His thoughts and conceits to select from each other : 
 And such, I declare. 
 Is my case to a hair. 
 My brain for a subject, is quite on the rack ; 
 And a good one to chuse 
 Is as hard to my muse. 
 As to draw a court card from a well shuffled pack. 
 
 Thus authors, like gamesters, are puzzled, at times. 
 
 Their skill to exert, in the end to be winners ; 
 Fortho'one plays wi.hcar^j and the other with rhymes^ 
 Yet both on their luck oft depend for their dinners,- 
 Then the suit I select 
 Let good nature protect. 
 Nor trump my best hopes with your critical n/i^ : 
 For setting apart 
 Spade, diamond, or heart. 
 The theme of my ditty, at present, is clubs. 
 
 Master Addison tells us of clubs without end, 
 Of short clubs, of tall clubs, of fat clubs, and lean. Sir, 
 
 Where each man, or crooked or straight, met his friend. 
 And punch, wine, and laugh terenliven'dthescene, Sir: 
 
 Afld
 
 And ev'ry one knows 
 That, in his age of beaux, 
 
 The man who to fashion or dress had pretences, 
 Ty'd a club to his hair 
 That would make a man stare^ 
 
 And frighten a modern fop out of his senses. 
 
 But whatever clubs 1 have brought to your view. 
 Whether fat clubs, or lean clubs, or short clubs, or tall. 
 Sir, 
 
 Let every man here to each other be true. 
 And this is a club that surpasses them all. Sir : 
 For where, if not here. 
 Shall pleasure appear. 
 Where reason and sense mantle over the bowl ; 
 Where to heighten deliglit. 
 Wit and humour unite, 
 And mirth sheds his influence round ev'ry soul. 
 
 Then Strangers at home, "join the world to convince. 
 You have hearts tun'd to harmony, friendship and joy. 
 That your love to each other, your country and prince^ 
 Can never be lessen'd, nor suffer alloy : 
 And may each actor here 
 To distress lend an ear. 
 Whene'er on misfortune he chances to light. 
 May ev'ry one grace 
 His profession and place, 
 And your clubs turn upr trumps ev'ry ienejit night. 
 
 THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 BATTLE OF THE NILE. 
 As recited by Master Meadows, Theatre, Beverly, 
 
 o 
 
 NE moment stay for mercy's sake. 
 And hear a helpless orphan's tale; 
 Ah ! ure my looks must pity wake, 
 
 *Tis want that makes my cheek so pale? 
 
 Yet
 
 7 
 
 Yet I was once a mother's pride, 
 
 And my brave father's Iiope and joy ; 
 But in the Nile's proud fight he died. 
 
 And I am now an orphan boy! 
 
 Poor foolish child ! how pleas'd was I, 
 
 When news of Nelson's victory came ; 
 Along the crowded streets to fly. 
 
 To see the li2hted windows flame. 
 
 To force me home my mother sought 
 
 She could not bear to see my joy : 
 For with my father's life 'twas bouglit. 
 
 And made me a poor orphan boy ! 
 
 The people's shouts were long and lou4. 
 My mother shudd'ring clos'd her ears; 
 
 ** Rejoice rejoice," still cry'd the crowd 
 My mother answer'd with her tears. 
 
 ** Oh! why do tears steal down your cheek,", 
 (Cry'd I) ** while others sRout for joy ?" 
 
 She kiss'd me, and in accents weak 
 She call'd me her poor orphan boy I 
 
 ** What is an orphan boy?" I said ; 
 
 When suddenly she gasp'd for breath. 
 
 And her eyes clos'd ; I shriek'd for aid; 
 But ah ! her eyes were clos'd for death I 
 
 My hardships since I will not tell ; 
 
 But now, no more a parents joy ; 
 Alas ! alas ! I have learnt too well 
 
 " What 'tis to be an orphan boy. 
 
 Oh, were I by your bounty fed ; 
 
 Nay, gentle hearers, do not chide; 
 Trust me, I mean to earn my bread. 
 
 The sailor's orphan boy has pride. 
 
 Ladies, you weep, what is't vou say ? 
 
 You'll give me cloathing, food, employ I 
 Look down, dear parents, look and sce*,- 
 
 Your happy, happy orphan boy ! 
 
 JACK 
 
 ^
 
 8 : 
 
 JACK'S RETURN FROM THE NILE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 Long Look' (1 for come at last. (Meadows.) 
 SUNG BY Ma, Meadows, theatre, kendal. 
 
 NCE more safe back behold Poor Jack, 
 Who aboard the Vanguard enter'd, 
 I left my plough, d'ye see as how. 
 For a Sailor bold I ventur'd ; 
 I'd heard about the plaguy route, 
 Made by this Buonaparte, Sir, 
 And thought it odd this mighty god, 
 ' No one could make to smart, Sir ; 
 With his Puff- Parade, 
 Sword and Swagger, 
 Blood and Dagger, 
 Fol lol lol de ri do. 
 
 With Nelson brave we plough'd each wave, 
 
 In search of England's foe, Sir, 
 Determined soon, and to some tune, 
 
 Straitway to let him know. Sir ; 
 That British Boys without much noise. 
 
 Spite of his Gasconading, 
 To protect their right will bravely fight. 
 
 Nor e'er fear his invading ; 
 With his &c. 
 
 Our voyage too long, was thought among 
 
 The brave boys, of our fleet. Sir, 
 So eager they, *' how d'ye do" to say. 
 
 And Buonaparte to beat. Sir: 
 But he before had gain'd the shore. 
 
 And sav'd himself a drubbing. 
 Or to Davy Jones we'd sent his bones. 
 
 And given his hide a scrubbing ; 
 With his &c. 
 
 :But
 
 But tho' we lost the mighty boast j 
 
 And pride of the great nation. 
 We cruised away both night and day, ,^ 
 
 Nor ere did quit that station, 
 Till their fleet we 'spied, ail hands, we cried, 
 
 'Tis now brave boys or never. 
 Revenge the cause of King and laws, 
 England and George for ever ; 
 Without Parade, 
 Puff or Swagger, 
 Make'em Stagger, 
 Fol lol lol de ri do. 
 
 The Glorious fight began near night. 
 
 With more than common fury, 
 On both sides fought and Victory bought. 
 
 Full dear, I do assure ye ; 
 Nine sail we've ta'en lords of the main. 
 
 The French fleet, we have fast Sir, 
 Then let us sing, ** God save the King," 
 Long look'd for's come at last Sir; 
 Without Parade, 
 Puff or Swagger, 
 Made'em Stagger, 
 Fol lol lol de ri do. 
 
 Thus ever happy may we be. 
 
 While we nave such defenders. 
 In Nelson's praise your voices raise, 
 
 The scourge of all pretenders; 
 Long may he live each foe to give. 
 
 Just such another beating. 
 And soon proud France be made to dance. 
 For peace here humbly treating; 
 No more Parade, 
 Puffor Swagger, 
 Blood or Dagger, 
 Fol lol lol de ri do. 
 
 A LECTURE
 
 10 
 
 ^ A LECTURE on LECTURES. 
 
 IN THE CHARACTER OF 
 
 DOCTOR LAST ; (G. S. Carey.) 
 
 ADIES and Gemmen. lam going presently, asyou 
 will presently find, to give you a Lecture on Lectures, 
 but first and foremost I think it necessary that I should 
 give some account of myself, because as why, a man 
 who can give no account of himself, is to all intents 
 and purposes a vagram. 
 
 First, as to my name. Emanuel Last, at your service, 
 by trade (when I used to follow it,) a shoe maker : but 
 happening to see one of your Lecturers in our tow^n, I 
 was inspired as it were, and knowing him to be no bet- 
 ter a schollard than myself, I took off my apron , threw 
 ^ovfn my lap-stone y kick'd up my last, gave up my awl, 
 
 and so set off to Lecture I was a long time before 
 
 I could detarmine with myself what subject to begin 
 upon, at last Stronomy came into my head, but I found 
 the stars were out of my reach, and when ever I dipp'd 
 into that science, I was presently lost as it vyere in a 
 
 cloud Then Ottaniy came into my head, I was at 
 
 home to a peg in Ottamy; for as to plucking out a tooth, 
 picking out a corn, or curing the dry-gripes, nobody is 
 
 jnore skilfull than myself- but when I came to the 
 
 imputation of a leg, and as I am naturally tender heart- 
 ed, I found it too cutting a business for me Then, 
 
 says I to myself, what think'st thou, master Emanuel, of 
 Chymistry ? I thought as how that business was some- 
 thing in my way, for as to your consalves and preserves 
 nobody is more lamed in that way than myself ; but 
 then, thinks I again, some of my auditors may have an 
 objection to the name oi physic, and physic now a days 
 is nothing but a drug-- then Heraldry came into my 
 head ; but happening to see the king's arms on a hackney 
 coach, I thought the dignity of that science was gone 
 to the dogs. I was advised by a friend to set about Mid- 
 wifery, but my mind was big with a thousand appre- 
 hensions
 
 II 
 
 hensions when ever I thought on Midwifery ; so I gave ^ 
 it up, because I thought I should never be able to de- 
 liver myself on that subject 1 would have set about 
 
 a Lecture on heads ; but I found master George Alex- 
 ander Stevens, had dissected every head in the kingdom 
 so well, that I should have been set down as one of his 
 
 block-heads, if I had meddled with ever a one 1 
 
 thought the heart wou'd be no bad subject ; but I cou'd 
 find so very few good ones, that I had not a heart to set 
 
 about it Thinking of bad hearts put the law into 
 
 my head, and I thought a Lecture on the law would be 
 no bad thing ; then says I to myself, the law is no good 
 thing in itself, but would it not be better if I could 
 make a good subject out of it, I thought and I pon- 
 der'd about it, till I found myself, like a poor fly in a 
 cobweb: the law always puts me in mind of a coffin, 
 
 once in never out again If none of these subjects 
 
 will do, what in the name of Lucifer will do? Luci- 
 fer! who the devil is Lucifer? A great Orator mzy- 
 
 hap Odds bobbs, an Orator it came directly in- 
 to my head that a Lecture on Oratory would be the 
 best thing I could set about, and so 1 begins my Lecture 
 
 on Oratory, Ladies and Gemmen, now according to 
 
 the lamed, and I am something of a schollard myself. 
 Oratory means Jawing, because no orator can speak 
 without his Jaws; perhaps you'll think I can't give you 
 a Xziin dcvinalion for it ; now you'll find yourselves mis- 
 taken. What is english {or Os? Why boneto be sure, 
 and the Jaws being full of bones they are fix'd proofs 
 that the word oratory comes from Os now I think it is 
 necessarythatyou should know what an Orator is: And 
 what is it, you will say. I answer itisaman And what 
 is he to do ? I answer to speak words. And what are 
 words? I answer: letters put together: but there can be 
 no word without a wowel ; because why : Why do ye 
 see, because there can't What are the necessary qua- 
 lities of an Orator? The first he must spit; then wipe his 
 mouth; then lay his hand upon his heart; then turn up 
 his eyes ; then out comes a word; then another follows 
 it ; and then, like a post horse, let him get on as fast as he 
 
 can
 
 12 
 
 can An Orator should be a good jnimic too odds 
 
 bobbs now I talks of mimics I must take care what I 
 am about for I am surrounded by mimics here and they 
 will be for taking me off perhaps now you shall see f 
 will save them the trouble, and take myself off. 
 
 (Runsojf.) 
 
 THE LAND IN THE OCEAN. (T. Dibdin.) 
 
 Tune " Meg of Wapping." 
 
 JLN the midst of the sea, like a tough man of war. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, yo ho there, 
 iStands an Island surpassing all others by far. 
 
 If you doubt it you've only to go there ; 
 Hy Neptune 'twas built upon Freedom's firm base. 
 
 And for ever 'twill last I've a notion, 
 All the world I defy to produce such a place. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, pull away, pull I say 
 As the snug bit of land in the Ocean. 
 
 Trom the opposite shore, pufPd with arrogant pride. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, so clever. 
 They've oft swore as how they wou'd come along side^ 
 
 And destroy the poor Island for ever; 
 But Britannia is made of such durable stuff. 
 
 And so tightly she's rigg'd, I've a notion. 
 She'd soon give the saucy invaders enough. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, &c. 
 If they touch'd at the land in the Ocean. 
 
 There was Howe, ever bold in the glorious cause. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, so stout boys, 
 Who gain'd on thejirst day of June, such applause. 
 
 And Mounseer, he put to the route boys. 
 The next was St. Vincent who kick'd up a dust. 
 
 As the Spaniards can tell, I've a notion, 
 
 Fer
 
 IS 
 
 For they swore not to strike, says he " Dam me but 
 you must," 
 Pull away, pull away, &c. 
 To the lads of the land in the Ocean. 
 
 Adam Duncan came next 'twas in Autumn you know. 
 
 Pull away, pull away so Jolly, 
 That he made big Mynheer strike his flag to a foe. 
 
 Against whom all resistance was folly; 
 And they sent as you know, if you're not quite a dunce,' 
 
 But a sad Story home, I've a notion. 
 So Duncan he beat a whole Winter at once. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, &c, 
 What d'ye think of the Land in the Ocean. 
 
 Now the Frenchmen again have come in for their share,' 
 
 Pull away, pull away, so hearty. 
 For Nelson has set all the world in a stare. 
 
 And land lock'd the great Buonaparte ; 
 And we'd beat them again should their stomachs 
 incline, 
 
 But they're all pretty sick Pve a notion. 
 Then may Victory's sword to the Olive resign. 
 
 Pull away, pull away, &c. 
 And Peace crown the Land in the Ocean, 
 
 THE JOLLY DYER. (T. D'lbdin.) 
 
 suNO BY Mr. Meadows, theatre, kendal. 
 Tune, " A plague of your pother about this or that." 
 
 I 
 
 N this world so extensive ho\t many, to eat. 
 Will laugh or will cry, will pray, or will cheat, 
 But for nie, I exist quite a different way. 
 For the better to live Sirs, I dye every day. 
 Tol lol &c. 
 
 Your
 
 H 
 
 Your doctors may physic, your counsellors talk, 
 . Your pugilists box, your pedestrians walk ; 
 By the deaths of their friends, undertakers get pelf. 
 But my living arises from dying myself. 
 Tol lol &c. 
 
 In the noose matrimonial how many are fast, 
 A knot ty'd so firm, it for ever must last ; 
 
 But, with us men of colour, 'tis loosen'd with ease, 
 For we make our wives die whenever we please. 
 Tol lol &c. 
 
 Mankind we distinguish by different hues. 
 
 And know, by their colours, Turks, Frenchmen, or 
 Jews ; 
 Yet we never, like West-India planters, good lack. 
 Would oppress a poor brother, because he's dy'd 
 black. 
 
 Tol lol &c. 
 
 What are all your great patriots, who gain such applause. 
 By saying they'd die for their country and laws; 
 
 Were they to perform all their promises speak. 
 
 They could only die once, while we die all the week, 
 Tol lol &c. 
 
 May dying still live and may trade never dicy 
 May our country's colours all colours outvie ; 
 
 May the blessings of Peace make each honest heart sing. 
 Success to Old England and long live the King. 
 Tol lol &c. 
 
 A FIG FOR INVASION ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SNUG LITTLE ISLAND. 
 
 XJaDDY Neptune, one day, to Freedom did say. 
 If ever I live upon fir;y land, ^ 
 
 The spot I should hit on, would be httle Britain, 
 Says Freedom, why that's my own Island ;
 
 *5 
 
 Oh what a snug little Island, 
 
 A right little, tight little Island, 
 
 AH the globe round. 
 
 None can be found. 
 
 So happy as this little Island. 
 
 JuVnis Qesar the Romany who yielded to no man. 
 
 Came by water, he coudn't come hy land. 
 And DanCy Pid and Saxon, their homes turn'd their 
 backs on. 
 And all for the sake of our Island ; 
 
 O what a snug little Island, 
 
 They'd all have a touch at the Island, 
 
 Some were shot dead. 
 
 Some of them fled. 
 
 And some'stay'd to live in the Island. 
 
 Then a very great war man call'd Billy the Norman, 
 
 Cried damn it I never lik'd my land, 
 It would be much more handy to leave this Normandy,' 
 And live on yon beautiful Island ; 
 
 Says he 'tis a snug little Island, 
 
 Shan't us go visit the Island, ' 
 
 Hop skip and Jump, 
 
 There he was plump, 
 
 And he kick'd up a dust in the Island. 
 
 Yet party deceit help'd the Normans to beat. 
 
 Of traitors they managed to buy landy 
 j&y DanCf Saxon or Pict, we ne'er had been tick'd. 
 Had they stuck to the King of their Island ; 
 
 Poor Harold the King of the Island 
 
 He lost both his life and his Island, 
 
 Thats very true. 
 
 What could he do, 
 
 Like a Briton he dy'd for his Island. 
 
 The Spanish Armada set out to Invade-a 
 Quiiesure if they ever came nigh land. 
 
 They coudn't do less, than tuck up Queen Bess, 
 And take their full swing in the Isla/id; 
 
 . Oh
 
 i6 
 
 Oh the poor Queen and the Island, 
 
 The drones came to plunder the Island. 
 
 But snug in her hive, 
 
 The Queen was alive, 
 
 And buzz was the word in the Island, 
 
 These proud puff'd up cakes thought to make ducks 
 and drakes, 
 Of our wealth, but they scarcely coul'd spy land. 
 E'er our Drake had the luck to make their pride duck. 
 And stoop to the lads of the Island ; 
 
 Jfluzza for the lads of the Island, 
 
 The good wooden walls of the Island, 
 
 Devil or Don, 
 
 Let'em come on, 
 
 But how would they come off at the Island. 
 
 1 dont wonder much, that the French and the Dutch, 
 
 Have since been often tempted to try land, 
 And I wonder much less, they have met no success. 
 For why should we give up our Island ; 
 Oh 'tis a wonderful Island, 
 All of them long for the Island, 
 But hold a bit there. 
 Let'em take fire and air. 
 But we'll have the sea and the Island. 
 
 Then as Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept 
 tune. 
 In each saying this shall be my land; 
 Should the army of England, or all they could bring 
 land. 
 We'd shew'em some play for the Island; 
 
 We'd fight for our right to the Island. 
 
 We'd give them enough of the Island, 
 
 Frenchmen should just. 
 
 Bite of the dust. 
 
 But not a bit more of the Island. 
 
 A COMIC
 
 17 
 A COMIC BURLESQUE TRAGIC BAGATELLE -^r-. 
 (in one act) 
 
 CALLED 
 
 L I N D A M I R A; 
 
 O R, 
 
 TRAGEDT A LA MODE. ( Foote. ) 
 
 CHARACTERS. {Haymarhet Theatre, 1763. ) 
 
 Fustian, (an Author) - - - Mr. Foote. 
 
 Project, (the Manager) - - Mr. Kennedy. 
 
 Crontes, (the King j - - - Mr. 
 
 Tribus, (the Confidant) - - Mr. 
 
 and Golcondus, (the Hero) - Mr. Wilkinson. 
 
 Princess Lindamira, - - - Mr. Pearce. 
 
 SC'.^'. I. A Front Chamber. 
 
 Enter PROJECT meeting FUSTIAN. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 Mr. Fustian, your most devoted, this is a lucky en- 
 counter, a most happy opportunity to communicate 
 your plan. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Sir, I have many, and most of tnem calculated to 
 punish that insolent, self sufficient race of people called 
 players ; who tho' but the midwives of the muses, have 
 the arrogance to elbow and jostle us poets, the heirs 
 apparent of Parnassus, the genuine offspring of Apollo. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 They are a little overbearing Fustian, but these gentry- 
 are so frequently clothed with imaginary royalty, that, it 
 is no wonder if they now and thea forget their ^leal 
 characters. 
 
 B FUiTIAN.
 
 1% 
 
 FUSTIAH. 
 
 Let them consider, Mr, Project, to whom they owe 
 their crowns and sceptres ; why, I sir, little as I seem to 
 be, have made no less than three Emperors, two Chams 
 of Tartary, five Roman Consuls, and a Pope, and yet 
 these rascals are as forgetful to whom they owe their 
 power as a Member ot Parliament of his constituents 
 the day after his election but I'll clip their wings, I'll 
 humble their pride. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 How? Mr. Fustian. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Why Sir, I have two schemes, the first is to sweep 
 the Actors entirely from the stage. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 What Sir, shut up the Theatres? 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Wide of the mark, shut up the Theatres, no Sir, 
 my design is to furnish it with an entire new race of 
 beings. I have a scheme of introducing a set of Actors 
 beautiful in their persons, decent in their demeanor 
 and of an exceeding nice morality, in short 
 ** A blameless race of souls sincere, 
 ** In action faultless, and in honour clear : 
 ** Who broltkano promise, serv'd no private end, 
 ** Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend :" 
 In a word Sir, they are a set of puppets. 
 
 ' PROJECT. 
 
 Oh ! Zooks, they will never do. 
 
 FUSTIAW. 
 
 Why not, Mr. Project ; reflect only on how many 
 puppets you meet in the world but I had better com- 
 municate the other I have, you will then be more able 
 to advise. 
 
 PROJECT.
 
 ^9 
 
 PROJECT, 
 
 Pray let me hear it? 
 
 FUSTIAK. 
 
 Why tho' as I can't in the first instance banish all 
 living beings from the stage, yet I have contrived to do 
 the whole business of the scene by the aid of one per- 
 sonage only, and that is nearly as well ; what a deal qf 
 useless pains and unnecessary time our modern bards 
 fsome few excepted) have bestow'd on their tragedies; 
 five acts its true the laws of the Stage require, bur <Jould 
 not we contrive by retrenchingall superfluous person- 
 ages, by pruining irregular shoots and lopping diseased 
 limbs to compress all the pith and matter of these five 
 acts into fifteen minutes. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 A very ingenious contrivance, but how will the 
 public relish the steriUty of the repast. 
 
 FUSTIAW. 
 
 You mean the want of variety of characters, lack a 
 day Mr. Project, its not the play but the player, not the 
 exploits of a Richard or a Tamerlane but the fafne 
 of his representative that the people come to see, if 
 then we can get rid of all the supernumerary person- 
 ages, and plit the whole business of the scene into one 
 mouth, we can ease the poet's labour, lessen the mana- 
 ger's expence, save our own timfe, and produce the 
 favourite actor. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 But how can that be done? 
 
 FUSTIAK, 
 
 Nothing SO easy, I have here a piece (flakes it out of 
 his pocket) that not only clearly demonstrates the pos- 
 sibility but propriety of the design, my title is ** tiJN- 
 DAMIRA; or, LOVE 'TILL DEATH, and my 
 characters arc 
 
 GoiCOKDUS,
 
 96 
 
 pOLCONDUs, (the Hero.) 
 Crontes, {the King.) 
 
 Tribus, {the Confidant.) 
 
 and LiNDAMiRA, {the Princess.) 
 
 The Hero to be play'd by the favourite Actor, the 
 other characters by Pantomimic Performers, or Dum- 
 my s. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 Dummys. 
 
 FtJSTlAN. 
 
 Yes, for as nobody but the hero is to speak, of what 
 materials the other characters are constructed is very 
 indifferent. 
 
 PROJECT, 
 
 The thought is new, and a great deal will depend 
 n the execution. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 I see you still have your doubts, but mark the end, 
 and if I don't produce every character, incident, em- 
 barrass, discovery, surprise, if my plot is not regular, 
 my denouiwemeHt natural, and my catastrophe affect- 
 ing, if my sentiments are not strong and my similies 
 striking, Jock me from pen and ink for ever. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 You promise much. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Nay more, not a groan nor a grumble, nor a twist 
 nOr a twine, not a stab nor a start, not a reel nor a rant, 
 "but my Prince shall produce in the progress of the 
 piece but come be seated (they sit) I've dressed one 
 of the scene shifters as Tribus the confidant ; and as the 
 first scene of a tragedy is from the banging of doors, 
 the rustling of silks and the mediocrity of the perform- 
 ers seldom attended to, and contains indeed little more 
 tkan a map of the country where the poetical magic 
 
 has
 
 21 
 
 has convey'd us with anaccountofthe King, the Queen,' 
 and the rest of the house, you will not grudge giving 
 that up. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 No, no not, I assure you. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Well then let's have a Royal chamber (scene drams 
 vp) and now, enter Golcondus and Tribus, meeting, 
 
 COLCONDUS. 
 
 Welcome, thou bosom partner of my soui,' 
 ; Let me repose within thy faithful breast 
 The anguish that torments me ; 
 *Twas on the fatal day that Crontes 
 Join'd in wedlock with Dardella, 
 At early dawn I sought the wood's recess, 
 There musing mop'd the lazy minutes march'd. 
 With slow and solemn pace, when to my view,- 
 A radient form appear'd ; divinely bright! 
 *Twas Lindamira's self, my friend; in all 
 Her heaven of beauty, 
 Think'st thou the Matchless maid will hear 
 My vows, 
 
 Tnink'st thou the King will e'er refuse her 
 To me. 
 Oh ! oh! I cannot bear the thought? 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Now then for Lindamira, 
 
 ILnter lindamiha (with train and Page. J 
 
 GOLCONDUS. 
 
 But soft ye now, for Lindamira comes ; 
 
 Oh ! cruel maid, if ever faithful lover (kneels) 
 
 Doated like me, if ever Oh! by all (she raiseshim) 
 
 And dost thou yield she does she does 
 
 Ye waters gently glide- winds catch 
 
 Tht 
 
 I
 
 23 
 
 The sound-- 
 jj. -Oil ! thou enchanting fair ! 
 - Stars fnll from heaven, suns forget to rise 
 And Chaos come, when Lindamira dies ; 
 
 (Leads her off) 
 
 FUSTIAN, 
 
 Here ends tlie act. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 Its very short. 
 
 FUSTIAM. 
 
 True but every thing is done the dramatic laws re- 
 quire you are introduced to the characters the plot 
 unfolds and there is the appearance of a happy catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 True. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Now the rules require that the next act must throw 
 a rub in the way, so re-enter the Prince in deep 
 reflection. 
 
 Enter golcondus (musing.) 
 
 How frail is man, 
 
 Perplex ! surely the gods (trumpet) 
 Btit hark, the sprightly trumpet speaks 
 The King's aproach down, down my heart. 
 
 E7iter cRONTES (the King.) 
 
 G'l Royal Sir ! {kneels) if e'er your suppliant slave 
 
 ( Exit King) 
 I low (rises) refuse^ ! darkness and Devils, 
 Down to hell allegiance. 
 
 Enter LinvAyiiRA. 
 
 Oh my fair, art thou too witness of my dire disgrace 
 Say, can a father's harsh command 
 Controul? then thou ne'er lov'dst 
 Cursed be th? hours, the trees, 
 
 The
 
 23 
 
 The sun, the sex and every thing 
 But her, (she faints) Oh my rash tongue. 
 Ah ! see she faints, she faints (supports her) ah ! 
 She revives, revives. Oh e'xtacy ! 
 And wilt thou seek with me some happier shore 
 Where fathers, mothers, friends we'll meet no more 
 The merchant thus at home a bankrupt made 
 Seeks out another clime and drives another trade. 
 (^Exit leading lindamira.) 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Weir how do you like the progress ? 
 
 PROJECT, 
 
 Infinitely ; you have given the rub, and the removal, 
 but how do you mean to proceed ? 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Most naturally the Lovers are now, you are to sup- 
 pose, to meet in the Palmy grove you have a Palmy 
 grove Mr. Project, ah ! 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 I'm afraid not; \M have a cut wood a 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 That will do, that will do, they are to meet I say in 
 the Grove and prepared for flight, there we must raise 
 a storm, sadden the scene, dasn all their hopes, Bjj^d 
 deepen their distress. 
 
 PROJECT, 
 
 You've a world of business. 
 
 FUSTIAN, 
 
 Busy as bees come d'ye hear, darken the stage, 
 change the scene and then re-enter the Hero, first, as 
 in duty bound. 
 
 SCENE
 
 24 
 
 SCENE changes to a Grove {stage darken' d) 
 Kilter eoLCONDUs. 
 
 Night, blackbrow'dnight^queen of theionwand^ 
 Has o'er the world her sable mantle thrown. 
 While Philomela in melodious strains, 
 Sing her sad sorrows to the list'ning winds. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 These are lines Mr. Project. 
 
 PTOJECT. 
 
 Poetical indeed. 
 
 FUSTlAir. 
 
 Fine, " to the list'ning winds."" 
 
 GOLCONDUS. 
 
 The Starry host- 
 But hush, my soul, for Lindamira comes. 
 
 Enter lindamira. 
 
 She comes, welcome, my love ! for thy 
 Approach, e'en time itself st(|od still. 
 
 l-USTIAH. 
 
 And here in compliance to time, the lovers stand stiE 
 ioo, and in the midst of a sentimental conference on 
 lo'/e, V'l tiie, the moon and the seven stars, are surpriz- 
 ed by the King's Guards. 
 
 Enter 4 ouards, (2 on each side') they seize both. 
 
 aOLCONDUS. 
 
 Doe-s will you tear her from me. 
 Let loose your hold. 
 You must not, shall not partus. 
 My heart strings crack, my eye balls roll. 
 And quite deform the fashion of my soul ! 
 So the first man from Paradise exil'd, ^ 
 "With fond reluctance veiws the blooming wild ? 
 
 Robb'd
 
 5 
 
 Robb'd of the dear companion of his flight. 
 To all his former pleasures bids a long good nighty 
 Love death destraction fire water 
 Oh ! farewell for ever. 
 
 (Both forced off on contrary sidesy 
 
 Scene the palace. (Lamps upy. 
 
 A shout flourish of Trumpets then enter the Prince, 
 
 GOLCONBUS. (speaks as entering^ 
 
 Thank ye, my friends, thank ye my 
 
 Fellow subjects, for ye have given me liberty. 
 
 Ye have given life ; but what is life 
 
 Without my Lindamira ? but see 
 
 By heavens she comes, 
 
 'Tis 'tis she! and we shall still be happy. 
 
 Enter lindamira (lueeping, her hair dishevelled, Sfc. ) 
 
 What means that bosom's heaving. 
 Why bursts those tears, speak Lindamira! 
 Destruction, no, he could not, durst not. 
 Marry thee, force thee to be another's. 
 Oh my sad soul ! what means that haggard eye. 
 That drooping lip (she whispers him) ah i poiswi'd 
 Say'st thou ? 
 
 Is it so, ah see she dies, she diQ& (Lindamira falls') 
 She's dead- 
 Well, well, well, what, what then becomes of me J 
 Oh ! I will follow my advent'rous love (Trumpet) 
 But hark the King-- 
 
 Enter crontes and tribus. 
 
 I'll like a serpent steal into his bosoniif 
 
 And sting him home (stabs the King with hisfst) 
 
 This for myself, (stabs himself also with his Jist) 
 
 This too is well, (Tribus offers to stab himself) 
 
 Tribus, I cfiarge thee live, 
 
 Oh I If humanity can touch thy breast, 
 
 EntomlW with Lindamira let me r^st; 
 
 Tell my sad tale thit all the world may wep 
 
 I'm
 
 Fjn very sick, one kiss (kisses Ltndamira) good 
 
 night I'm fast asleep. (^Dies) 
 (JlYibus falls after supporting hiniy as dead also,) 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Is it not marvellously mournful ? 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 Butwhere is the application, Mr. Fustian, who gives 
 the moral ? 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Why, as all the characters (for you are to suppose 
 Tribus, to have died of a broken heart,) are tongue- 
 tied by death, I intend to clap the moral into the Epi- 
 logue, which may be given according to the custom of 
 the stage, by the deceased Prince, come will your 
 highness condesend to rise up, and give us the finish- 
 ing stroke with dignity and deliberation. 
 
 GOLcoNDus. (rises) 
 
 Let cruel parents learn from woes like these. 
 To wed their daughters where their daughters 
 please. (^Exit Golcondus) 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 Ay marry that is wholesome advise, and I dare say 
 will be universally follow'd, at least be much admired 
 by the ladies. 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 Ay-ay-Mr. Project, my plays will not only mend the 
 stage, but the whole world, but I've not half done, 
 hitherto I have only bounc'd in the. buskin, now see 
 
 how genteely, I slide into the sock, my comedy is 
 
 {taking out papers) 
 
 PROJECT. 
 
 Oh 'twill fatigue you too much, besides 'tis my hour 
 of dining, if you'll communicate over a bottle. 
 
 . FUSTIAN.'
 
 7 
 
 FUSTIAN. 
 
 With pleasure. 
 
 To this one mark, all my ambition tends, 
 When here to please the town, at home my friends^ 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 N. B. When this piece was first acted by Mr. Foote with paste- 
 board figures, it entirely failed in the effect, but with Per- 
 formers ridiculously pompous, and iti fierce whisker'd 
 high tragedy, the effect of the dumb actors, was truly 
 comic, and received unbounded Applause. 
 
 * Vide Wilkinson's Wandering Patente.'* 
 
 M. 
 
 FATHER AND I. 
 
 .OTHER were dead and sister were married. 
 
 And nobody at home but Father and /, 
 So I thought before I lonojer tarried. 
 
 To get a good Wife my fortune I'd try ; 
 But I swore she the model should be of my mother. 
 
 For never was a better wife under the sky. 
 So we mounted our Nags to find such another. 
 
 And set out a courting Father and /. 
 
 Farmer Chaff have a daughter that's famous for breed- 
 ing, 
 
 That do dance and do play, an do sing an do write. 
 But she ne'er would talk, she were always a reading, 
 
 'Bout ravishments, devils and Ghostes in white; 
 Zounds Girl says I, at that fun you wont find I, a good 
 one, 
 
 At other guests fish you must fry. 
 For the wife for my money must make a good pudding. 
 
 So I wish you a good morning Father and /. 
 
 But lord Farmers daughters be as bad as their betters,i 
 For prudence and decencys left in the lurch. 
 
 They paint faces and pictures, write stories and letters. 
 And look like' Ghostes standing up in a church ; 
 
 Instead
 
 88 
 
 Instead of staying at whome, shirts and table-cloths 
 darning, 
 
 Or pickling of cabbage or making a pie. 
 All the Clodpoles are standing a^/on^W at their laming, 
 
 Sad wives for the hikes of Father and /, 
 
 As to Lunnon to manage like other folk scorning. 
 
 They sit down to breakfast, when we went to sup. 
 At midnight they din'd, they sup'd in the morning. 
 
 And where going to bed, at the time we got up ; 
 Then so poor (but lord that I'd no heart to make fun 
 on,) ^ 
 
 They coudn't afford any covering to buy. 
 So shivering with cold we the girls left in Lunnon, 
 
 And came back to Country Father and /. 
 
 So just as we didn't know what to be a'ter. 
 
 Odds wounds cried Father a neighbour O'mine, 
 Died a twelve month ago, left a sister and daughter. 
 
 And they both can milk cows an make gooseberry 
 wine; 
 On to see 'em we went, this fell out on a Sunday, 
 
 Na Icok'd shilly, shally, or foolish, or shy, 
 The licence we bought on the very next Monday, 
 
 They were both of them married to Father and /.-^ 
 
 THE UNITED ENGLISHMEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 EVERT MAN A VOLUNTEER. 
 
 JUNG BY Mk. Meadows, theatres, Richmond, whitby, 
 
 RIPON, &c. 
 
 Tune " Good Q^een Bess." 
 
 Xn times like these, pop,. cut and slash, this monstrous 
 fighting age. Sir, 
 When Shoulder, fire and face about, is every where 
 the rage. Sir, 
 
 When'
 
 29 
 
 When Britons arm In Britain's cause, wliat foes Can 
 make us fear, Sir, 
 And where's the lads more loyal than our British 
 Volunteers, Sir ; 
 Then merrv be the lads who fight for Commons, King 
 and Peers, Sir, 
 And may prosperity attend our British Volunteers, 
 Sir. 
 
 Tho' not alike in shape or size, our sentiments agree. 
 Sir, 
 Should Frenchmen doubt our patriot zeal e'en let 
 them come and see. Sir, 
 And tlio' were sometimes Strangely group'd, yet who 
 will this oppose Sir, 
 That if we are not match' d ourselves, we well can 
 match our foes, Sir; 
 
 Then merry be the lads &c. 
 
 We've Bankers, lawyers, doctors, grocers, shoemakers 
 and bakers. Sir, 
 We've taylors, hosiers, glovers, smiths and likewise 
 undertakers. Sir, 
 And many more whose praise aloud shall Britons chear- 
 ful Sing, Sir, 
 Who stand protectors of their wives, their children 
 and their King, Sir ; 
 
 Then merry be the lads &c. 
 
 The Lawyer folks should lead the van, for not to speak 
 too large. Sir, 
 All know, who've seen the lawyers bill, they're not 
 affraid to charge, Sir, 
 I'm sure in each engagement they wou'd ever foremost 
 be. Sir, 
 And twenty actions in a day would suit them to a 
 T , Sir; 
 
 Then merry be the lads Sec. 
 
 The Doctors they will prime them well, with powder, 
 ball and pill, Sir, 
 
 And
 
 so 
 
 And well they know that eight in ten, they're alvvayf 
 sure to kill. Sir, 
 Two mortars they will keep well charged, with such 
 things as they know best. 
 Will draft them off for t'other world and send them 
 quietly to rest ; 
 
 Then merry be the lads &c. 
 
 We've bakers who would ring a peal, till foes cry'd fire 
 and faggots. Sir, 
 And cheesemongers those mighty men_, would make 
 them skip like maggots, Sir,. 
 Our taylors would their Jackets trim ; our barbers 
 bring their poles out. 
 Our shoemakers would peg and strap, and knock 
 their very soles out ; 
 
 Then merry be the lads &c. 
 
 Then when we drink, be this our toast, may England 
 long be free. Sir, 
 And ever in the glorious cause, her sons united be. 
 Sir, 
 May he who wou'd break the social band, that links us 
 to each other. Sir, 
 Be banish'd from Old Englands shore, and forc'd to 
 seek another. Sir ; 
 
 And merry be the lads &c. 
 
 CAPTAIN WATTLE and Miss ROE. (Dibdin.) 
 
 8UNG BY Mr. Pa vis, theatres, RICHMOND & WHITBY. 
 
 Di 
 
 _'ID you ever hear of Captain Wattle? 
 
 He was all for love, and a little for the bottle ; 
 We know not tho' pains we have ta'en to enquire. 
 
 If gunpowder he invented, or the Thames set on fire ; 
 If to him was the centre of gravity known. 
 
 The longitude, or the philosopher's stone; 
 Or whether he studied from Bacon or Boyle, 
 
 Copernicus, Locke, Katerfelto, or Hoyle; 
 
 But
 
 31 
 
 But this we have learn'd, with great labour and pain. 
 That he lov'd Miss Roe, and she lov'd him again. 
 
 Then sweet Miss Roe, none ever look'd fiercer. 
 
 She had but one eye, but that was a piercer ; 
 We know not for certainty her education. 
 
 If she wrote, mended stockings, or settled the nation ; 
 At cards if she lik'd whist, and swabbers or voles. 
 
 Or at dinner lov'd pig or a steak on the coals. 
 Whether most of the Sappho she was or Thalestris, 
 
 Or if dancing was taught her by Hopkins or Vestris ; 
 But for your satisfaction thiis good news we obtain. 
 
 That she lov'd Captain Wattle and he lov'd her 
 again. "'-'' 
 
 When wedded he became lord and master depend on't; 
 He had but one leg, but he'd a foot at the end on't; 
 Which of government. when she would fain hold the 
 bridle. 
 He took special caution should never be idle. 
 So like jnosti marry'd folks, 'twas my plague, and my 
 chicken. 
 And sometimes a kissing and sometimes a kicking. 
 Then for comfort a cordial she'd now and then try. 
 
 Alternately bunging or piping her eye, 
 And these facts of this couple the history contain, 
 . For when he kick'd Miss Roe she kick'd him agaia. 
 
 otfr,; \-:A COMIC POETIC BAG^ TELLE 
 
 CALLED 
 
 CUNNING ISAAC'S ESCAPE, 
 ^ ' FROM THE DUENNA. ( O'Keeffe. ) 
 
 AS RECITED AND SWJG BY Mr. WrICHT, THEATRE^, 
 WHITBY, RIPOK, &C. 
 
 B, 
 
 BEFORE you behold debpnair free and gay, 
 A Beau just from Spain from his wife run away, 
 
 N
 
 3 
 
 ^0 sYim Macaroni the ladies to tcaze, ^ 
 
 *But Isaac, a cunninjr smart and sharp Portgueze ; 
 
 By art and age trick'd my fortune for life, 
 
 "Was a termagent scold, in tlie shape of a wife, 
 
 111 fashion'd, 111 natured, 111 featured and old. 
 
 With neither health, wit, understanding or gold. 
 
 !FfOm my bargain I therefore with haste made escape. 
 
 And thro' Seville most manfully cried out a rape-, 
 
 At my heels came my harridan roaring aloud. 
 
 On each side beset by the gigling croud : 
 
 To the sea side she came for her dear husband calling. 
 
 With toug-h lungs of leather like Cerberus bawling; 
 
 She held by my cloak, which I shrewdly perceiving. 
 
 And assured were she drown'd 'twould not cause any 
 
 grieving. 
 So away slipt my garment, the waves quickly caught 
 
 her. 
 Like a porpus I left her to flounce in the water. 
 Thence how she escaped, whether now out or now in. 
 Among friends her dear Isaac regards not a pin ; 
 On Shipboard I got, we quick hoisted all sail. 
 While old Margaret perhaps might be food for a whale ; 
 To the tit bit he's welcome, for me there's no question. 
 And I heartily wish him a happy degestion ; 
 Most kind were the breezes which brought to this 
 
 shore. 
 Cunning Isaac, who ne'er thinks of leaving it more; 
 Tho' my troubles since landing surpass all belief. 
 Yet I've prov'd altogether a smart little thief; 
 Thro' St. Pauls windy church yard 'midst uproar and 
 
 pother. 
 Cries a voice ** Penknives, vatches> shoe strings" 'twas 
 
 my brother : 
 With surprize somewhat struck, with vexation much 
 
 more. 
 For we ne'er own relations who chance to be poor ; 
 I wink'd slyly to him, he follow'd the beck. 
 And was close at my heels, with his shop round his 
 
 neck; 
 H told me with tears of many sad failures. 
 
 He
 
 33 
 
 He had mt with on shipboard by*rade with the sail- 
 ors, 
 To whom he sold vaiches at prices quite low, 
 Most excellent work with no fault but 'iwoni go ; 
 His tricks once detected, to a mtimmy they beat him. 
 Nay the Tars once like Savages threaten'd to eat him ; 
 In a hogshead of vinegar steep the old smouch, 
 For with mustard they swore he'd make excellent 
 
 souse. 
 Thus basted and pickled, to London he came, 
 With the loss of his trinkets, half blind and half lame; 
 But this tale of my brother has led me astray, 
 I'll return to what further I met in my way ; 
 In a street as I pass'd the rabble came running. 
 Where a pick-pocket newly had practis'd his cunning ; 
 I waddled away lest their rage I should meet. 
 And with squeezes and bumps made my way through 
 
 the street ; 
 O'er a wheelbarrow handle in my terror I stumbled. 
 And into the channel head forwards I tumbled : 
 The thief made his escape, stop thief still was the roar. 
 When that I was the thief a fat fish woman swore ; 
 As the circle around me grew bigger and bigger, 
 'Tis amazing what jests they bestow'd on my figure : 
 A Vintner ha'f bursting declared 'twou'd be fun. 
 To place me like Bacchus, astride of a tun. 
 And if I were hung at his door as a sign, 
 He should get rnore by me than he could by his wine ; 
 Then a whole group of 'Prentices (impudent cubs,) 
 Vow'd like nothing I look'd, but a foul knave of clubs; 
 Still that 1 was the thief they all ventured to swear. 
 And were going to take me before the Lord Mayor: 
 By good luck at last I wip'd ofFthe aspersion, 
 But the dirt still stuck close, for the rabbles diversion. 
 So vow'd thro' the streets no longer I'd roam. 
 And a kind Hackney-Coach convey'd me safe home; 
 Then I dress'd me in ha^te my respects to pay here. 
 For you know in that pickfe I cou'd not appear ; 
 That my person is handsome you'll make no denial, 
 Tho' my impudent wife said 'twas like a base viol, 
 
 c My
 
 S4 
 
 My round belly was swell'd with a dropsy she said. 
 And my countenance look'dlikea sick Baboon's head ; 
 There's a wife for a gentleman, and what is still worse. 
 To make upfor't she brought not a sous in her purse , 
 Had she not wanted coin, lack of charms had ne'er 
 
 teaz'd me, 
 Tho her looks might have frighted, her gold would 
 
 have pleased me : 
 Her features tho' furrow'd, like Hebe's had shone. 
 And her dead eyes prov'd sparklers as bright as my 
 
 own ; 
 But lest her description should keep you too long, 
 I'll give what remains, with your leave, in a song. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune " Ballance a Straw." 
 
 To describe poor old Marg'ret how easy the task, 
 .When her likeness you see in a frightful old mask. 
 
 But lest you should think me a whimsical man, 
 I'll paint you her features as well as I can ; 
 
 Thank fortune she's gone, and again I am free, 
 To coquet and make love, if the ladies like me. 
 Thank fortune &c. 
 
 Her visage was swarthy a dull dingy tint. 
 
 And her small ferret eyes, did most lovingly squint. 
 
 And they bore ('stead of matching) a different hue. 
 For one peeper was black and the other was blue ; 
 Thank fortune &c. 
 
 All freckled her neck, like a stale turkey egg^ 
 
 And six inches too short was her pretty right leg. 
 Then her mouth was so damag'd, with comfits and 
 
 plumbs. 
 Like bad tenants, her teeth ran away from her gums; 
 Thank fortune &c. 
 
 purvey me tken, fair ones, how smart I appear. 
 Bid away for the lot, I'm my own Auctioneer, 
 
 .. - Little
 
 35 
 
 Little Isaac just landed on England's fair coast, 
 A going a going to her that bids most ; 
 
 Bid away then with spirit, you quickly shall see, 
 How grateful I'll prove if the ladies like me: 
 Bid away then with spirit &c. 
 
 G. 
 
 JOHN BULL AND BUONAPARTE. 
 
 A New Comic Song. (^Stuart.) 
 
 'OOD People all I pray give ear, while I provoke 
 your mirth, Sir, 
 About Rawhead and bloody bones, a Corsican by 
 birth, Sir, 
 Who scolded till old Women roar'd, and bitterly did 
 groan, Sir, 
 And all the Children cried so loud, 'twould melt a 
 heart of Stone, Sir ; 
 
 Bow, Wow, Wow, &c. 
 
 Says blustering Buoni's Citizens, Old England is an 
 Isle, Sir, . r 
 
 Whose wealth suspasseth all the world, so take and 
 share its spoil. Sir, ^ 
 
 Cries John " it is an Isle indeed, but not so easy taken," 
 For should you venture for our Beef, take care of 
 your own Bacon ; 
 
 Bow, Wow, &c. 
 
 These barbarians of the North, these Gormandizing 
 sinners. 
 Who splutter Loyaltv so pat, at Corporation dinner^ 
 Whose only Arms are Knives and Forks, cries John 
 *' that I deny, Sir," 
 We handle Broad-sword's just as well, all Egypt 
 proves you lie, Sir i 
 
 Bow, Wow, &c. 
 
 Some
 
 3^^ 
 
 Some foggy night we'll take a trip--~says John this here 
 the case is, 
 'Twill be a foggy night to you, if here you show 
 your faces. 
 For Britain's Sun disdains to shine, on Villainous en- 
 deavour. 
 And should you trust your carcase here, good night 
 to it for ever ; 
 
 Bow Wow, &e. 
 
 rhe Devil in a Fog some night, shall ferry us all over- 
 Why yes, says John, "you know its only twenty miles 
 from Dover," 
 ^Your wives and daughters squall in Chorus, save us 
 all from Plunder, 
 But first, says John, a rougher Chorus comes in Brit- 
 ish Thunder. 
 
 Bow Wow, &c. 
 
 ^hose lazy sons of Freedom, who eat and drink and 
 quaff. Sir, 
 And kill themselves they know not why, unless to 
 make us laugh, Sir, 
 yVttack'em by their fire sides, says John '* why don't 
 you know. Sir," 
 When Britons Fire side by side, 'tis fatal to the 
 foe. Sir;" 
 
 Bow Wow, &c. 
 '^. 
 
 And pray, says John, with all Politeness, 'dontyou 
 think I'mright, Sir, 
 Your boasted French Invasion, is nothing buta bite, 
 
 ifotc Ve^ your Lanthorn Jaws shall bite, at English 
 Beef you must. Sir, 
 ;px|>ect:a few bold British boys, to make you bite 
 the dust, Sir J 
 
 . ' Bow Wow, &c. 
 
 -f . ;; Then
 
 37 
 
 Then boast no more but come at once, and fix an 
 early day, Sir, 
 We've some few thousand Hearts fef Oak, all eager 
 for the fray, Sir, . ./ \. 
 
 Who never yet were known to tutn, their backs on 
 friends or foes. Sir, - 
 But ever faithful to their Ktr, !his Enemies oppose. 
 Sir; ^ 
 
 ^ Bow Wow, &c. 
 
 LITTLE JOE, 
 THE CHIMNET S WEEP. ( OuUon .) 
 
 SUNG BY Mr. BENNEtT, THEATRE, KEWDAL," 
 
 A HEY call me Little Joe, Sir, 
 
 A Chimney sweep am I, 
 And tho I'm reckon'd low, Sir, 
 
 I'm always mounting high ; 
 My hands do clearly shew, Sir, 
 
 That dirty work's my trade. 
 But how much ca^h yon know, Sir,' 
 
 Is thus in London made ; 
 By those who deal in smoke. 
 
 As I do every day. 
 Their sweeping never choak. 
 
 They scrape and brush away; 
 'Twixt me and Gentle-folk, Sir, 
 
 The difference to be seen. 
 Is, they without a Joke, Sir, 
 
 Do dirty work more clean. 
 
 Some cry how black my face hy 
 
 But Joe cares not a rush, 
 I'm fairer than some graces, 
 
 'Cause never seen to blush; 
 
 My
 
 38 
 My dirt in the right place is. 
 
 More clean than others still, 
 A h\ack face ne'er disgraces, 
 A black heart always will; 
 
 Fox those who deal in smoke, &c. 
 
 My littleness conduces. 
 
 Your chambers cfea.7 to keep, 
 You seldom think what use is. 
 
 Poor Joe the chimney sweep ; 
 Tho humble in my fare. Sir, 
 
 Yet I'm content d'ye see. 
 My mind is free from care. Sir, 
 
 And that's enough for me ; 
 
 For those who deal in smoke, &c. 
 
 Pray is it not uncivil. 
 
 For Artists as you know. 
 That when they draw a devil. 
 
 They make him like Poor Joe; 
 While others prone to evil. 
 
 As imps would better strike. 
 For as I never live 111, 
 
 I can't be devil like ; 
 
 'Tis they who deal in smoke, 8cci 
 
 FOUR AND TWENTY 
 
 LORD MAYOR'S SHOWS. 
 SUNG BY Mr. Dunning, theatre, kendal, 
 
 F< 
 
 OUR and twenty Lord Mayor's Shows all of a row. 
 Four and twenty Lord Mayor's Shows all of a row, 
 
 There was the man in armour, the twelve companies, 
 sword bearer and common hunt, all in a bustle, with 
 flags, banners, gowns, chains. and periwigs, pretty girls 
 
 perch'd
 
 39 
 
 perch'd in the windows and c^ress'd so proud, to talt: 
 
 so loud, above the croud, do'vvn below. 
 
 It was to see my I'-ord Mayor's Show, 
 Therefore they wou'd be merry. 
 
 Four and twenty Aldermen all in a row. 
 Four and twe^/-y Aldermen all in a row. 
 There was praw^Air. Alderman what time do you go to. 
 the ceremony > nave you got ever another ticket for the 
 ball, there'll be me and Mrs. Marrowfat, Miss Marrow- 
 fat and M?"Ster Marrowfat, and my daughter's to dance 
 a,(ninue?- with the Man iry^rmour, &c. 
 \ . , .....-- 
 
 Four and twenty Serjeants all in a row,' 
 ,' Four and twenty Serjeants all in a row. 
 
 Make way there that gentleman in the black gown 
 belongs to the law, ** so do I Sir ; we lawyers are men 
 of consequence," very true, but the devil will have you 
 at last, pray Mr. Alderman &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Pickpockets all of a row. 
 Four and twenty Pickpockets all of a row. 
 
 There they were at it with Fobs, watches and 
 pocket books, stop that man he looks like a rogue,^ 
 "take care of your pocket's" that Gentleman in the 
 black gown &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Tailors all in a row. 
 Four and twenty Tailors all in a row. 
 And there was a stitch in time saves nine, nine 
 tailors make a man, nine men may undo a tailor, and 
 tailors are obliged to look very hard a^ cross stitch, back 
 stitch, button-holes, fobs, watches and pocket-books, 
 &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Ladies all on a row. 
 Four and twenty Ladies all on a row. 
 
 There
 
 There was pray Ma'am what colour'd wig do you 
 wear at the show? *' thzt depends on the weather 
 ma'am, as my husband's in fhe military perhaps I shall 
 wear alight bob, vfhzt do you think of a scratch? 
 rather be excused there ma'a-m I thank you, in that 
 way you're at honne to a hair, be.-jides you know ma'am 
 a stitch in time saves nine, &c. \ 
 
 Four and twenty Daggerwoods\i^l of a row. 
 Four and twenty Daggerwoods all c-)f a row. 
 There was Mrs. Dorinda Daggerwooc?> Master A- 
 pollo Daggerwood, and all the little Da^erwood^!. 
 headed by Sylvester Dion^ius Apollo Daggerwo'^d, 
 of the Dunstable company, whose benefit is fi.xer' for 
 the nth. of June, being by particular desire ofse ?ral r 
 
 Eersons of distinction, then the unbounded liberahV/ of 
 is friends will never be forgotten, while memory ho Ids ' 
 a seat in this delighted brain, brilliant boxes, powe ' 
 full pit, -thundering gallery, and then for applause\ 
 every thihg went off swimmingly with pray ma'arnVw 
 what colour'd wig do you wear at the show? ^* Lord ] 
 Ma'am that depends on the weather, as my husband's | 
 in the Military perhaps I shall wear a light bob ; what 1 
 do you think of a scratch? rather be excused there \ 
 Ma'am I thank you, in that way you're at home to a ' 
 hair, besides you know Ma'am a stitch in time saves 
 nine nine tailors make a man, nine men may undo'' 
 a tailor, and tailors are obliged to look very hard at; 
 cross-stitch, back-stitch, button-holes, fobs, watches 
 and pocket-books, stop that man he looks like a rogue, 
 take care of your pockets, that there Gemmen in the 
 black gown belongs to the law So I do Sir we Law- 
 yers are men of consequence very true but the devil 
 will have you at last ; pray Mr. Alderman what time 
 do you go to the ceremony? have you got ever another 
 ticket for the ball? there'l heme and my dear Mrs. 
 Marrowfat, Miss Marrowfat and Master Marrowfat, 
 and do you know my daughter's to dance a Minuet 
 with the Man in Armour, the twelve Companies, sword 
 bearer, and Common Hunt, all in a bustle, with flags 
 
 banners
 
 41 
 
 banners gowns chains f^d periwigs, pretty girls 
 perch'd in the windows, '"id dress'd so proud to talk 
 so loud, above the croud, -lown below, 
 
 Because it wasmy Lord Mayor's Show, 
 
 Therefore let* ail be merry. 
 
 yS. CO^IC SATIRIC BAGATELLE 
 
 CALLED 
 
 J O E S N I P, 
 
 {The Tailor's) Soliloquy. {^Harrison.') 
 
 /.S RECITED BY Mr. MeADOWS, THEATRE, KENDAL. 
 
 X O be, or not to be" a Tailor that is the ques- 
 tion, shall I, who feel myself a man ; yes every inch a 
 man, have but one ninth of my just claim allowed. For- 
 bid it heaven I am a man and a man of consequence too, 
 for no man is a man without me, even Kings would be 
 Sans Culottes, if I turned traitor, and refused to make 
 them breeches; and who would reverence their bench 
 of Judges, and their bench of Bishops, if I did not ma- 
 nufacture furred gowns and lawn sleeves. Yes law, 
 divinity and even physic too, all stand indebted to me 
 for their importance, I am therefore not only a man but 
 a man of importance, wiiat would our Sailors do, those 
 brave fellows to whom we chiefly owe the safety of our 
 country itself, without jackets and trowsers? Why 
 they would be as bare bottomed as so many Mounseers 
 the Soldiers too, thev would cut a rery pretty figure to 
 be sure without me, why zounds, its enough to make 
 a man swear, but as I am a man, dam' me what is it 
 makes the Soldier in the eyes of the women look so 
 handsome, but the scarlet cloth, the blue and buff in 
 which I dress them, the gold lace, and the worsted 
 lace, the gold epaulets, and the worsted epaulets, with 
 
 which
 
 which I trim the most v.lignt Dojrs in the world, a 
 tailor then is not only a wztn but a man of valour, since 
 he trims them ail if a n.in has no credit with hi 
 Tailor he has none elsewh.re, nobody will speak to 
 Genius cloathed with Rags in the street, but let me 
 have the dressing of the vilest iscal in the universe 
 and see if he is not welcomed likt a prince in every 
 fashionable circle ; is it not dress maki>s the gentleman ? 
 Is it not me that regulates the fashions? I therefore 
 must be a gentleman as well as a man o^ fashion, can 
 any man who is not well clothed by me, death the best 
 story in the world so as to be reckoned wit, in a polite 
 company, and will not the most thread bare joke (even 
 irom Joe Miller) utter'd by one whom I have thus 
 
 ?ualified convulse the very same circle with laughter, 
 am therelore the maker of wit, and of course must 
 be a man of wit, shall I then, who can do all these great 
 things, be cast off and despised like an old garment the 
 instant I quit my shop-board? shall I who am not only 
 a man but a man of consequence^ not only a man of 
 consequence but a man of importance, not only a man 
 of importance but a man of valour, not only a man of 
 valour but a gentleman, not only a gentleman but a 
 man of wit, be bawled after by every shabby ragged 
 rascal, whenever I fetch a walk with my dear Mrs. * 
 Snip, my daughter Dolly, or some favourite Girl 
 look there he goes there goes Snip the Tailor, the 
 ninth part of a man, and when I mount my nag to take 
 the dust in Hyde-Park like my customers, to see every | 
 one turn finger post and hear them cry ** Twig the 
 Tailor riding to Brentford," while a wag slily contrives 
 to make a slip of paper resembling a measure dangle 
 from my pocket, shall I who know so well how to live, 
 and liow to live well too, be thus made weary of my 
 life, nay even of my livelihood, by a set of ragamuffins, 
 poets and philosophers prate that a bare bodkin will 
 quiete us a bare breach I was going to say, it might quiet 
 lis, but would it quiete the Devil? no, he I am told 
 will not be cheated out of his own like a poor Tailor 
 by his bad customers, and I should chuse since I am 
 
 obliged
 
 43 
 
 obliged to give long credit to bave as long; allowed nae 
 as possible, they may talk of jhuffling of life, but I had 
 rather shuffle through life, conscience they say makes 
 cowards of us all, but a Tailor has no conscience ergo 
 a Tailor is no coward, shall I then who am a man of 
 so many functions, submit to be thug treated, without 
 reply no if they could cut me as small as pickled cab- 
 bage roast me like a goose, slice me like my favourite 
 cucumber, orend me to hell itself I will speak while 
 I am a man, the world shall hear of my ill usage, and 
 if I do not m.eet with more respect every mother's son 
 shall be rec^uced to their primitive state, or I will make 
 them all 'jjay swingingly for every article they get from 
 me, and, ;hus in my turn, laugh in my sleeve. Dam' me 
 who's afraid {going returns.) 
 
 ** Yes faith I am, yet hope 'tis without cause, 
 ,' My fear is not receiving your applause." 
 
 BILLY WHIPSTITCH; 
 THE TAILOR'S RAMBLE. 
 
 AS HECITED BY Mr. MeADOWS, THEATRE, RICHMOND. 
 
 A 
 
 London Tailor as 'tis said, 
 By buckram, canvas, tape and thread. 
 Sleeve-linings, pockets, silk and twist. 
 And all the long expensive list. 
 With which tbeir uncouth bills abound, 
 Tho' rarely in the garmt'ftts found ; 
 By these and other arts in trSde, 
 Had soon a pretty fortune made. 
 And did what few had ever done. 
 Left thirty thousand to his son ; 
 
 The son a gay young swaggering blade, 
 Abhorr'd the very name of trade, 
 And lest reflection should be thrown, '\ 
 On him, resolved to leave the town, > 
 And travel v/here he was not known. J 
 
 la
 
 In splendid coach an^ Liveries gay, 
 To Oxford fi'rst he took" his way ; 
 There Belles and Beaux his. taste admire. 
 His equipage and rich attii'e'; 
 But nothing was so much ador'd 
 As his fine silver-hilted sword j 
 Tho' very small, 'twas vastly nc3t; 
 The sight was deem'd a perfect \tczt. 
 Beau Banter begg'd to have a ioolc, 
 But when the sword in hand heico'*:. 
 He swore by Gad, it was an odd thing^ 
 And look'd just like a tailor's bodkin. 
 His pride was hurt by this expression. 
 Thinking they knew his dad's profession ;. 
 Sheathing his sword he sneak'd away. 
 And drove for Glo'ster that same day. 
 There soon he found fresh cause for grief. 
 For, dining on some fine roast beef. 
 One ask'd " pray which did he prefer. 
 Some cabbage or a cucumber." 
 The purse-proud coxcomb took the hint^ 
 Thought It severe reflection meant ; 
 His stomach turn'd he could not eat. 
 So made an ungenteel retreat: 
 Next day left Glo'ster in great wrath. 
 And bid his coachman drive to Bath, 
 There he suspected fresh abuse, 
 Because the dinner was roast-goose ; 
 And that he might no more be jeer'd. 
 Next day to Exeter he steer'd : 
 Therewith some bucks he drank about. 
 Until he fear'd they'd Found him out ; 
 His glass not fill'd, as was the rule. 
 They said 'twas not a thimble full : 
 The name o{ thimble was enough. 
 He paid his reck'ning and went off. 
 He then to Plymouth took a trip, > 
 And put up at the royal ship, I- 
 
 "Which then was kept by Caleb Snip. J > 
 The host by name was often call'd. 
 
 At^
 
 A5 
 
 At which his guest was so. much gall'd. 
 That soon to Cambridge he remov'd ; 
 There too he unsuccessful prov'd : 
 For tho' he fiU'd his glass or cup. 
 He did not always drink it up. 
 'The Cantabs mark'd how he behav'd. 
 And said a remnant should be sav'd. 
 The name of remnant gall'd him so. 
 That he resolv'd for Tork to go : 
 There fiU'd his bumper to the top. 
 And always fairly drank it up : 
 Well done, (says Jack, a buck of York,) 
 You go thro' stitch. Sir, with your work. 
 The name of stitch was such reproach. 
 He rang the bell and call'd his coach. 
 But, ere he went, inquiries made. 
 By what means they found out his trade : 
 You put the cap on, and it fits, 
 Reply'd one of the Yorkshire wits. 
 Our words, in common acceptation. 
 Could not find out your occupation/ 
 *Twas you yourself gave US' the clue. 
 To find out both your trade and you. 
 Vain coxcombs and fantastic beaux. 
 In every place themselves expose ; 
 They travel far at vast expence. 
 To show their wealth and want of sense : 
 But take this for a standing rule. 
 There's no disguise can screen a fool. 
 
 B 
 
 BUY MY MATCHES; 
 
 A Comic Song. 
 
 IN CHARACTER OF AN OLD MATCH WOMAN. 
 
 UY my matches ye maids, I have matches for all, 
 I've a match for the little, the lusty, and tall, 
 
 AH
 
 46 
 
 All my matches are pointed, my brimstone is good. 
 And I know very well, how to splinter my wood ; 
 Buy my matches ye maids, I have matches for all, 
 I've a match for the little, the lusty, and tall. 
 
 Dame fortune who matches, the young and the old. 
 Gives you brimstone enough, when you're match'd 
 to a scold. 
 If your matches are made, as I fancy they be. 
 
 You have met with your match before you met me ; 
 Buy my matches &c. 
 
 There's the Doctor so nice, and the Lawyer so wise. 
 They're a match for you all, none can match them 
 for lies. 
 Beware of them both, be they ever so civil. 
 
 For a Lawyer you know, is a match for the devil ; 
 Buy my matches &c. 
 
 There's Duncan the brave, was a match for the Dutch, 
 Heaven send that again, he could give them a touch. 
 
 And teach them in future, that Englishmen will. 
 Prove a match for them all, and defy all their skill ; 
 Buy my matches &c. 
 
 Heaven bless our good King, and bold Clarence his son. 
 And each true British tar, that's a match for the Don, 
 
 May they conquer and live is the prayer from my birth. 
 That old England may match all the nations on earthy 
 Buy my matches &c. 
 
 THE COUNTRY CLUB. (Dihdin.) 
 SUNG BY Mr. Butler, theatre, harrogate. 
 
 N. 
 
 OW we're all here met together. 
 In spite of wind and weather. 
 To moisten well our clay: 
 
 Before
 
 47 
 
 Before we think of jogging, 
 Let's take a cheerful noggin 
 
 Where's the waiter? ring away, 
 Where's the glees and the catches, iUoia, 
 
 The tobacco, pipes and matches. 
 And plenty of brown stout? 
 
 Yet the glasses, e'er we start'em. 
 Let's proceed secundum artem, 
 
 Let the clerk all the names , read out 
 
 Gentlemen of the Ouizical Society, please to answer 
 to your names Farmer Scroggins ! '* why I be here" 
 Doctor Horseleech ! " here" Parson Paunch! 
 *' here" Taylor Tit! *'why I be here up in-the 
 corner, don't you see me" ? Gentlemen are you all 
 assembled ?' All all all all". ' ' 
 
 So here's to you Mr. Wiggins, 
 Here's to you Master Figgins,' 
 So put the beer about. 
 
 Come tell us what the news is. 
 Who wins and who looses. 
 
 Of the times what do people say ? 
 Hard, hard, the landlord racks us. 
 
 Then we've such a load of taxes. 
 Indeed] well, and how goes hay? 
 
 Why now there's Master Wiseman, 
 He told the exciseman. 
 
 That the cause of this pother and rout- 
 Order, order and sobriety ! 
 
 The rules of this society, 
 
 het the secretary read'em out : 
 
 Every member of this society that spills his liquor in 
 his neighbour's pocket, shall forfeit two-pence. Every 
 member of this society that singes his neighbour's wig 
 with his pipe, shall forfeit two-pence. Every member 
 of this society that refuses to laugh at a good Joke shall 
 forfeit two-pence. Every member of this society who 
 reproaches his neighbour with coming to distress by 
 " ' ' ' unavoidable 

 
 48 
 
 unavoidable misfortunes, shall forfeit two-pence. Mr* 
 President I move that this forfeit be a shilling, and I 
 second the motion. Are you all agreed ? I am unani- 
 mouslyA noble resolution ! D'ye think so? 
 
 Why then here's to you, Mr. Higgins, 
 Here's to you, Mr. Wiggins, 
 So put the beer about. 
 
 And now the potent liquor. 
 
 Not even spares the vicar, 
 But in all their noddles mounts, 
 
 While among this set ol queerers, 
 AH talkers and no hearers. 
 
 Each his favourite tale recounts. 
 The soldier izYks of battle. 
 
 The ^rdfxzVr sells his cattle. 
 Conversation to provoke ; 
 
 'Till the juice of the barrel, 
 Begets some curious quarrel. 
 
 While the company's lost in smoke. 
 
 Upon my soul neighbour, I had no hand in tbe death 
 f your wife, it was only in the way of business nay, 
 but Doctor, it was siich a curst unneighbourly thing 
 of you not that the woman was any sitch great things, 
 only toputabody to^i^c/zan expence. ** Why you don't 
 tell me so !" killed fifteen with your own hand ! fifteen 
 by my laurels ! D'ye hear that, Butcher? hear it, yes ; 
 but I'll lay an what he dares, he has not killed so many 
 as I have by hundreds, -Powder my whiskers, I'll 
 come, come, Gentlemen, says the bellows-maker, no 
 breezes ! Let me exhort you to temperance says the 
 parson. Amen, says the clerk. Thats right says the 
 undertaker, let us bury all animosity ! Now thats what 
 I like, said the fidler, I like to see harmony restored 
 D'ye tho' ? you like to see harmony restored, 
 
 Why then, here's to you, Mr. fliggins. 
 Here's to you, Mr. Wiggins, 
 So put the beer about. 
 
 WHO'S
 
 WHO'S TO BLAME: 
 
 OR, 
 
 NO FOOL LIKE AN OLD ONE : 
 
 A F A R C E> 
 
 IM 
 
 T fF O ACTS, 
 
 Br 
 
 rnOMAS MEdDOPFS.
 
 {CHARACTERS.) 
 
 Commodore Weatheroage. - - 
 Ormsby. ------ 
 
 Belford. ------ 
 
 ROBIK. ------- 
 
 Swab, ^ ----- - 
 
 Lady Sighnome, - - - 
 
 Frippery, - - - - - 
 
 CoKSZUA SlHNONI. - - - 
 
 ScEKE, LONDON. 
 
 First Written ia September, 17S5; ai\d taken from HitchcocVs 
 Comedy, called The Coquet, or, Mistakes of the 
 KsART. Revised and altered, January iSoo, by 
 
 T. MxADOiri;
 
 SCENE I. A STREET, 
 
 - f 
 Enter ORMSBY and BELFORD. R. H. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 OO then it seems, Belford, your Uncle has very civilly 
 dismiss'd you his house. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 Not so very civilly, I assure you. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Don't you think you deserved it? you know the ol 
 Commodore has spent the greater part of his life, in 
 ploughing the Tempestuous Ocean, and tho' possessed 
 of an excellent heart, has not the least idea of those 
 refined sentiments, inspired by a liberal Education, 
 you were certain that your whole dependance was upon 
 him, yet refused flattering those harmless foibles which 
 peculiarly mark his character. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 You mistake irie, Ormsby, I ever did, but when he 
 commenced my rival, my happiness was too much con- 
 cerned to trifle any longer. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 And has he declared his passion? 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 No, but as a preparatory step, he has given Lady 
 Sighnone (who is just returned to town with my dear 
 Cornelia,) to understand that for the future she must 
 not encourage my pretensions, as I have nothing ta 
 expect from nim. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 So your hopes ai all over in that quwter ? 
 
 wifoip'jj
 
 52 
 BEL FORD. 
 
 Entirely ! I called yesterday to welcome my sweet 
 ^irl to London, and was refused admittance, 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Indeed ! 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 True, and I am now reduced to such distress that 
 unless you can assist me with your advice and 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Here's my hand, depend upon every exertion in my 
 power to serve you. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 Words are too poor to thank you, but how shall we 
 act ? what can I do ? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Faith I don't know, I believe as matters are, we had 
 best work by stratageijn ; luckily I stand high in the 
 estimation of your Uncle, as well as Lady Sighnone. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 You'll find him inexorable, and her 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Not proof against flattery egad I have it, suppose I 
 attack Lady Sighnone myself, and persuade her that I 
 am dying for love of her. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 No, no, that's impossible; 'twould be too ridiculous. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Ha! ha! ha! I can't help laughing at your igno- 
 rance of the sex ; I'll lay my life there's nothing easier, 
 attack Widows by storm and they can't resist you ; 
 
 besidits
 
 55 
 
 besides as she was in such a violent hurry to get a 
 second husband it is but reasonable to suppose her still 
 more impatient for a third. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 Well success attesd you, but what do you propose 
 by this romantic scheme. 
 
 ORMSBY, 
 
 To serve you which I hope to do effectually before 
 night, for the heart which does not participate in the 
 4listress of a friend is not worthy of existence. 
 
 Exit L. H, 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Middle Chamber. 
 
 COMMODORE WEATHERGAGE discovered 
 n a Couch. SWAB (art old Seaman} ^s his Servant 
 waiting. L. H. 
 
 0MM0P0RE. 
 
 Swab. 
 
 SWAB. 
 
 Here, your honour. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 What sort of weather abroad P 
 
 SWAB. 
 
 A little hazy, your honour, the wind S. S. EJ 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 D'ye think you cou'd take me under convoy, as fit 
 iis Lady Sighnone's? I've been overhauling the log 
 book of my inclinations, and fin,d the compass of my 
 Keart points to that port. 
 
 SWAfl
 
 SWAB. 
 
 Never fear splinter my grapplers, but I'll tow your 
 honour as safe as ever a Monsieur was tow'd' into a 
 British port. > j 
 
 COMMODORE, 
 
 Bravo, my heart of Oak, on with your best rigging 
 d'ye see, directly ; and then come and help me to rig; 
 myself out. . ; 
 
 ' Enter ORM SBY. L. H. 
 
 Ha \ Ormsby, what chear boy? how goes it? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Very well I thank you, Commodore, and am glad t* 
 fsee you in such spirits. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Spirits, did you ever know a British Sailor's fail him f 
 the gout to be sure has laid an embargo on my lower 
 ^vorks, but my heart is as sound as a biscuit ; give me 
 your hand, (to Ormsby) here. Swab, help to heave md 
 up; (rises) so, so, now turn out and prepare to 
 set sail, d'ye see. ' 
 
 SWAB. 
 
 If Bet Mainsail my messmate's widow hail me this 
 tide, what answer shall I give her ? 
 
 i .' 
 
 COMMODORE, 
 
 Stow her well with right Nantz, give her ten gui- 
 ineas to buy new rigging, and tell her, if she'll hoist 
 the sign of Admiral Duncan, or Nelson, on Ports- 
 unouth Common, I'll take care to keep the land Sharks 
 astern of her. 
 
 SWAB. 
 
 Bless your honour's glory, she shall have as much of 
 the good creature as she'll swig j and snatch my 
 
 r:. ^ . " :r : r -^ ^ bowlings^
 
 S5 
 
 bowlings, if I don't tip her half a piece out of my own 
 Locker, for old acquaintance sake, 
 
 Exit L. H, 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Your goodness I hope, Commodere, will excuse this 
 intrusion, but presuming on the regard you always 
 profess'd for m ; I am now come to intercede ia behalf 
 ef your Nephew. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Avast Ormsby, avast, tack about, my Nephew," 
 d'ye see, is a lazy land lubber ; if he'd have kept in my 
 wake I'd have made a man of him; and taught him to 
 hand, reef and steer, with e'er a Seaman in the Navy. 
 
 ORMSBV {smiling.) 
 
 These are accomplishments. Commodore, not suit* 
 able to every man's taste and genius, 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Then their taste is not worth a rope's *nd ; t 
 myself, tho* a younger brother, made my own fortune, 
 while his father was squandering away his ; I was twico 
 round the globe before I was forty: in every birth 
 from Cabin-boy to Commodore, and how having 
 sufficient to lie by; lam resolved to enjoy it, ana 
 ride in a smooth harbour all the rest of my days. 
 
 OBMSBY. 
 
 But, Commodore, tho' you were so fond of the Ocean 
 and had such success, your Nephew may not have the 
 flflme inclination, and you should make some allowance. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Damn me but I'll keep him on short allowance, if he 
 has a mind to regain the wind of my affection, he must 
 sheer off from the little frigate, he has so long kept in 
 ehace of, and let me fit him out for a voyage to the East 
 Indies. 
 
 OKMSBY
 
 ORMSBY? 
 
 And in his absence, I suppose, you intend addressing 
 Hie young Lady yourself. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Right, I have some thoughts of bearing down for 
 that port. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 But, Commodore, I should think the great disparity 
 of years between you and Miss Cornelia would detet 
 you from 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Deter me ; no, no, the more danger, the more honour, 
 5s a sailor's Motto ; but mayhap you may think it 
 strange, that after steering so long clear of a wife, I 
 should all of a sudden veer about and clap the matri'^" 
 jnonial tack aboard. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Why I own myself much surprized. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 He that's long at Sea, will find the wind blow frona 
 ^yery point of the Compass ; so, d'ye see, being lately 
 weather bound, in a trip I made t take observation 
 of some land that lay a head of Lady Sighnone's, I was 
 forced to put into port at her house. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 "Where you saw her beautiful daughter? 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 I did, and in the three glasses we staid there, she 
 '^rew my heart ^ith as strong an attraction, as ever the 
 loadstone did the needle. 
 
 ORMSBY.^ 
 
 Have you communicated your sentiments to the 
 W^thtr ? 
 
 COMMODORE.
 
 57 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 No, not yet,"but I intend hailing her for that pur- 
 pose directly. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Perhaps, Commodore, I can be of service to you in 
 this affair. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 As how, pray? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 I am this moment going to pay my addresses to Lady 
 Sighnone, and as I have every prospect of success, why 
 1 may 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 What the old hulk avast hold off there I'm 
 afraid you're out of your reckoning; you don't know 
 the trim of her, she'll never be brought to obey the 
 helm; however, if the current of your inclination sets 
 that way, I slia'n't attempt to stem it, tho' let me tell you, 
 she saw her two former consorts go to the bottom, and 
 jf you don't take care you'll share the same fate. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 I confess, Commodore, the prospect is terrible, but 
 I'll venture, the more danger, the more Jwnour, as you 
 say, so if you'll suspend your visit, I'll return as soon 
 as the interview is over, and inform you of my success. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Well, well, I'll lie by till then, but may I never strike 
 an Enemy's flag again, if I would not rather be rake<l 
 fore and aft by a whole French Squadron than stand 
 one broad-side from such a Turkisli Pirate. 
 
 i?Xl7 COMMODORE. R. H. 
 ORMSBY. L. H. 
 
 SCENE
 
 58 
 
 SCENE III. 
 A Back Chamber. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE (discovered at her Toilettei) 
 
 Where can this creature be let me see (looking in 
 the Glass) I think this complexion is 'the most agree- 
 able to black; one can't be too nice in suiting the com- 
 plexion to the dress. 
 
 Enter FRIPPERY. L. H. 
 
 Where have you been, Frippery, has that impudent 
 fellow Belford been here to day ? 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 No Madam : the answer your ladyship gave him 
 yesterday will defer him from coming any more. 
 
 XADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 I am vtry glad of it, an unmannerly rake-hell, not 
 worth a shilling, to have the assurance to make love 
 to a child before my face. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 'Twas monstraceous rude indeed. Ma'am, had he the 
 sense to have paid his congratulations to your ladyship, 
 he might have been excused. 
 
 LADY SIGHNOilE. 
 
 True, Frippery, I could much sooner pass over an 
 affront of that sort, offer'd to myself than her.^ 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 That I am sure of; (aside) really, Ma'am, the exqui- 
 sitive charms of your Ladyship, would be a sufficient 
 excuse for such an act of unsensibility, 
 
 lADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Oh fie ! Frippery, how can you talk in such a man 
 er, what charms can a woman of forty be supposed to 
 have? 
 
 FRIPPERY.
 
 59 
 
 FRIPPERYr 
 
 Sixty would be nearer tfie mark : (aside) your Lady- 
 ship certainly mistakes your age. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 How! mistake my age, why surely huzzy you 
 don't 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Yes, Ma'am, for by your looks I wou'd take my 
 Bible Oath on any book, you were not above five and 
 Twenty. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE, 
 
 Oh ! you flatter. Frippery, (smiling) tho' I believe I 
 do look very well for my years. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Years O lud ! my Lady, how can you talk so abrupt" 
 ly as I'm a woman of veracity, your Ladyship only 
 looks like Miss Cornelia's eldest sister. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Well you're a merry girl. Frippery, and are always 
 endeavouring to divert your poor disconsolate mistress ; 
 'alas, my dear Sir Nicholas, has been dead above these 
 three months, and no one has said a civil thing to m6 
 yet. 
 
 - Enter ROBIN. L. H. 
 
 ROBIN. 
 
 Mr. Ormsby to wait on your Ladyship. 
 
 I.ADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Shew him up bless me, what can be his business ? 
 Enter ORMSBY. L. H. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Your Ladyship's most obedient, how shall I apolo- 
 gize for this intrusion? 
 
 LADV
 
 ^ LADY SIGHHOKE. 
 
 O dear Sir, there's not, the least occasion; I think 
 you are very kind thus to visit a poor distressed afflicted 
 widow. 
 
 ORMSBY, 
 
 You are goodness itself, Madam, but I have waited on 
 you now, my Lady, upon a very particular affair, which 
 demands a few moments privacy. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Frippery, you may retire. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Yes, my Lady ; hem ! but by virtue of my office I'll 
 make bold to listen, so, my wise Sir, you might as well 
 have let me staid. 
 
 Exit R, H, U, Entrance, 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Now, Madam, that we're alone, can you forgive the 
 folly the presumption the call it what you please, 
 which urged me on to make this rash attempt. 
 
 LADY SlGHNONE. 
 
 Upon my word. Sir, I can't Comprehend you. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 And yet, when you shall know how long IV^ 
 sighed in secret, how long been tortured with despair, i 
 before I dared pronounce the sacred name of LcJve 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Love, Sir? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Yes, Ma'am,- who could behold such beauty, an<i 
 not adore ? 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 So, So, another of Miss Cornelia's lovers, but I'll 
 soon silence him ; (aside) really, Sir, this is language 
 
 I must
 
 6i 
 
 I must not suffer, 'tis highly improper for a child like 
 mine to hear, these many years to come. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Child, Ma'am is it possible you can so cruelly mis- 
 take my meaning ? 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Why, Sir, was not all this design'd for my daughter? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 For Miss Cornelia no, Madam, as your Ladyship's 
 daughter she cannot fail of charms, but I must be blind 
 indeed to offer up my vows to such a baby, 'tis you, 
 my Lady, who are the blooming Goddess of wy adora- 
 tion ; Oh ! how can I express the inconceivable tor- 
 ments of my breast, for these two years past, during 
 Sir Nicholas's life, fearful of offending, my tongue was 
 doomed to a painful silence, after his death respect 
 stiW sealed my lips, till 1 found Mr. Belford frequented 
 this house, and was, I fear'd,a favor'd lover; this made 
 me resolve to discover my hopeless passion, wait hi 
 arrival here, and force (thro' a happy rival's bosom) 
 jny way to that heart which King's might be proud to 
 call their own. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Hold Sir ! you are in an error, 'twas not to me but 
 to my daughter, his addresses were paid. 
 
 (WMSBY. 
 
 Pardon me. Madam, I cannot suppose Mr. Belford 
 so insensible as to think of any other object when you 
 are present. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Oh dear Sir, he has not half your discernment--( what 
 a charming man he is.) (aside. J 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 My character and family, your Ladyship is no 
 stranger to, my Estate is considerable, and if it be 
 
 net
 
 6s 
 
 not too great a presumption, give me leave to cast it 
 and a heart unalterably devoted to you, thus at your 
 feet. (^kneels.) 
 
 lADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 O rise, dear Sir, you overwhelm me with confusion ; 
 sure you cannot possibly find any thing so attracting 
 in a face which constant grief has made such an impres- 
 sion on. 
 
 OEM SB Y. 
 
 Hem, now for a little more nonsense, (aside) Dear 
 Widow, wrong not your beauty thus; throw on those 
 weeds of sorrow, unveil your charms, and be array'd 
 in robes more splendid, more becoming such divinity. 
 
 LABY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Impossible ; I fear. Sir, 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Impossible; Oh talk not thus, my lovely Widow 
 --Impossible! 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Almost, Sir, what will the world say of so hasty, so 
 precipitate an act? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Nothing, but that I am the happiest of men, con* 
 sider, my dear Widow, enough nave you sacrificed to 
 sorrow ; three months at least. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Oh, dear Sir, more sixteen weeks tomorrow, but 
 what are sixteen weeks, sixteen months, or sixteen 
 years, to mourn the loss of so good a man. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Come, my dear Widow, away with these melancholy 
 reflections, the best remedy for a Lady's immoderate 
 grief on the loss of a favourite, be it raonkey---lap-dog, 
 Qx husband, is to get another, 
 
 SADY
 
 6s 
 
 lApY SIGHKONE. 
 
 Indeed, Sir, I believe you are perfectly right ; I re- 
 member once, I was utterly unconsolable on the death 
 of a beautiful parrot, till the loss was supplied by an 
 nchanting owl, which was presented me. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Then, my dear Widow, let me by the warmth of my 
 passion, dry up your tears for Sir Nicholas. 
 
 LADY SIGHNOiTE. 
 
 Dear Sir, you are uncommonly persuading; well, to 
 try your constancy, wait till my year of widowhood be 
 expired, T don't know perhaps I may be tempted t 
 reward it (^languishing.) 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 A year Ma'am an age an eternity-~for heaven's 
 sake, my dear Lady, have some compassion, would yoa 
 have me die at your feet ? 
 
 I.ADY SIGHNTONE. 
 
 No dear Sir,- not for the world ; rather than yoi* 
 hould do that, I will shnrfen it---to to half the time. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 She soon drops, (aside) still, Madam, I find you are 
 cruelly resolved not to make me happy, therefore 
 hopeless and despairing let me bid you eternally fare- 
 well, {going) 
 
 LADY SI6HN0KE. 
 
 Stay dear Sir stay, what can I say, I vow you 
 are quite irrcsistable,' well then, tho' overwhelmed 
 with blushes, tomorrow 1 consent to be yours. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Retard not my joy so long my angel -but let this 
 tiight crown my happiness ; I see a kind consenting 
 imi^e sparkle in your eve and thus I thank you, 
 {^kisses her, and turns off in disgust,) Oh zouods, that 
 WA$ too muc^. {aside)
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Who can withstand such rhetoric you have con- 
 quered. Sir, and I surrender at discretion. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 And now, my dear lady, as our interests are to be as 
 ne, with your leave, I thi/ik I can assist you in dispos- 
 ing of Miss Cornelia. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 You could not oblige me more, for poor child she 
 seems in great haste to be married. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Not so much as her mother, I'll be sworn, (aside) I 
 think, my lady, I could recommend one you could 
 have no objection to; Commodore Weathergage 
 your near neighbour in the country. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Commodore Weathergage ! do you think that pos- 
 sible ? 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Nothing easier, he has been raving about her ever 
 since he accidentaly saw her at yuui house at Brooms- 
 grove, (where you may remember he was obliged to 
 take shelter during a storm,) and longs for an oppor- 
 tunity of declaring himself nay more, he knows of 
 my passion for you, and hopes this evening will unite 
 both parties. 
 
 LADY SISHNONE. 
 
 I'm sure I wou'd do any thing to oblige you, or 
 secure her felicity. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 The Commodore, Madam, is prodigiously in lovtf, 
 yet has many odd Whims, and like the element he 
 belongs to, is very subject to change? therefore we 
 had better make short work of it, and take him while 
 he is in the humour, so (with ypur permission,) I'll 
 step directly to my lawyw^ m^ order hu;^ to prepare 
 
 the
 
 ^5 
 
 the deeds, then return with the Commodore, Inean- 
 time my lovely charmer, divest yourself of those beauty- 
 veiling weeds, relume the circle you were wont to 
 shine in, and prepare to bless the happiest jtnortaljn. the 
 world. Exit L. H. 
 
 LABY SIGHNOVE. 
 
 What a bewitching man but I must set about make- 
 ing the necessary preparations immediately well, who 
 wou'd have thought this morning, that I should have 
 been a bride before night; O lud, a third husband is 
 a happiness I never expected. Exit R. H. 
 
 /?r FRIPPERY. L. H. U. Entrance.' 
 
 So, upon my word, a very tender scene, an4 quite 
 currychuristical, when Miss and her old Sea Monster 
 join them, they'll make a nice /no, but its nzor/a//y im- 
 possible all this can be real on his side, and if my old 
 Lady was not so intosticated with her good fortune, she 
 miglit easily find it out : Oh ! here comes Miss Cor- 
 nelia, now we shall hear her Sentences of the matter. 
 
 n/^r CORNELIA. R. ttV ; ' 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Frippery, what's the matter with my Mamma ? I met 
 her this moment in such unusual Spirits and 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Spirits a third Husband is enough to put any 
 woman turn'd of Sixty into Spirits, the' I'm almost 
 half that age I have not got one yet. 
 
 CORNEirA. 
 
 What do you mean? Frippery. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Mean that your Mamma's going to be married to 
 night. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 To night? 
 
 B FEIPPBRY
 
 6C 
 
 . FRIPPERY. 
 
 yes. Miss to niglif. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 More shame for her. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Aye so say I. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 I'm sure it would be fitter for her to get me a hus- 
 band first. . 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Oh ! you are to be married at the same time. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Am I? I'm afraid that's too good news to be true,-- 
 but tell me sincerely, are not you joking now ? 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Not I,, upon my word. 
 
 CORNELIA, 
 
 Well ! that's charming : only feel what a palpitation 
 It has caused -for ail the world, like the fluttering of 
 my little Robin red-breast. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Ay my dear, I have often had such Jlustrations. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 And does Mr. Belford know it? 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Mr. Belford,-.-Lord, Miss, he is not to be the man. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 No why, who then ? 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Why, his uncle Commodore Weathergage, who, you 
 Temember, once visited us in the country. 
 
 C0R"NELIA
 
 67 
 
 CORNELIA.' 
 
 What that ugly old fright who I compared to King 
 Priam, in the Pujjpet Shew ? 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 The very identical man, Miss. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Was there ever any thing so ridiculous ? he my hus- 
 band -it's a wonder, Frippery, she did not think of a 
 dancing Bear for me I'm sure he is much the more 
 agreeable and polished of the two. 
 
 FRrpPERY. 
 
 Why indeed. Miss, I must needs say, that "he is the 
 most oddest, amphibirous looking creature I ever saw ; 
 but your Mamma's resolved to make you have him, or 
 not a penny of fortune. 
 
 CORNELIA. . ..I- 
 
 A Fig for Fortune, say I before she should -unitfe: 
 me to such a compound of Age and Infirmity, I'd 
 boldly fly with the man of my heart, from splendid 
 misery, to Love, Content, and a Cottage. 
 
 Enter ROBIN. R. H. 
 
 My Lady desires you, Mrs. Frippery, to go to her 
 directly, for she wants you in all haste to help her to 
 dress. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 So, she's in a hurry I find. 
 
 ROBIN. 
 
 Hurry, ecod I believe she's possess'd ; she has ordered 
 us all to get on our state Liveries, and the Housekeeper 
 is to provide such a supper, that, lud have mercy upon 
 me, T believe the whole corpo (^beU rings J hark how 
 the bell rings, (going) Oh ! I had forgot. Miss Cor- 
 nelia, you are to go to your Mamma. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 ^ Tell her, I won't come, Robin. 
 
 FRlPPERir
 
 es 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 No 'Robin, tell her she's coming directly. 
 
 ROBIN. 
 
 Ecod ^just as you please about that, (bell rings) 
 coming, my Lady, coming Zounds, I wish the ben 
 Svere tied about your neck. 
 
 Exit R. H. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Now, my dear Miss, do you go to your Mamma, en- 
 deavour to humour her for once, only seem agreeable to 
 lier marriage, and perhaps she mayn't insist on yours^ 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Nay, I didn't care if she married a new husband 
 every month, if she'd only let me have my dear, dear 
 IMr. Belford, and I'm sure, that's not very unreason- 
 able-'-but will you, my dear Frippery, find him out 
 sts' ioon as you can? and let him know my distress. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 That I will, I assure you ; do you think I could 
 Tefuse to help such a pair of true Lorers; no, I like to 
 do as I'd be done by, and I'm sure all I wait for is,-^ 
 the man to ask me the question. 
 
 Exit R.H, 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Well, some girls now would despair, to be sure my 
 ^tuation is very critical, solely dependant on a Mo- 
 iher, denied the man Ilove, and obliged to receive 
 the odious addresses of one I hate, are difiiculties not 
 easily surmounted, yet a good heart and a fertile head 
 may do much, and if I do surmount them, I think I 
 shall deserve a Statue erected to my constancy and 
 truth. 
 
 ' Exit R. H. 
 
 End of Act Firsts 
 
 ACT
 
 69 
 A C T IL 
 
 SCENE A Chamber. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE {discovered at a Toilette 
 with) CORNELIA. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 How can you. Child, be so unreasonable as to sup- 
 pose, I would countenance Mr. Belford's addresses, in 
 preference to his Uncle's ? 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 "Why, Lord Mamma, surely, the great disparity of 
 years, between me and the old Commodore, would 
 alone be 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 ; It is in vain talking, my word is given, and I expect 
 the Commodore every moment, so<prepare to receive 
 him as your future husband, for I'm determined the 
 Nuptials shall be celebrated this very Evening. 
 
 Enter ROBIN. L. H. 
 
 Here be Mr. Ormsby and Mr. Commodore Wea- 
 thergage, to wait upon your Ladyship, 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Admit them instantly. 
 Enter ORMSBY and WEATHERGAGE. L. H. 
 Gentlemen, you are welcome. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Widow, what cheer? so, I understand you are bound 
 for another Voyage, Look ye, if the wind set fair, be- 
 like I shall bear you company. 
 
 tADY
 
 70 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE, 
 
 I am very much obliged to you, Commodore, for your 
 good wishes, and hope my daughter will entertain a 
 proper sense of them. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 O yes! he may be assured that I entertain a very 
 proper sense of thera {^as'ide.) 
 
 COMMODORE.^ 
 
 Thank you, thank you. Widow, (aside to Ormsby,') 
 suppose I haul a chair and sound the coast, to see hovr 
 the land lies. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Do so, mean time my fair Widow and I have some 
 private affairs to settle, that will require our absence 
 for a few minutes; Madam, will you honour me so far 
 
 LADY SICHNONE. 
 
 Dear Sir, I can't deny you any thing. 
 
 Exit with ORMSBY. R. H. 
 
 CORNELIA, {after a pause") 
 
 So they've left me to the mercy of this frightful man 
 of war, now for a love scene of the tenderest kind. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Now we're alone, I don't know what to say to her, 
 by the mess, I begin to find I've got out of my ele- 
 ment. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Well, I really think he his ien times uglier than 
 when I saw him last. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Hem! If I was but once fairly a float, I should do 
 well enough. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 What a pretty lover he makes; I must have a little 
 sport with nim. (aside) 
 
 COMMOCORE
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Thnt it should ever come to this ; I who have at- 
 tack'd so many first rates, to be now afraid of a little 
 cock-boat. 
 
 CORNEWA. 
 
 Pray, Commodore, what makes you look so grim? if 
 you are not well, Til go fetch some of my Mamma's 
 Stomachic Cordial for you (going.) 
 
 CCiMMODORE. 
 
 Avast, Miss, I am pretty well I thank you, won't 
 you cast Anchor, (pointing to a chair, they sit) hem! 
 pray. Miss, was you ever at sea? 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 A very good beginning, (aside) O yes. Commodore, 
 why, do you know, I once went with my Mamma as 
 far as Greenwich. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Indeed! well, Miss, what think you now of a 
 Voyage to the land of Matrimony? 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Voyage why, I always thought that people went 
 by land to be married ; now, I should like to be married 
 very well, but not to you, 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 All above board, I find; mayhap, Miss, you may think 
 my timbers are not sound, and that I want to be hove 
 down ; but let me tell you, that I am heartier than many 
 whose gingerbread rigging fly full in the wind's eye. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Grngerbread rigging; I'm sure I'd rather have a* 
 gingerbread husband than you, at any rate. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 The Devil you would ; why so ? 
 
 CbRNEtiA
 
 72 
 CORNELTA. 
 
 . Because when I was tired of playing with I could 
 eat it. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Nay, if you be like the Cannibals, Miss, f'd best 
 sheer oW, (rises) tho' I believe you'd find me damned 
 hard of digestion; however, Miss, all this is very little 
 to the purpose. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 So it is and as you seem to have very little more 
 to say, to any purpose, I'll leave you to yourself. 
 (going) 
 
 COMMOnORE. 
 
 Avast, avast, if you're for running foul a head 
 thus, I must bring you to your bearings, 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Ah ! but you can't tho', for 1 never, I'm sure, shall 
 tear the sight of you. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Look ye, d'ye see, Miss, I came hither to have 
 some serious discourse with you, because as how I 
 intended to have mess'd with you for life, but if so be, 
 you can't steer a steady course, without all this tacking 
 why I'd best slacken sail, drop a stern, and give up the 
 Chace. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Why then I will speak my mind, tho' Mamma should 
 lock me up for it; I detest the very sight of you, if 
 you were as handsome as you are ugly, and as young 
 as you are old, yet still I should hate you; My heart 
 is set on my dear, dear Mr. Belford, and have him I 
 will, tho' I creep through an Iron grate, or jump out 
 of a Garret window to him. 
 
 Exit R. H. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 So, she's slipt her anchor and run out to sea, without 
 rudder or compass, while I'm all a ground here, and 
 must wait for a spring tide to set me fairly a float again. 
 
 Enter
 
 73 
 Enter LADY SIGHNONE and ORMSBY. R. H. 
 
 LADY SIGIINONE. 
 
 Well, Commodore, Mr. Ormsby's arguments are 
 so persuasive there's no resisting ; I consent that 
 both weddings be celebrated this evening ; but bless 
 me, where 's the child gone to? 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Right a head yonder, under full sail for contradiction 
 bay. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Well, Commodore, what success? 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Success, why d'ye see, I've steered by a wrong 
 chart, and mayhap if I don't tack in time, I may chance 
 to be wreck'd upon the shallows of disappointment. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 O dear Commodore, don't mind her, she's young 
 and ignorant of her good ; I was just so at her age, 
 She'll know better ere long. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Why, to be sure. Widow, Patience is a good stream 
 Anchor, if I thought I stood fair for the harbour of 
 her affections, it's jiot a little squally weather should 
 hinder me from venturing. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 I'll insure your succeeding ; My Lady and I Ijave 
 entirely settled matters, at our return in the evening 
 every thing is to be finally concluded, you'll have your 
 writings ready, 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Ay- Ay heave a head I'll produce the Log book 
 of my Estate, at a minutes' warning. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Madam, you'll excuse me for a few moments, I'll 
 soon return ; Commodore, I'll send up your Servant. 
 
 Exit L. H. 
 
 iADTi^
 
 /4 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 O the sweet creature, I shan't have a moments' com- 
 fort, till I have absolutely secured him mine. 
 
 Exit K. H, 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 And shiver my timbers, if ever you'll let him have 
 a moments' comfort afterwards. 
 
 Enter SWAB, {drunk and singing) L. H; 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Hey avast- what's here? 
 
 SWAB. 
 
 All's safe, all's safe, your honour; steady, 
 steady's the word, no fear of bilging while Swab 
 keeps a dead reckoning. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 You lubberly dog, how came you in this trim ? 
 
 SWAB. 
 
 Steady, your honour, all's safe ; I've been aboard 
 the Grog, tossing the Can to our brave Commander's 
 Health, and success to the chace, so now, if your wor- 
 ship's glory will turn out. We'll scud home with a loom 
 gale. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 You deserve to be lash'd to the gang way, you Aoy 
 you drunken water spout, and if I come along side of 
 you, I'll soon be foul of your fore lights. 
 
 SWAB. t 
 
 Bless your precious limbs ; No, no, my noble 
 Commander, safe, safe's the word, to be sure I have 
 been sweating the Purser a little, but steady, I'm the 
 boy, I'll stand by you while I've a stick standing, or 
 can carry a rag of Canvas, (so steady boys steady,) 
 (sings) follow in my wake as soon as you please. 
 
 Exit (singing and staggering .) L. H. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Sheer off, you drunken swabber, the dog knows I 
 
 regarrf
 
 75 
 
 regard him, to be sure a better seaman never step'J 
 on a forecastle, lie has stood many a rough gale, and 
 never flinch'd, and while our Navy's man'd with such 
 brave boys 
 
 Old England with her glorious flag urtfurrd. 
 Will ever prove the wonder of the world. 
 
 Exit L. H. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A CHAMBER. 
 
 Enter CORNELIA, BELFORD ant> FRIP- 
 PERY. L. H. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 Talk not o^f danger, my sweet girl, who could be 
 .separated from you so long, and not purchase at any 
 risque, this happy interview. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 O dear, dear what a bounce my heart gave when I 
 saw you, I'm frighten'd out of my wits, if Mamma 
 catches us, we are undone for ever. 
 
 FEIPFERY. 
 
 You need not fear. Miss, your Mamma's in too great 
 a concatenation herself to mind you, and she has seni 
 all the servants out, about one frivolous thing or 
 other, however to make sure, I'll stand Sentry, and 
 give you notice, do as you'd be done by, you know, is 
 my Maxim. 
 
 Exit R. H. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 My impatience would not let me wait the success of 
 a scheme I had concerted with Ofmsby this morning, 
 I was resolved to see you, so made useofaKey, I 
 procured of the gate, at the end ol the lane, to let my- 
 self into the garden, from whence I slipt up the back 
 stairs and 
 
 COHNELIA. 
 
 You are too venturesome, yet I am glad you are 
 
 corae.
 
 7G 
 
 > ' 
 
 come to my relief, my Mamma insists positively, upon 
 my marrying your Uncle to night. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 I know it, my Angel, but we will disappoint her, if 
 you'll consent to let me convey you to a place where 
 we may be united, beyond the power of separation. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 I would run any hazard to avoid so hateful an union, 
 and yet, Belford, should you behave unkindly to me^ 
 when under your protection, it would break my heart. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 He must be a Villain indeed, who could wrong such 
 innocence, rely upon my truth and honour, embrace 
 this fortunate opportunity of escaping, and before your 
 Mother can discover your elopement, I hope we shall 
 be far enough out of the reach of a pursuit. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 With all my heart, for to confess the truth, I 
 should like to be run away with, and to Scotland above 
 all things; it will be so spirited, so fashionable, besides 
 there's nothing gives a Giil the air of consequence an 
 elopement does; to have ones name banded about in 
 all the Newspapers ; * We hear that Yesterday Even- 
 * ing the only daughter of Lady Sighnone, eloped 
 ** with a young gentleman of family, and great expec- 
 ** tations, they were immediately pursued by the young 
 ** Lady's relations, but in vain, the guardian powers 
 *' of love and beauty, had taken them under their pro- 
 **tection; Phaeton lent his chariot, Cupid was the 
 *' winged Charioteer, and Hymen on the banks of the 
 ** Tweed, with open arms, welcomed them into the 
 ** dominions of Joy and happiness." 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 My charming girl, but come, let us not waste the 
 precious moments, haste and 
 
 CORNELIA
 
 CORNELIA. '** 
 
 Stay, stay, not so hasty, stop here a few moments, 
 while I just step Up stairs for some of my best clbathst 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 No, no, my dear, we shall have no occasion for 
 them. 
 
 CORNELIA, 
 
 Ah ! but I'm afraid v/e shall tho', -and if I can but 
 slip into my Mamma's closet, I'll steal my own, Jewels 
 out. 
 
 ' BELFORD. 
 
 Not for the world, you are the only Jewel I wish 
 to possess ; let us deal honourably, and trust to her 
 generosity f^r the. future. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Then, I'm afraid, you'll trust to a broken reed. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 No matter my love, we will put it to the test, 
 Jet us proceed to Ormsby's -where (going L. H.) 
 
 Enter ORMSBY, (followed by FRIPPERY.) R. H. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Hold, not so fast, if you please; did not you promise 
 to be guided by me? this step would ruin all, take 
 jny advice, leave the Lady here, and accompany me, 
 wait the issue of the scheme proposed, which I am now 
 come to execute; Your Uncle is below, and every 
 thing in the train I could wish my life on its suc- 
 cess; Nay, no reply ; Madam, you'll excuse us, a 
 few moments will explain all, down the back stairs, 
 away, away. 
 
 Exit (with BELFORD,) K.H, 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 (After a pause.) Upon my word. Miss, this is the 
 most oddest affair, I was ever extricated in, durinc; the 
 whole current course of my life, for Mr. Ormsby tp 
 
 persuade
 
 78 
 
 ^rsuade your Lover to leave you here, instead of 
 flourishing away to Scotland without redemption ; well 
 I own its above my capacity to find out. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Ay, or mine either; I'm sure I never look'd so 
 foolish in my life. 
 
 rRIPPERY. 
 
 And well you might. Miss, to have all your schemes 
 eonjiscaled in such a manner. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 . And then, Frippery, to be disappointed of such a 
 delightful jaunt to Scotland, and exposed to th ridi- 
 cule of all ones* acquaintance ; 'Tis erifeugh to make 
 me cry my eyes out. 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 You are right. Miss, Why, I might have been 
 married three years ago, to Mr. Scraper, Lord Supple's 
 footman, but that we could not raise money enough 
 to get there, and I was determined never to follow 
 the vulgar fashion of marrying by licence, or being 
 three times asked in Church. 
 
 Enter LADY SIGHNONE, (Ridiculously drest.) 
 R. H, 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 How tediously the lazy hours crawl, to a hearl 
 impatientof its blisslike mine; Frippery, do you think 
 I am elegantly enough dressed for my bridal-day ? 
 
 FRIPPERY. 
 
 Elegant, my Lady ! why ycu are the very moral 
 of gentility. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 I'm glad of it ; O the dear sweet man, he promised 
 to be here about this time ; I wish he was come, my 
 patience is almost exhausted. 
 
 eoRNt;LiA.
 
 79 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 ff poor Mamma should be disappointed now. (aside. ) 
 
 FRIPPERY, 
 
 I warrant your Ladyship need not fear, No, no, 
 Mr. Ormsby is too much a Gentleman, to disappoint a 
 J>ady. 
 
 Enter ORMSBY amd COMMODORE. L. H. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 My dear, my beautious Widow. 
 
 LADY SIGKNONE. 
 
 My long expected love. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 I wish my Mamma would not be quite so fond, be- 
 fore company, (^aside.^ 
 
 ""^ ORMSBY. 
 
 . My dear Lady, I have been obliged to trespass on 
 your patience, in ord^r to bring this witness to my 
 iiappiness. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Ay, ay, Widow, we've crouded ail the sail we could 
 to be in at the first broadside ; and now, as we seem 
 all in the line, suppose w^e hoist the signal for en- 
 gaging. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 I hope, Madam, I have now removed every shadow of 
 dubt which your Ladyship might have entertained of 
 my sincerity. 
 
 f JJ- ,li JfliADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Entirely, Si**, entirely, and in order to convince 
 the world of my disinterested love, for so deserving an 
 object, previous to the ceremony which is to unite 
 us for ever; I here present you in the face of this 
 good company with this, A deed of gift, {giving it 
 
 Irtm
 
 him properly attested) or half my fortune at present, 
 and the other half- at my Death. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 My dear Lady, what can I say to such unbounded- 
 such unmerited proofs of your goodness. 
 
 COMMOnOHE. 
 
 Say, Zounds man, say nothing, the Widow had 
 rather be thank'd in deed than word. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 I am afraid, Commodore, that is not in my power, 
 Madam, by your blind ijifatuation, for I cannot call 
 it lovey you have now made me, sole master of your 
 fortune without reserve. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 How! am I awake? 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Faith, I believe not ; but there seems a storm rising, 
 that will quickly call all hands to work. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 -Well, this is delightful. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 I am above taking any advantage of your folly, 
 inriy sole design is fully answered ; give me leave there- 
 fore in the face of this good company, to restore these 
 writings to their jUst owner, (^delivers them to Cor- 
 nelia.) 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Oh ! I shall faint, this is too much, too much to 
 tear. (^sits.J 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Poor Mamma, so it is indeed, to lose both money 
 and husband ; Sir, I have not words to thank you 
 As I ought (to Ormsby.) 
 
 ' lAOY
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Am I betrayed then, you base deluder Villain. 
 {crying.) 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Come, come, my Lady, forgive this innocent artifice,, 
 and look upon me as your best friend ; you might have 
 fallen a dupe to some designing villain, vi^ho taking 
 advantage of your weakness, would have ruined your 
 family, and entail'd perpetual misery on yourself, 
 
 COMMOnORE. 
 
 Why, Widow, you have kept a devilish bad reckon-v 
 irig, but I thought how it would be, as for your 
 generosity in favour of my little cock-boat, Mr. 
 Ormsbt, why, I heartily thank you, and as soon as 
 the Parson can tip us a cocket, we'll stear away for the 
 matrimonial harbour directly. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 : I'm afraid Cornmodore, wind and tide are so much 
 against you, that you'll hardly be able to reach that 
 port this trip. 
 
 COMMODORE, 
 
 How this do you refuse to take convoy too? 
 
 CORNELIA. . N^ ; 
 
 No, provided I chuse my consort, I'm sure if I, 
 kept company with you, I should soon be obliged to 
 t&ke you in tow. 
 
 Enter BELFORD. L, H. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Whew ! (whistling) here's a fresh gale sprung up. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 I think, Commodore, jyoM'yi? not kept a good reckon- 
 ing, 
 
 CORNELIA (crosses to v^elfohd.) 
 And now, my dear Belford, thanks to Mr. Ormsby's 
 generosity, I have it in my power to reward your faith-; 
 
 F fu7
 
 82 
 
 ful love, take my hand, my fortune's more than suffici- 
 ent to enable us to live happily, tho* not splendidly, 
 but were it not, be assured I would chearfully prefer 
 poverty and a cottage, with the man of my jjeart, to 
 riches and the most splendid palace, with the man- 
 I dislike. 
 
 GRMSBY. 
 
 If you seriously consider. Commodore, I'm sure 
 you'll soon be of the young lady's mind ; only reflect 
 with such a g:reat disparity of years and temper, what 
 a ridiculous figure you must make, united to so bloom- 
 ing a girl. 
 
 CORNELIA. 
 
 Ay, for all the world, like David and Abishag, in 
 our old tapestry hangings. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 Come, Commodore, be generous, act like yourself, 
 fill up the marriage settlements with your nephew's 
 name, instead of your own, and receive the thanks, nay, 
 the blessings of the young couple, for so laudable an 
 act. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 My dear Uncle, upon my knees let me beg 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Rise, you land spaniel, when did you see a seaman 
 in so humiliating a posture? so after rigging myself 
 out for a matrimonial cruise, ray orders are counter- 
 manded ; I am to be dock'd, and laid up for life, as 
 unfit for service, well, well, if it must be so, it must; 
 Nephew, give me your hand, I forgive you what's 
 past, you shall go master in my stead ; but hark ye, as 
 you are but a young seaman, take my advice, don't 
 croud too much sail, or you'll be apt to overset. 
 
 BELFORD. 
 
 Never fear, Uncle, we'll steer by your direction, your 
 goodness in consenting to my union with my dear 
 
 CORltELIA
 
 83 
 
 Cornelia, makes me the happiest of men, and I hope 
 bur gratitude 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 Avast boy, no Tair weather speeches, but mtnd 
 your lielm, and d'ye hear, by way of encouragement to 
 serve his Majesty, you shall have five hundred pounds 
 bounty money, for every young volunteer you launch, 
 as soon as they are able to lisp King George Nelson 
 and the Navy for ever come Widow, what say you, 
 as we have both been a couple of ridiculous old fools, 
 to make amends, suppose you join with me and do 
 the same. 
 
 LAnY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Do the same. Commodore, (simpering) I did not 
 rightly understand you, you have not surely any seri- 
 ous thoughts of paying your addresses to me? (advance 
 ing io him.) 
 
 COMMODORE, 
 
 Me avast there, sheer off, marry you, no, sooner 
 than be tack'd to such a spit-fire, I'd turn a gun into 
 the powder room, and blow myself up. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. (cryitlg.) 
 
 ^ A brute, a monster a savage bear, fit only for 
 Greenland. 
 
 COMMODORE. 
 
 . Well, a greenland bear, is better than a lapland 
 witch, at any time. 
 
 LADY SIGHNONE. 
 
 Come along. Frippery, the men have neither eyes, 
 ars, or understanding. 
 
 Exeunt with FRIPPERY. R. H. 
 
 COMMODORE (calling after her.) 
 
 Well said. Widow,** no fool like an old one ;" heave 
 a head there, let her have sea room enough tho', or 
 she'll run foul of some of you ; but, come, let us steer 
 away for my cabin, where you shall have the best cheer 
 
 an
 
 84 
 
 an old batchelor can give, and as hearty a welcome as^ 
 the bravest sailor in the navy. 
 
 ORMSBY. 
 
 We accept your offer, Commodore, happy in having 
 brought our adventures (o so agreeable a conclusion ; 
 but permit me to remark, when instead of persevering 
 in, we nobly acknowledge our errors and amend, Satire 
 loses its sting, vice its attendant shame, while candour 
 the characteristic, of a British audience, supplies its 
 place. 
 
 COMMOnORE. 
 
 Indeed! 
 
 Then for all faults let's here (to Aiidience) indulgence^ 
 
 claim. 
 And if our friends do not dismiss with shame. 
 With Pride we'll ever own * Who was to Blame. 
 
 
 PORK STAKES ; 
 OR THE MISTAKE. 
 A COMIC STORY. 
 
 RECITED BY Mr. Meadows, theatre, whitby. 
 
 A 
 
 well known and much respected Music seller, not 
 one hundred miles from St. Paul's Church Yard, and 
 not more remarkable for the peculiarity of his speech, 
 than the unaffected simplicity of his manners, return- 
 incr home one day from the West end of the town, 
 where he had been tuneing a Piano Forte, passing by 
 St. James's Church, and casting his eye up at the clock, 
 exclaim'd ' ' iiey, why bless my soul, it's past two o'clock, 
 " I shall be too late for dinner, my brother will have 
 *' dined without me, What shall I do? oh, I know, 
 
 I know
 
 85 
 
 ** I know what I'll do, I'll go to the York Coffee 
 ** house, and I'll get me a little bit of a snack," 
 accordingly he goes to the York Coffee house in 
 Piccadilly, and after takin-g up a Newspaper, calls, 
 *' here Waiter, What can I have to eat?" Sir,** what 
 ** can I have to eat I say--don't I speak plain?" ** what 
 can I have to eat?" what ever you please^ Sir, I'll 
 bring in the bill of fare; " no Sir, I don't want the 
 billot' fare, I only want a little bit ol> snack," very well 
 Sir, what would you please to have ?---why let me see, 
 suppose you get me two or three Foaeh'd Eggs,"--Sir, 
 get me two or three poach'd eggs I say," yes Sir, 
 ** aye let me see, I'll have one two three four 
 Poach'd eggs, the waiter mistaking his orders, goes 
 to the cook and desires him to broil four Pork Stakes, 
 and when ready takes them lo him. Sir, I have brought 
 what you order'd,** \ery well young man, put'em 
 *' down, rv just finished the paper," the waiter was 
 retiring when he was suddenly called back with, 
 ** here, hollo. Waiter," Sir, ' why what the devil have 
 ** you brought me hexe?"~ what you order d Sir; 
 *' why you damn'd dog, didn't I order you as plain as 
 " I could speak, to bring me four Poach' d eggs?" well 
 Sir, they are Pork Stakes, or chops, call them ivkich 
 you please, (going) ^* come, here, Sir, I've not done 
 *' with you yet ; pray, Sir, do you know what a cock 
 \i?" a cock Sir? *' yes Sir a cock, a cock a doodle 
 ** doo ;"0h Sir you wanted a foivl * no Sir I did not 
 '* want a fowl, you owl, do you know what a cock's 
 ** wife is ? yes Sir, a hen ; very well. Sir, what is a 
 ** hen before it is a hen ? isn't it a chicken ? and what 
 * is a chicken, before it is a chicken ? isn't it a egg ? " 
 ** Oh, Sir, you wanted four Poach'd Eoos ;" Yes Sir, I 
 wanted four Poach'd eggs. ' : 
 
 N. B. The reader will here clearly perceive that tlie Peculiarity 
 ot speech alluded to, audits consequent mistake, pro- 
 ceeded, from a strong ti^s^l defect, or Obstruction in 
 the Nostril. ' " >; ' 
 
 SPECULATIOiY
 
 $6 
 3PECULATI0N; 
 
 OR 
 
 A New Way of saving a Thousand Pounds. 
 
 An Original Comic Tale. - 
 
 AS RECITED BY Mr. MeADOVVS, THEATRE, HARROWGATE. 
 
 H 
 
 .AZARD, a careless fellow known 
 At every Gambling house in town. 
 Was oft in want of money, yet. 
 Could never bear to run in debt; 
 Because, 'tis thought, no man was willing 
 To give him credit, for a shilling, 
 Dependant on dame Fortune's will, 
 He threw the dice, or well, or ill ; 
 This day in rags, the next in lace. 
 Just as it happen'd, a size, or ace; 
 Was often times, when not a winner. 
 Uncertain, where to get a dinner. 
 One day, when cruel Fortune's frown 
 Had stripp'd him of his last half crown, 
 Saunt'ring along, in sorry mood. 
 Hungry, perhaps for want of food ; 
 A parlour window struck his eye. 
 Thro' which our Hero chanc'd to spy, 
 A Jolly round fac'd personage. 
 Somewhat about the middle age. 
 Beginning a Luxurious meal. 
 For 'twas a noble loin of veal; 
 And such a sight, I need not mention. 
 Quickly arrested, his attention; 
 Surely, thought he, I know that face, 
 I've seen it at some other place ; 
 I recollect 'twas at the play. 
 And there I heard some people say, 
 ** How rich this fellow was, and what 
 A handsome daughter he had got ;'' 
 
 That
 
 ^7 
 
 That dinner would exactly do, 
 
 A loin of veal's enough for two ; 
 
 Could not I strike out some way, 
 
 To get an introduction, eh ; 
 
 Most likely tis I may endeavour, > 
 
 In vain, but come, I'll try however ; 
 
 And now he meditates no more 
 
 Thunders a rat tat at the door. 
 
 The party coloured Footman come, 
 
 *' Pray is your Master, Sir, at home ?" 
 
 My master. Sir's at home but busy, 
 
 ** Then he's engaged," quoth Hazzard, ** is he," 
 
 In voice as loud as he could bellow, 
 
 ** I'm very sorry, my good fellow, 
 
 ** It happens so, because I cou'd 
 
 ** Your master do, some little good ; 
 
 *' A Speculation that I know, 
 
 ** Might save a thousand pounds or so, 
 
 ** No matter friend, your master tell, 
 
 ** Another day will do as well ;'* 
 
 JVhat's that you say, the master cries. 
 
 With pleasure beaming from his eyes, 
 
 And napkin tuck'd beneath his chin. 
 
 Bouncing from parlour, whence within. 
 
 He'd heard those Joy inspiring sounds. 
 
 Of saving him a thousand pounds, 
 
 My dear Sir, what is that you say ? 
 
 *' Sir, I can call another day," 
 
 *' Your dinner I've disturb'd, I fear," 
 
 Do pray. Sir, take your dinner here, 
 
 Tou'UJind a welcome, warm and hearty ^ 
 
 ** I shall intrude. Sir, on your party," 
 
 There's not a soul but I, and you, 
 
 ** Well then I don't care if 1 do;" 
 
 Our spark's design, so far compleated. 
 
 Behold him at the table seated. 
 
 Paying away, as well he might. 
 
 With some degree of appetite ; 
 
 Our host, who willrng would have press'd 
 
 The thousand pounds upon his guest; 
 
 Still
 
 Still thought it wou'd not be genteej. 
 
 To interrupt him at his meal, 
 
 Which seem'd so fully to employ him, 
 
 Talking might probably annoy him. 
 
 So thought it better he should wait. 
 
 Till after dinner the debate ; 
 
 And now ** the Kinfjand Constitution, 
 
 "With ill success to Revolution, 
 
 And many a warm and loyal toast, 
 
 JIad been discuss'd, when our good host. 
 
 Thought it was almost time to say, 
 
 ** Lets move the order of the day ;" 
 
 Indeed he hardly could help thinking, 
 
 'Twas rather odd ^^his guest was drinking. 
 
 The business not a Jot the nearer, 
 
 A second bottle of Madeira ; 
 
 And that he seem'd to sit and chatter, 
 
 'Bout this and that, and tother matter. 
 
 As if he'd not the least intention. 
 
 This thousand pound of his to mention ; 
 
 Much did he wish to give a hint. 
 
 Yet knew not how he should begin't; 
 
 At length, ^^ Sir, you've forgot I fear. 
 
 The business that has brought you here ; ' 
 
 I think yoK gave some intimation. 
 
 About a saving Speculation ; 
 
 ** Ay Sir You'll find it not amiss, 
 
 *< My Speculation's simply this: 
 
 ** I hear you have a Daughter, Sir," 
 
 A daughter? well, and what of her, 
 
 JVhai can my daughter have to do, 
 
 IVith this afair'twixt me and you ; 
 
 " I mean to make your Daughter, (craving 
 
 ** Your pardon, Sir,) the jpieans of savings 
 
 ** The sum I mention You'll allow, 
 
 ** My scheme is feasable," As how, 
 
 <* Why thus I hear you've no objection, 
 
 ** To form some conjugal affection, 
 
 ** For this same daughter," No, provided. 
 
 All other -matters coincided; 
 
 Then
 
 39 
 
 ^* Then Sir, I'll suit you to a hair, 
 '*' Pray is she not extremely fair?" 
 Why yes there's many folks who praise her, i 
 But what is Beauty now a days, Sir, 
 '* Ay true, Sir, nothing without wealth, 
 ** But come suppose we drink her health," 
 Indeed I've drank enough already, 
 ' Oh fie, Consider, Sir, a Lady, 
 * By rights we should have drank her first, 
 " Pray fill," Well if I must I must; 
 " And pray what age. Sir, may she be? 
 God bless me, she's just twenty three, 
 ,** Just twenty three? faith, a rare age, . 
 
 'Sir, you were speaking of her marriage, 
 *' I was and wish to know in case, 
 ** Such an occurrence should take place, 
 ,-j'^j,^^i*f. The Sum it might be in your power, 
 ** To give with her, by wiay of dower; 
 Well then, Sir, this is my intent. 
 If married with my own consent, 
 I've no objection on such grounds. 
 To pay her down Ten Thousand Pounds ; 
 "'* Ten thousand. Sir, I think you say, , 
 
 Jdo, ** what on the marriage day? 
 ^/le whole ; *' then let her Sir be mine, 
 ^* I'll take her off your hands with nine, 
 ** And that you'll call, I'm sure, good grqund^^' 
 " For saving you a thousand pounds/' , * ' '' '^ 
 
 K I T C O D L.I N G, * 
 THE LOYAL FISHERMAN; 
 A New Comic Song. (F. Gibson, EsqA 
 
 wuvG BY Mr. Meadows, thbatre, whitby." 
 
 URN out, honey bairns, and git down to the sand, 
 Where they say those damn'd frenchmen are ganging 
 to land. 
 
 They'll
 
 go 
 
 'They'll twist round our craggs, or they'll cut all our 
 vveasons, 
 If we are not prepared at all times and all seasons ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 Those fellows have Gullets, and bellies like sharks, 
 And like other Fish, have neither breeches nor 
 sarks. 
 So turn out my lads, he who stands to consider. 
 Has the heart of a coven, the soul of a flidder ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol Idl, &c. 
 
 Those frenchmen to catch us, a lon^ time have waited. 
 And now, we are told, all their hewks are fresh 
 baited. 
 But let them come on then, those curse mother dogs. 
 They will find english Lobsters, a match for french 
 frogs ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 Some threaten like sea gulls, to dart through the sky. 
 While some Grampusmounted, thro' Ocean will fly. 
 
 Some will march at the bottom, oblique like a crah. 
 If they make us their butt, we'll return'em a Dab ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c, 
 
 K'ow let them come over, like Herrings in shoals, 
 
 They'll find us as firm, and as slipp'ry as soals 
 Like Thornbacks we'll prick'em, like Dog jish we'll 
 bite. 
 Like Barnacles stick, and like sword Jish we'll fight ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 Still their Army of England delays to come over, 
 Tho' Rafts where prepared quite from Calaisto Dover, 
 
 Yet I can't help a laugn, when I think of their plan. 
 Its all leather and wind, like a fishermans dan ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 Let
 
 0^ 
 Let the rashness of Frcf, with Dw/cA courage com- 
 bine, 
 While we all pull together, they'll ne'er break our 
 line, 
 Should they to our coast then, so bold find their way. 
 They'll never reach Whitby ^ we'll keep them at ia^ ; 
 ^ Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 Then up with the keg, Bairns, and drink out at Bung, 
 
 r hope you're content with the ditty I've sung. 
 May fishermen never their country forget. 
 
 But catch those french Sharks, in a strong English 
 net. 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 T H E O L D^pH E E S E; 
 
 An Original Comic Tale. n-)!- ^ 
 
 ; yncrtT <> 
 RECITED BY Mr. FaWCETT, AT THE THEATRE HOYAL, 
 
 Y. 
 
 COTEKT QAROXV. 
 
 OUNG Slouch^ the Farmer, had a Jolly wi^ 
 That knew all the conveniences of life, 
 "Whose diligence and cleanliness supplied. 
 The wit which nature had to him denied ; 
 But then she had a tongue that would be heard. 
 And make a better man than Slouch afraid. 
 This made censorious persons of the town. 
 Say Slouch, could hardly call his soul his own ; 
 For if he went abroad too much, she'd use. 
 To give him slippers, and lock up his shoes : 
 Talking he loved, and ne'er was more afflicted. 
 Than when he was disturb'd or contradicted ; 
 Yet still into his story she would break, 
 With ** 'Tis not so ; pray give me leave to speak,'* 
 His friends thought this was a tyrannic rule, 
 Not difTring much from calling of him fool ; 
 - * ^ ^ ToM
 
 93 
 
 Told liim he must exert himself, and be. 
 
 In fact the master of his family. 
 
 He said, *' that the next Tuesday noon would shew, 
 
 *' Whether he were the lord at home or no ; 
 
 * When their good company he would entreat, 
 
 ** To well brew'd ale, and clean, if homely meat:" 
 
 With aching heart home to his wife he goes. 
 
 And on his knees does his rash act disclose. 
 
 And prays dear Sukey, that, one day at least. 
 
 He might appear as master of the feast ; 
 
 ** I'll grant your wish," cries she, *' that you may see, 
 
 ** 'Twere wisdom to be govern'd still by me; 
 
 The guests upon the day appointed came, 
 
 Each bowsy farmer with his simp'ring dame ; 
 
 " Ho, SuCt cries Slouchy why dost not thou appear, 
 
 ** Are these thy manners when aunt Snap is here?" 
 
 ** I pardon ask," says Sue; I'd not offend, 
 
 ** Any njy dear invites, much less his friend;" 
 
 Slouch, by his kinsman Gruffy, had been taught 
 
 To entertain his friends,, with finding fault. 
 
 So made the main ingredient of the treat, 
 
 Hi^ saying there was nothing fit to eat ; 
 
 ** The boil'd pork stinks, the roast beef's not enough, , 
 
 ** The bacon's rusty, and the hens are tough ; 
 
 ** The veal's all. rags, the butter's turn'd to oil, 
 
 ** And thus I buy good meat focsluts to spoil. 
 
 ** *Tis we are the first Slouches ever sat 
 
 ** Down to a pudding without plumbs or fat, 
 
 ** What teeth or stomach's strong enough to i'eed 
 
 *' Upon a goose my granniim kept to breed ? 
 
 " Why must old pigeons, and they stale, be drest, 
 
 *' When there's so many sqiiab ones in the nest; 
 
 '< This beer is sour, 'tis musty, thick, and stale, 
 
 ** And worse than any thing, except the ale." 
 
 Sue all this while, many excuses made, -^ 
 
 Some faults she own'd, at other times she laid, I 
 
 The fault on chance, but oft'ner on the maid. J 
 
 Then cheese was brought, says Slouch, " this e'en shall 
 
 ** roll, 
 ** I'm sure 'tis hard enough to make a bowl ; 
 ^ ' "This
 
 92 
 
 ** This is skim milk, and therefore it shall go, 
 
 ** And this, because 'tis Suffolk, follow too ;" 
 
 But now Sue's patience did begin to waste. 
 
 Nor lonojer could dissimulation last, 
 
 ' Pray let me rise," says Sue, my dear I'll find,' 
 
 *' A cheese perhaps may be to levy's mind ;" 
 
 Then in an entry standing close, where he 
 
 Alone, and none of all his friends, might see. 
 
 And brandishing a cudgel he had felt. 
 
 And tar enough on this occasion smelt ; 
 
 ** I'll try my Joy," she cried, if I can please, 
 
 ** My dearest with a taste of his Old Cheese;" 
 
 Slouch turn'd his head, saw his wifes vigorous hand. 
 
 Wielding her oaken sapling of com.mand ; 
 
 Knew well the twang, *' is't the old cheese my dear, 
 
 ** No need, no need of cheese," cries Slouch, 
 
 *' swear, 
 *' I think, I've din'd as well as my Lord Mayor. 
 
 r dear, 
 
 i, - rill 
 
 or." J, 
 
 A COMIC SATIRIC ADDRESS, 
 
 IN CHARACTER OF 
 
 TOUCHSTONE RIDING ON AN ^SS. 
 {S.Kemble.) 
 
 AS RECITED AND SUNG BY Mr. DaVIS,' THEATRE, WHITBY. 
 
 I 
 
 N times remote 'fore Luxury was known, 
 Or asses into disrepute were thrown. 
 This Ass had sold at market or at Fair, 
 For such rare parts, fall to few Asses share; 
 Look at my Ass Neddy's a pretty creature. 
 Examine him, observe his every feature : 
 His upright long broad ears, give to his face. 
 An easy air of fashion, and of grace ; 
 
 But
 
 ;, 94 ' 
 
 But most of all, Jifs noble Grecian nose. 
 
 How like he is, to many modern Beau's; 
 
 Yet the similitude, might more prevail, 
 
 Were I to dock his ears, and crop his tail ; 
 
 One thing there is indeed, in Ned's condition,' 
 
 Holds no resemblance, to an Ass of fashion ; 
 
 His Tailor for his Bill, can never dun him. 
 
 This ever lasting grey, will still become him : 
 
 Your foolish swaggering, tonish weak buffoons. 
 
 Parade in divers colour'd Pantaloons; 
 
 The livery Joseph's brethren of old. 
 
 Gave, when they Joseph into bondage sold. 
 
 And thus it is, that many an Ass of Ton, 
 
 As Joseph was, in bondage z'z7(? are thrown; 
 
 Neddy's indeed, get dirty now and then. 
 
 But rub'em, they'ie as good as new again. 
 
 Dyed in the grain, his coat can never fade, 
 
 'Tis nature's work, and well she knows her trade i 
 
 Upon your learning Ned, I'll lay no stress. 
 
 If not an L. L. D. you're A. S. S. 
 
 A learned Pig, we know for once may do, 
 
 One learned ass, believe me would be new^ 
 
 The thing's impossible, so there's an end. 
 
 An Ass will always be an Ass, my friend ; 
 
 In life's short Journey, Neddy, keep your place. 
 
 And don't stare modest females out of face ; 
 
 Never porsue a maid to her undoing, 
 
 Let no she Ass accuse you of her ruin ; 
 
 'Mongst men (tho' common) those things we contemn. 
 
 Let them ape ^'om, but pray don't you ape thenii 
 
 And now your catechism, (Neddy,) 'tis not long. 
 
 And I'll, to please you, shape it in a song ; 
 
 Plain answer make to every question pray, 
 
 And what you can't pronounce, why you may bray,' 
 
 He's sometimes stubborn tho', and takes the Pet, 
 
 And then I act the ass in the Duett, , 
 
 Yet still I'll prove by rule, that he's content. 
 
 My rule is thisj his silence gives consent. 
 
 DUETT.
 
 95 
 DUETT. 
 
 Tune, " All among the leaves so green O.'* 
 
 In each calling and each trade. 
 Men are daily asses made. 
 From the great man now in place. 
 Wearing Garter, Star or Lace, 
 To the Ass in place before, 
 Who is now kick'd out of door, 
 
 All among the leaves so green G, 
 When they sign, that they resign, 
 All that passes, shews they're Asses, 
 
 (Speaks) Don't it Neddy ? (BRAYS) ''There 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, he says yes, as plain as he 
 can;" 
 
 High down, ho down, 
 Derry, derry down. 
 
 All among the leaves so green O, 
 
 So the man in common life. 
 Is an Ass made by his wife, 
 When with namby pamby speeches. 
 Coaxing him out of his breeches. 
 Then the Ass led by the nose, 
 Forfeits quiet and repose ; 
 
 All among the leaves so greeen O, 
 Like any Mill, her clack ne'er still. 
 Farewell quiet, welcome riot: 
 
 (Speaks)'' Un tit so Neddy?" (BRAYS) " there 
 Neddy says yes, Indeed the greatest Ass in the world, . 
 knows its a common case among married people ;" 
 
 High down, ho down, derry, derry dowa> 
 All among the leaves so green O. 
 
 And now Neddy without art. 
 You have play'd your sluggish part. 
 If from censure you get clear, 
 /have nothing then to fear.
 
 90 
 
 And before we next appear. 
 We'll improve there is no fear, 
 
 All to fill up the Farcical scene O; 
 
 (Speaks) ** What say you Neddy? will you try to 
 improve in your calling? (BRAYS) * There Ladies 
 and Gentlemen, he says yes, and so far you may de- 
 pend upon his sincerity, that what ever he says he'll 
 stand to, and now Neddy, 
 
 We must part, with all my heart, 
 I to play, you to bray. 
 
 High down, ho down, &c. 
 
 THE KING'S PICTURE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 AN. ANSPTER TO ABRAHAM NEJVLAND. 
 
 (C Dibdin, Jun.) 
 
 suNa BY Mr. Meadows, theatre, bevebley. 
 
 M> 
 
 .R. Abraham Newland's a monstrous good man. 
 But when you've said of him what ever you can. 
 Why all his soft paper would loo-k very blue. 
 If it wasn't for the Yellow boys, pray what think you ; 
 
 "Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 With Newlands fer letters of credit proceed. 
 
 Pray what would you do, where the people can't 
 read. 
 But the worst of all dunces, we know very well. 
 Only shew him a Guinea, I warrant he'll spell ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, bcc. 
 
 Your Lawyers and Doctors, and them sort of folks, 
 I^Who with fees and such fun> you know, never stand 
 Jokes, 
 
 In
 
 ^7 
 
 In defence of my Argument, try the whole lote. 
 Sure they'll all take a Guinea, before a pound note; 
 
 Tol loi de rol lol, &c. 
 
 The french would destroy all our credit and trade, . 
 
 If they were not unable, asham'd or afraid, 
 They may talk of our king, but let who will be victor. 
 
 They'd be devilish glad, to get hold of his picture; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 From this Picture so precious, may Britain's ne'er part. 
 
 While the glorious original reigns in her heart. 
 And while we've such Tars, as our Navy can boast. 
 With our King and his Picture, we must rule the 
 roast ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 A COMIC POETIC BAGATELLE 
 
 CALLED, 
 
 THE BARBER'S PETITION; 
 
 "With his Whimsical defence of Wigs ; 
 
 Particuhrly the Lover's /f%, the Doctor's Wtgy-^ 
 the Counsellor's fVig,^the Coachman's fVig^ and his 
 
 Own JVig. 
 
 AS RECITED AND SUN<5 BY Mr. MeADOWS, THEATRES, 
 KEKOAL, WHITBY, &C. &C, 
 
 P. 
 
 Speaks without. 
 
 EACE-peace good wife, or if thy tottgue won't 
 stop, 
 Keep thoU the parlour, and I'll keep the shop. ' 
 
 9 Enters
 
 9f 
 
 Enters R, H. 
 
 So that storm's weather'd, safe now into harbour, 
 I'm at your service, Gent's, {bows) a Village Barber; 
 IMlv name is Joseph, but 'tis fit you know, / 
 
 Boys in derision, oft call me barber Joe ; 
 , Thus introduced, with leave, I'll lay before yc, 
 A Barber's simple but unhappy story ; 
 Gent's, I am married, first let me be sure, 
 'My wife s not listening, t'other side the door ; 
 No-no, all's safe she's busied in the charms, 
 Of four fine daughters, and a son in arms : 
 A fine fat bouncing boy, and wondrous fair. 
 As like his daddy too, as he can stare. 
 The girls all like Mamma, and on my life, 
 Venus is not much handsomer than my v^^ife ; 
 A happier pair I'm sure there could not be. 
 Did not we somehow always disagree ; 
 If 1 am mute 'tis well, but if I'm bold. 
 Then she. Lord bless us ! is an arrant scold ; 
 'Tis true, at this I should not much repine, 
 'Tis many a good man's lot, as well as mine, 
 !But when my wife, in bold defiance dares. 
 To snatch the wig, from off my very ears ; 
 My pride can't bear it, I cannot then be mute, 
 The Wig^ my wig's a serious subject for dispute. 
 She wants this comely bob, judge is it fair. 
 Cast off, and I a barber too, to dress my hair, 
 ^ut.no good wife cries I, rather shall Joe, 
 His lifetime in a flannel night cap go ; 
 father shall frizeurs with foreign face on. 
 Hang out for sign the Barbers pole and bason. 
 Than I a Barber, frizzle locks, 
 On any but my own plain simple blocks, 
 *' Pooh" cries my wife '* be quiet, prithee do," 
 * As fashions alter we mi^st alter too, 
 '* Throw by the bob then, Joe, or devil take me, 
 ^* Jf I once get fair hold on't but I'll make ye ;"" ; / 
 Roused I replied, no mill clack sure runs faster, 
 Than^^i^at pert tpngue of thine 'gainst Lord and Master; 
 I * , ' . Abuse
 
 99 
 
 Abuse ought else, I value it not a fig, 
 
 But pray thee wife remember, a wig a wig's a wig ! 
 
 Excuse my warmth good folks, 'twixt man and wife. 
 
 Less things than wigs, have caused a deal of strife : 
 
 I keep thi$ shop, and doubtless you'll agree, 
 
 It were but gratitude, the shop kept me. 
 
 But no, the heads that used to be all bald and bare. 
 
 Now overgrown are, with a fleece of hair: 
 
 To vou then I present my just Petition, 
 
 Will you wear Wigs, and better my condition ? 
 
 Pray do, good folks, necessity is pressing. 
 
 Get your heads shaved, and prithee leave of dressing. 
 
 My wife perhaps may cease to scold and grumble. 
 
 My shop may thrive, and 1 shall be your bumble; 
 
 Besides from wigs your merry smiling faces. 
 
 Will gain sure, all imaginable graces. 
 
 With leave I'll prove it, and like Poets big, 
 
 With theme sublime, tho' mine's an humble wig, 
 
 I'll raise my voice, and in a Barber's song, 
 
 Chaunt all the praises that to Wigs belong. 
 
 Of all the gifts Dame Nature gives, and mighty man 
 
 possesses, 
 Tho* varied as they well can be, none equal to the face 
 
 Yet wigs you must allow, nay I'll prove it by example. 
 Lend force to every feature, and this Bob is my first 
 sample ; - , 
 
 ** 'Tis a pretty bob &c. and gives the face a sort of a 
 
 Moderation, ^c. 
 
 I call this Bob the Lover's Wig, because you see it 
 
 made is, 
 To play the very devil with the hearts .of: all the 
 
 Ladies, f;)f;mqcifi" 
 
 Nay smile not you'd scarce think it, but wJthout the 
 
 least design. 
 Scores of females have felt the power, of this little 
 
 Bob of mine ; 
 ** Because when I've smiled from under it I've scen'em 
 
 all in a Twilteration, ^c. 
 
 Woulcf
 
 100 
 
 Would" you your Chloe's heart besiege as soldiers do a 
 ^.^ city, _ ; 1 
 
 [First arm your heads, as mine is now, I warrant Joe 
 
 . shall fit you. 
 Then from each ey6, let glances fly, thus as it were at 
 
 random. 
 If lovers wou'd but attack in wigs, the ladies cou'd 
 
 not withstand'em; 
 ** Because an ogle or a leer from a bob puts their 
 
 hearts in a Palpitation, t^c. 
 
 .To the Doctor when,he his Patient asks to swallow 
 
 Draught or Pill, 
 This wig Avould give a simple face a monstrous deal 
 
 of skill, 
 jEach muscle full of gravity, what wisdom in the eye, 
 Pray where's the Doctor's wisdom now the wig's 
 
 thrown by ? 
 f 'All simplicity, all vacant like mine, and full oiStupi- 
 -.. JLcaiioriy 2?c. " * , .' . 
 
 This blockhead now a Lawyer, a moment let's suppose. 
 All tricks and cases, quirks and statutes, mighty well 
 
 ' he knows, . 
 
 ,!3*hi8 Wig denotes him counsellor, and wise he does 
 
 appear, 
 Unwig'd and he's empty as any blockhead standing 
 
 here; 
 5* So you see in a Lawyer as well as a Doctor, it's the 
 
 wig makes all the Alteration, ^c. 
 
 With this snug little knowing wig, pray let me iiow 
 
 approach ye. 
 It wou'd (that is) if it cou'd but speak, say it was 
 
 made for Coachy, 
 Thus wigs give character to men, I speak it not in 
 
 raillery. 
 Without this wig who'd know that was a Coachman 
 
 in the Gallery, 
 
 * I don't
 
 lOI 
 
 /-.'' . 
 
 ** I dont mean that Gemman with his arm round the. 
 Lady's waist and his face full of love and Agita-^ 
 iioji, &c. 
 
 And now to married folks, whose wives delight to 
 
 scold and domineer, 
 I fain, wou'd speak a word or two in private in their 
 
 ear. 
 Let all your heads be closely shaved, and shaving too 
 
 will coorcm, ^ , i 
 
 For depend on it, when your locks are ofFyour wives 
 
 can never pull'em; . 
 
 ** Besides the heads of married men should always be 
 
 cool, clear and in Moderaiiony I3c. 
 
 But stop I fain would speak two words, I hope good 
 
 folks you'll bear'em. 
 Who'd rather part with powder'd locks, than giv 
 
 your gold to wear'em, 
 Sincf you no longer need the puff, nor will be guinea 
 
 pigs, . 
 
 Oh keep poor Joe, assist his trade, and let him malts 
 
 your wigs ; 
 *' Withbut a dust pf powder for then you'd stilt he 
 
 liable to Taxeration, S^c. 
 
 The times are monstrous hard, good lack, no frizzing 
 
 in the nation, / 
 
 But yet I hope for pooi: Joe's sake^ Beards won't go 
 
 out of fashion, Jij^-i ,.,, ff.,.^.^.- 
 if you'll entrust him with your c6in8,'all dangers he 
 
 will brave. 
 And then, sirs, as in duty bound, honest Joe will ever 
 
 shave ; 
 * For a penny, cut hair, for two-pence with good razor 
 
 smoaking hot lather, clean cloth and all to Ad- 
 
 miratioTif ^c. 
 
 OCCASIONAL
 
 102 
 
 OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE ; 
 
 SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW THEATRE, 
 NORTHALERTON ; 
 
 On Monday evening Oatoher the 6th 1800, 
 BY Mr. Meadows. 
 
 T, 
 
 (Cross and Dibdin, Junior. ) 
 
 } 
 
 HE Stoic's plan is futile, which requires. 
 Our wants supplied, by lopping our desires. 
 As well by this vague scheme might we propose. 
 Cut of your feet, 'twill save the price of shoes ; 
 As well might we, thus courting public favour. 
 To gain your plaudits, lop ofFall endeavour. 
 The thought we spurn, be it our constant aim, 
 By assiduity to gain a name. 
 Your approbation points the road to Fame; 
 Each effort use, nor e'er a moment pause. 
 To reap that golden harvest, your applause. 
 Sweet is the balm, which hope's kind aid bestows. 
 To lighten grief, or mitigate our woes. 
 To raise desponding merit, banish fear. 
 And from the trembler, wipe the falling tear; 
 To diffidence inspire its dread beguile. 
 And doubt extinguish, with a chearing smile ; 
 That task be yours, my co-mates with some dread, 
 Depute me here their wilhng cause to plead. 
 Your fiat must our future fates controul, 
 For here our chief has ** garner'd up his soul ;" 
 Eager to please, his throbbing heart beats high. 
 By you depress'd or swcli'd to extacy; 
 Then bid the phantom fear at once depart. 
 And rapture revel, in his anxious heart. 
 From you, ye fair, who gaily circling sit. 
 The galaxy of beauty, and of wit, 
 
 Oi
 
 103 . . 
 
 Or you gay goddesses, who lofty tow'r,' 
 
 And urje the laughing gods to cry encore. 
 
 To critic man no wnrm appeal we need, ^ 
 
 He'H sure applaud if beauty takes the lead ; 
 
 And in the fair complacent smiles we view. 
 
 Pleasures unpleasinig^ if unfelt by you ; 
 
 ** Who ne'er withhold the tribute of applause, 
 
 *' Which merit claims from truth's unerring laws^ 
 
 ** But come determined well each generous breast, 
 
 *' 7^o approve what's pleasing, and forgive the rest, 
 
 * Laugh where you can, our drooping fires 'twill raise/ 
 
 ** And nobly pardon, where you cannot praise." 
 
 I 
 
 A BUNDLE OF WANTS, 
 
 IN WHICH EACH PERHAPS MAY FIND HIS OWK J 
 
 A New Comic Song. 
 Tune, " Religion's a Politic Law." 
 
 F you think it would make you all merry, 
 
 I'll sing you a song about want, 
 Tho'of wit I am sure I want plenty. 
 
 For alas that with me is quite scant ; 
 But a woman without e'er a tongue. 
 
 She never can scold very loud, 
 And a man that is both deafand dumb. 
 
 Can make no great noise in a croud ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol, &c; 
 
 Poor Jack with no shot in his locker. 
 
 May wander nobody cares whither, 
 And there no greater want for a Cobler, 
 
 Can be, than his wanting of leather;' 
 A man if he wants but one leg, 
 
 Will make but a pitiful runner. 
 And if he should chance want an eye. 
 
 He'll sure make a very bad gunner ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol, &c. 
 
 A tailor
 
 104 
 
 A Tailof if wanting a goose, 
 
 Perhaps rqay be wanting a dinner. 
 And a woman that riots and scolds. 
 
 Wants grace or else I'm no sinner ; 
 A brewing if wanting of malt, 
 
 I'm sure must prove very bad beer. 
 So a woman if wantmg a f';iulf, 
 
 She like'a bright star will appear; 
 
 Tol lol de rol, &c* 
 
 A Mountibank without a fool. 
 
 And a courtier turn'd out of place. 
 Or a Tinker without any tools. 
 
 They're all in a comical case; 
 A Solviier if wanting his pay. 
 
 Perhaps too, may murmur and curse. 
 And a man who is wanting of money. 
 
 Can have no great need of a purse ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol, &c. 
 
 A Ploughman without e'er a plough, 
 
 I think he may live at his ease. 
 And a dairy without e'er a cow, / 
 
 Will not make much butter and cheese; 
 A Farmer without any corn, 
 
 Can neither give, sell, no, nor lend. 
 But a huntsman that's wanting his horn. 
 
 Why his wife may perhaps stand his friend ; 
 
 Tol lol de rol, &c. 
 
 The wants of your humble are simple, 
 
 'Tis the favour of your kind applause. 
 But gratitude never was wanting, 
 
 Nor respect to religion and laws; 
 In the hope foo that none of my friends, 
 
 Will be much displeas'd at my song. 
 Yet for fear that it should be the case, 
 
 I'll now take my leave and begone; 
 
 Tol lol de rol, &c. 
 
 TONY
 
 105 
 TONY LUMPKIN'S RAMBLE. 
 
 AS BECITED BY Mr. MeAOOWS, THEATaS, WHITBY. 
 
 (Altered from O'Keeffe.) 
 
 Y, 
 
 OUseemall to wonder, farcJ, whois thisBumpkin? 
 Why that I'lt soon tell you, I be young Squire Lump- 
 kin, 
 Cousin Con and my sister, they both have got married. 
 And mother to church yard, heels foremost were car- 
 ried ; 
 To leave old father Hardcasik^ I thought no great sin. 
 And with cash and Bet Bouncer^ the world to begin, 
 iJf/ wept like the rain, and did nothing but pout. 
 When I told her for Lunnon, I'd Purely set out. 
 But when that she found she was with me to go. 
 For joy 'gad she got almost how came you so; 
 Lunnon lord how I laugh'd at their weals winegars 
 
 toasteses. 
 And running their ^st^ses 'gainst the stone posteses. 
 They said 'twas a fine place and egad they were- right. 
 There is every tiling there, that can give yoq delight; 
 Yet little you'll get, without money to buy it, 
 I hope none of us here'II have occasion to try it ; 
 When gold is the crop, 'gad they know how to reap it. 
 Aye, and when they have got it, they know how to 
 
 keep it ; 
 The sights in the Tower, I thought very charming. 
 But Bet said, the Lions were monstrous alarming; 
 We saw the jjrand Bank, and both the Exchanges, 
 From the Parliament house, why we went to St. 
 
 James; 
 There wfe saw our good King, and, says I, heaven* 
 
 bless him. 
 May none of his enemies ever distress him. 
 We return'd thro' the Park, saw the Waxwork and 
 
 Play, 
 And then to Vauxhall Bet and I jogg'd away ; 
 
 Therp
 
 loG 
 
 There, says she, Tony, may I die an oltl maid, 
 
 If I don't go this night, to the grand Masquerade ; 
 
 Our dresses we liired, pop'd into a coach. 
 
 But e'er to the rooms we cou'd make our approach, 
 
 A mob all surrounds us and each like a hector. 
 
 Roars out **1 say, Sir, won't you tell us what's yoUjr 
 
 character;" 
 In our masquerade dresses, we'd such fun and such glee. 
 With, I'm sure I know you, pray don't you know me ; 
 "When tired of dancing to cards we sat down. 
 And I in my lawyers big wig and black gown ; 
 A Dutchman play'd commerce, a Captain play'd brag, 
 A Quaker pl-ay'd whist, but I like a wag. 
 From the top to the toe as a lawyer array'd, 
 Beggar my neighbour egad, was the game that I play'd. 
 We danced all the night and slept all the next day, 
 Theii awoke the next morning as jocund as May, 
 Till of lions and tomb-stones and such sights quite 
 
 weary, 
 I sat out for Yorkshire with Betsy my deary; 
 For, thinks I, when at home that I open my mouth, 
 They shall find that the north I have seen well as 
 
 south ; 
 So without any pother and in less than a minute. 
 Was the chaie at the door, and pop we were in it. 
 In two days and a half we arrived safe in this town, 
 I, as smart as you see. Bet, in her nobodied gown: 
 Gad she looks mighty pretty, so rosy and fat. 
 As she walks by my side, in a little straw hat. 
 To see all the fine sights. Bet makes a great rout. 
 So till dinner was ready, why we santer'd about ; 
 *' We went over the bridge, saw the town house and 
 
 church, 
 ** Which seems to have left all the town in the lurch, 
 ** What a number of steps did poor Bet and I count, 
 ** Gad I thought to the skies we were going to mount ; 
 *' We saw all the docks, the Guard-house and Pier, 
 ** And at Clark'sGolden Lion, found very good cheer ; 
 ** At dinner we'd plenty of what was in season, 
 * Good wine good attendance, and the bill was in 
 
 reason, 
 
 The
 
 loy 
 
 <' The first toast after dinner, which I gave with three 
 
 cheers, 
 ** Was success to the Town and to its Volunteers;" 
 I thought that the best way to finisli the day, 
 Was to treat both myself and dear Bet to the Play, 
 Perhaps you may think that I'm full of my raillery. 
 When I tell you I left her just now in the gallery : 
 Thereshe is thb' she's lusty I hope she don't throng ye. 
 You may laugh but by jingo Bet Bouncer's among ye ; 
 Coming down here to buy her some apples and pears. 
 My old friend Tom Meadows, I met on the stairs. 
 For all your kind favours I've oft heard him say. 
 No words can express them no language convey. 
 On his true hearty thanks you may safely depend. 
 And with life that his gratitude only will end. 
 
 THE WEDDING OF BALLIPOREEN. 
 
 (StatiJield.J 
 Tune, *' Ballinamona Oro." 
 
 TT* END ye chaste nine, to a true Irish bard. 
 You're old maids to be sure, but he sends you a card. 
 To request you'll assist a poor musical elf, 
 With a song ready made, he'll compose it himself. 
 About maids, boys, a priest and a wedding, 
 With a croud you could scarce thrust your head in, 
 A supper good drink and a wedding. 
 That happen'd at Balliporeen. 
 
 'Tvyas a fine summer's morning, 'bout twelve in the 
 
 day, 
 All the birds fell to sing, all the asses to bray. 
 When Patrick the bri<^egroom and Oonagh the bride, 
 In their best bibs and tuckers set ofF side by side. 
 The piper went first in the rear. Sir, 
 The rnaids blush'd, the bridesmen did swear, Sir, 
 Oh fait how the spalpeens did stare. Sir, 
 At our wedding at Balliporeen. 
 
 They
 
 lo8 
 
 They were soon tack'd together, and home did re- 
 turn. 
 To make merry the day at the sign of the Churn, 
 Where they sat down to Junket, a frolicksome group. 
 Oh the shades of old Shannon ne'er saw such a troop. 
 There were turf-cutters, threshers and tailors. 
 There was harpers and fidlers and nailors. 
 With smugglers and pipers and sailors. 
 Assembled at Balliporeen. 
 
 Now they sat down to meat, father Murphy said grace, 
 Smoaking hot were the dishes, and eager each face. 
 The knives and forks rattled, spoons and platters did 
 
 play. 
 And they jostled and elbow'd and gobbled away. 
 Rumps, chines and fat surloins did groan, Sir, 
 Whole mountains of beef, were cut down. Sir, 
 They demolish'd all to the bare bpne. Sir, 
 At this wedding at Balliporeen. 
 
 There was bacon and greens, but the turkey was spoil'd 
 Potatoes dress'd both ways, both roasted and boil'd. 
 There were herrings, black puddings, the priest got 
 
 the snipe 
 iCalcannon, pies, dumplings, cod, cow-heels and tripe. 
 Then they eat, till they cpu'd eat no more. Sir, 
 And the whisky came pouring gallore. Sir, 
 Oh how Teddy Mc. Manus did roar. Sir, 
 Fait he bother'd all Balliporeen. 
 
 Now the liquor went round, and the songsters did roa-r, 
 Tim sung *' Paddy O Whack,," Peg '* Molly a store," 
 Till a motion was made, that their songs they'd forsake. 
 And each boy take his sweetheart, their trotters to shake. 
 Then the couples and pipers advancing 
 Brogues, Pumps and barefeet fell a prancing 
 Such jigging such reeling and dancing 
 Was ne'er known at Balliporeen. 
 
 But
 
 100 
 
 3ut the maids growing tired, and the men growing 
 drunk. 
 
 The Bridegroom gr'ew sleepy, and away the Bride 
 slunk. 
 
 Some saddled their garrons, sbxht bolc'd in the lanes. 
 
 And a pretty black eye, Murtoucli gave to Macshane, 
 Some knock'd down in the dirt were a crawling. 
 The men roar'd, and the girls fell a squalling. 
 And some in the ditches were sprawling. 
 Such fun was at Balliporeen. 
 
 Now to Patrick the Bridegroom and Oonaghthe Bride, 
 t^et the harp of Old Ireland be sounded with pride. 
 And to all the brave guests, large or small grey or green. 
 Drunk or sober, who jig'd it at Balliporeen, 
 
 And when Cupid shall lehd you his wherry, 
 
 To trip over the conjugal ferry, 
 
 I wish you may be half so meri:y 
 
 As we were at Balliporeen . 
 
 A vARiEipY OF COMIC SKETCHES selected from 
 THE LECTURE OS HEARTS (Dodd.) 
 
 Including a dissertation on Hearts -A Royal Heart 
 
 '" The Heart of a true British Tar ; or. Navy Agent's 
 A Coward's ; or Bully's--^ True Courage ; or a Real 
 Captain's- A Light Heart ; or Good Natured FeU 
 low's- Old Gripus' (the Usurer's) Dr. Mathew 
 Musty' s a Pedant's and Lawyer Latitat' s. 
 
 LECTURE UPON HEARTS Part ist. 
 
 y^adies and Gentlemen, 
 
 ' The town has been -amused for sometime past with 
 lectures on heuds, which are certainly the least valuable 
 parts of us Britons. But we have frequently shewn to 
 the World the greatness and the goodness of our hearts, 
 '"- as
 
 no 
 
 as a proof of my assertion, I can appeal (o the rl^tail of 
 almost every battle or siege by land or sea, in which 
 we have ever had any share, to prove tlie greatness and 
 courage of our hearts, and the numberless charitable 
 institutions in these kingdoms, prove tijeir goodness. 
 Therefore I hope none will deny that I have chosen 
 the noblest subject, in giving a lecture upon hearts. 
 
 As among the wrong heads of this nation, some good 
 and vvise ones may be found, so from among the great, 
 good, generous, open and benevolent /i^ar/.9, some may 
 deselected, which are weak, cowardly, base, canker'd, 
 false and rotten ; but I hope their number is very very 
 small. 
 
 I thought the sight of so many real hearts, might be 
 disgusting to the ladies, therefore have caused them tQ 
 be delineated on paper. I must own the similitude 
 wou'd have better been preserv'd in wood, or stone, 
 and accordingly I sought out for a heart turner, but 
 cou'd not procure one in the whole Metropolis ; for 
 all who professed that business, were engaged as 
 journeymen to the several tabernacles, and too numer- 
 ous Methodist meetings. 
 
 Shewing an 1 This Ladies and Gentlemen is a 
 upright heart, j sound upright heart; every organ of 
 sense led to it, and made thereon the impression nature 
 idesign'd it should. It was ever compassionate to the 
 distresses or wants of its dependants; it was fill'd with 
 real courage, tru6 piety, sound patriotism, and every 
 thing great, good and glorious, which dfstinguishes and 
 dignifies the man. This heart has been worn by many 
 of our british monarchs, and may be justly named a 
 truly royal heart. Alfred the great, Edward the third, 
 Henry the fifth, William the third, and George the 
 first and second, each have severally worn this heart; 
 and if any shou'd ask where it now resides; my answer 
 is, in the breast of //im whom we now serve. 
 
 Shews a wainscot | This is the heart ofa british 
 
 coloured heart. j sailor made of the same stuff 
 
 as the ship's bottom, Solid English Oak. We found 
 
 ^ several
 
 Ill 
 
 several cavities in this heart differently filled ; In one 
 was courage, in another inconsiderate prodifjality, in 
 a third downriirht honesty, and a fourth was filled with 
 flip, and his VVappinglaiidlady'sdaughter. One morn- 
 ing being at the mast head, he spied thtee sail, which 
 he perceived to be enemies: He joyiuliy call'd aloud, 
 "Quartermaster!" "Hollo!" " Strand my top gal- 
 lant eye strings, if there be not thrc sail under our lee 
 bow." The quarter master acquainted the quarter 
 deck therewith ; the ship was cleared for action, and 
 all hands to quarters. Jack fortified himself with a 
 large suck from his case bottle before his chest was 
 struck down into t!ie hold, and thus addressed Florence 
 O Flaherty and Angus Mac Gujfin, two of his messmates, 
 " D'ye hear, messmates, d'ye mind me? people may 
 jaw as much as they will about these here French men, 
 but unreeve the laniards of my heart, and cast off the 
 tjreechings and tackles of my soul, if ever I knew them 
 stand tightly to a good lustle." " Jock, (Answers 
 Angus Mac Guffin) ye mun learn that it isnae policy 
 te despise your enemy, for where is the honour of 
 getting the victory, when ye ha none but cowardly loones 
 to combat wi? I grant ye, lad, that the French ha na 
 sic like merit in arms that can compare untull we ; arid 
 the reason is right easily geevin, because they are aw 
 slaves, and ken not the sweets of liberty. They fight 
 only tor the siller, and because they canna' help it; 
 while we fight for the honor of our gued King, (God 
 bless em,) for the gued ot our Country, and to pre- 
 serve our ain families fra poverty and slavery." To 
 him O Flaherty replied, "O rily dear Angush ! ha 
 done wld your botherations ; devil burn me if I know 
 any thing at all at all ; but I'll tell you what I fight for : 
 Ifight to keep up my charecter^ and the charecter of 
 my country; for never did no man since the days of 
 Pheen Mac Hoole, see an Irishman turn his back, while 
 he cou'd stand with liis faish forward. Oh ! moria 
 mon Dyowle, who ever saw an Irishman a coward? 
 " Honest Jack replied," Messmates, I know you are 
 ^th good fellows, that will stand to your guns, while 
 '- there
 
 tt2 
 
 ihere is cither round, cross-bar, or crape shot to be got : 
 none of your wishy washy landlubbers, and as we have 
 got a good Commander, let us stand to it and drub 
 their Trench Jackets ; I own, messmate Ahgus, that the 
 french officers fight well enough as you must remem- 
 ber; we were along side the Centaur, she pelted away 
 bloodily, but as for their common sailors, they are 
 such a set of ragamuffins, that, unship all my teeth, that 
 I riridy never shiver a biscuit again, it they are any more 
 "Worth the powder and shot that's thrown away upon 
 them, than the small birds in White-chapel-fields, and 
 about Lime-house-hole, but avast! here they come. 
 The commodore has clew'd up her sails and waits for 
 us. She's a bigsrer ship than we to be sure, and has 
 heavier metal. But what of that? a hot can but make 
 d hble ; and as for ourselves 'tis in vain flinching; for, 
 d'ye sfee, every shot has its commission, if it is not to 
 hit us why then it goes by you know; and if it is, if 
 we 'w^fere on the truck of the main-top-gallant-mast, or 
 dbwh in the light room, 'tis all one, 'twou'd come 
 there and give us a douse." To it they went. The 
 Frferich Commodore was beaten off, and his convoy, 
 twb East-Indiamen fell into their hands. Jack was 
 discharged at the peace, and came to wait for his 
 prize-money he waited for it indeed above three 
 years and never got it neither ; for being arrested for a 
 debt of seven pounds, which he cou'd never raise, he 
 was put into the Marshalsea, and there his poor honest 
 hfeart, tough as it was, was broke with ill usuage, and 
 he died, having one hundred and seventeen pounds 
 due to him, as prize-money, in the hands o^ an Agent. 
 
 Shews a 1 Here's an odd heart whose do you 
 black one. J think it is? Perhaps you take it to be 
 Satan's, no such thing, his heart is not quite so 
 bljtck. This is the heart of the agent, who had poor 
 Jack's prize-money. There is nothing like ill got 
 money, like defrauding the Poor, and with-holding 
 the due of the widow and orphan for blackening the 
 heart. This fellow was the joint issue of a country 
 
 attorney
 
 113 
 
 attorney, (who^fct all his neighbours together by the 
 ears, to get an honest living for himself,) and a travel- 
 ing gipsy, who told fortunes, cheated servant maids of 
 their rings and thimbles, and stole linen and poultry. 
 The boy inherited fraud from his mother, and deceit, 
 low cunning and hard-heartedness from his father. 
 With these qualifications he was put to a charity school, 
 where he learned to read, write, cast accounts and sing 
 psalms. At length he took the opportunity of his 
 mistress nodding over her brandy bottle, to pick her 
 pocket of 17s, and then set out for London, to make 
 jiis fortune with that immense sum. He at first got 
 to be boy at an ale-house, where he was very diligent 
 in observing who got drunk and fell asleep, on whom 
 he always rais'd contributions, 'till one fatal night, 
 mistaking his man, he was detected by Owen Cena- 
 doc, a welchman, who finding Tom's hand in his 
 pocket, cried, " Cod-bless hur and preserve hur! what 
 so young and a tief! to be sure, child, you will come 
 to the callows, if you do not leave off your efil ways in 
 time ; besides that is the least of the matter, for the 
 tevil will have you, and toss you about with ftery 
 pitch-forks, which will stick into you". Dear Sir! 
 (cries Tom) forgive me this time ; if T can but 'scape 
 the gallows here, let me alone with the devil and his 
 pitch-forks. The good natured Welchman took pity 
 on his youth, and to put him out of harm's way, sent 
 him aboard a man of war. 
 
 In this new station Tom behaved with great cunning 
 and circumspection; he wrote under the clerk and in 
 time was advanced totfie dignity and honour of waiting 
 on the Captain, who being killed in an engagement, 
 yom took care to secure what he cou'd find in his mas- 
 ter's scrutore. At the ship's going into port, he got his 
 discharge, and came to London, where he became 
 clerk to an Old Bailey solicitor, which no doubtgreat- 
 ly improved his morals. He then married tlie bar- 
 keeper of a neighbouring tavern, who complimented 
 him with a son five months after their marriage. The 
 vintner stood god-father, and was a very good friend 
 
 H to
 
 114 
 
 p them both. His wife proved a very good wiffTy 
 and being tolerably handsome, so exerted herself in tier 
 husband's interest, that he was appointed clerk to a 
 capital ship. There he improved his talents and his 
 jnoney, and whenever she was soinc^ into port to be 
 paid, very generously lent the sailors a guinea a piece 
 to receive only five and twenty shillings at the pay 
 table. Having thus procured money, he therewith 
 bought friends, and at last set up as an Agent. In this 
 station he cheated all who had any concerns with him, 
 and fatten'd on the cries of the distress'd ; 'till he broke 
 his heart at reading in the news-papers, that an Act 
 wou'd be passed for regulating Agents for prize-money, 
 and make them account for what they have received. 
 Happy ^ it for us that few such Agents are now left. 
 
 Shews a white t The last heart was blacky but thfs 
 heart. J is a w//ii/(? hear t. This isthe h.cart 
 
 oi z coward, the most despicable of all characters. The 
 owner of this heart was To7n Bubblefool, a bully, who 
 usurped an uniform, wore a long sword, and fiercely 
 ccck'd-hat, and cali'd him.self Captain. He was one 
 of the worthy fraternity of sharpers, a constant attend- 
 ant on billiard tables, and plcy'd all the game at back- 
 gammon. He was a curious observer of faces, and 
 wherever he saw any outward marks of weakness and 
 timidity, wherever he found a young bubble just come 
 to his estate, who was possessed of more money than v.it, 
 and more land than brains, he introduced himself into 
 his company, and by a dext'rous shuffle of the cards, or 
 an artful cog of the dye, eased him of his superfluous 
 wealth ; if the deluded youth seem'd to doubt the 
 fairness of his play, the strength of his voice, and the 
 ]ength of his sword, were often effectual to stifle all conl- 
 plaints. He was also a great hero among the unhappy 
 defenceless women of the town, being mean enough to 
 disgrace manhood by partaking of the wages of their 
 iniquity : O he was a brave fellow, for he cou'd bully 
 a parson, and lift up his loot against a petticoat, 'till at 
 last he died of affright, at seeing the mistress of an ale- 
 house, where he sconced a v^elcli-rabbit and a pint of 
 ~ two-
 
 115 
 
 fwo-penny, take up the kitchen poker to otlige him to 
 pay his reckoning. 
 
 Shews a florid -> This was the heart of a real Cap' 
 red heart. j tain, couraore and honour were its 
 chief inhabitants; and humanity Tthe constant com- 
 panion of true bravery) there had her throne. He 
 was above eating the bread of idleness, and never got 
 removed when liis rejriment was sent on service, nor 
 ever fell sick on the eve of a battle. He was just and 
 generous to his men, and they obey'd him thro' love. 
 In Action he seem'd to be inform'd with the spirit of a 
 lion ; but the battle once over, he had the meekness 
 of the lamb. He scorn'd to attempt the ruin of that sex 
 which the brave -shou'd ever defend; or to be the 
 terror of a set of affrighted \vaiters or feebfl watch- 
 men After he had been rais'd from an Ensign, by 
 his merit alone, to the command of a company, there 
 he stuck ; for three subalterns, whose friends cou'd 
 each raise a dozen votes at an election, the son of a 
 commissary, and a noblemam's but'er, being put over 
 his head, he generously resfgn'd his commission (tho' 
 not 'till the end of the war) and retired upon ill-paid 
 half-pay to a cheap county, where he died without 
 leaving even his tailors bill unpaid. 
 
 Shews a small - This is a light heart, the heart of 
 heart. / a gay spark; one who knew life, 
 
 he ruin'd his health, lost his reputation, spent his for- 
 tune, and perverted his morals, by seeing life. What 
 a pity! This youth had real good parts; he despised 
 in his heart the harlots who deceived him, he detested 
 the sharpers he herded with, he loathed the insipid 
 brutal pleasures of a midnight revel ; and his soul 
 shudder'd at the impieties and blasphemies he outward- 
 ly seem'd to approve. Yet he went on, in despite of 
 the humanity he strove to stifle, and the checks of his 
 conscience, which he drown'd in Wine, 'till he died 
 of old age and a broken constitution before he had 
 counted twenty four years, and left behind him the 
 f mpty praise of being a goodnatured fellow. 
 
 Shewing
 
 ii6 
 
 Shewing a green \ This cankered heart be- 
 heart, with ears to it./ longed to an Usurer, a 20 
 per-cent scoundrel, who lock'd up his gold 'till it was 
 cankered as his heart. We have exhibited that part of 
 this heart, which is vulgarly ^call'd the deaf ears. 
 They were truly so with him, for he never was guilty 
 of the least tenderness, but constantly deaf to every 
 sound, but those of Interest, premium, diseount cent per 
 cent and prompt payment. His house was furnished 
 with presents for forbearance, and his bread and meat 
 came ^ra//f from the butcher and baker, over whose 
 heads he held the undischarged Bond. At home he 
 abhorred gluttony and drunkenness, and never was 
 guilty of either, unless at another person's table, 
 where he got it free cost; then indeed, no member of 
 Comus's court drank more, nor luxurious gownmerf 
 fed more hearty. Yet this fellow in the change-alley 
 language was called a good man. A young man 
 came to him and being shown into the parlour, the old 
 man said, ' Well, Sir, do you come to lend or to bor- 
 tow?" ** Sir, replied the youth, I v/ant a little money 
 on the reversion of my estate after the death of my 
 father, who is seventy one." Oh ! if you only come 
 to borrow, we can talk of that by one candle: (Puts 
 one out) times are very hard, and since so much tallow 
 5s used for hard soap, candles are at a most enormous 
 price ; Oh young man ! times are very hard and money 
 very scarce,' your father may live a many years, and 
 you may die soon, (you must ensure your life and 
 lodge the policy in my hands) youth is no security 
 against death ; let me see if you look hearty. Most of 
 you young fellows now-a-days are rotten before you 
 iare ripe, pretty well, (looking thro' spectacles at him) 
 :I can lend you the money upon your reversion it is very 
 true, but I have no running cash, I must sell out 
 stocks are very low 3 per cents, fetch only 83 and 
 -|ths. a great loss you must be at that expence I can't 
 afford it I have lost a great deal of money by being 
 good-natured and lending if out. Why there was last 
 week, r was taken in for three hundred pounds that I 
 ient to Peter Needy 17 years ago at 7 percent 'Tis 
 
 true
 
 117 
 
 true the interest was regularly paid and now and then 
 a guinea for forbearance, but the fellow died last week, 
 and I have lost all the principle. But still I will let vou 
 have the money on the terms I told you of." This 
 poor man's misfortunes were very great: One fatal 
 morning, the rats finding nothing in his cupboard to eat, 
 devoured three bonds, and a bill of sale, and the same 
 day his maid swore a child to him. This quite de- 
 stroy'd his reason, and the next morning poor Issacker 
 Barebones was found hansiing at the tester of his bed. 
 
 Shews a heart-* This heart labelled with the names 
 labelled, j of the most eminent philosophers, 
 once belonged to the Reverend Dr. Matthew Musty, 
 fellow of a college in one of our universities. There 
 he remained for four and forty years, and dogmatically 
 truded his opinion on every man who was not quite of 
 $0 longstandingin the place. Hisideaswerecontracted, 
 and his knowledge totally confined to books: for he was 
 as ignorant of the ways of mankind as if he alone occu- 
 pied the whole globe, fie knew the policy oi Athens, 
 Sparta and Rome; but rot of his own country, of 
 which he wou'd not have remembered the name of 
 the reigning king, had he not been 'reminded of it at 
 church, and by drinking his health on a scarlet gowTt- 
 Day. He cou'd tell you the exact breadth of the rivers, 
 Simois and Scaraander, tho' he knew not that of the 
 Thames,* and was better acquainted with the number 
 of Stadia between Corinth and Lacedemon, than the 
 ftiiles between London and York. His language was 
 latin Anglified, and he scorned to condescend to the 
 capacities of the illiterate. One day standing at the 
 door of his college, he was accosted by a porter, who 
 ask'd him where he might find Mr. Freshman, a fellow 
 commoner of 4hat college? to whom he gravely an- 
 swer'd, ** Friend, thou must crucijie the quadrangle, 
 and ascend those grades^ and thou wilt find him pet' 
 ambulating in his cubile, near to the fenestra." The 
 astonish'djporter caught the last word, and submissively 
 denoanded, where abouts fenestra was? to whom Dr. 
 Musty graciously replied, *' I find that thou art igno- 
 rant,-
 
 ii8 
 
 fant, that IS, one of the illiteraiif but I will instruct thee. 
 Know then that the fenestra is the diaphanous part of 
 the edifice raised for the introduction of illumination." 
 The porter despairing of findinor Mr. Freshman from 
 the very clear directions of the Doctor, applied to one 
 of the servitors who was not quite so learned. This 
 learned Doctor having dreamed over his books, got 
 drunk with college ale, smoaked nine pipes a day, and 
 signalized himself by proving (in no more, than seven 
 volumes in folio) that all the hounds in Diana's pack 
 Were Bitches; he broke his heart because he cou'd 
 not find one bookseller who wou'd undertake the 
 impression of that erudite performance. 
 
 Shews a heart trans-\ This heart transfixed with 
 fix;cd with pens. S two pens, the badges of his 
 ]irofesaion, wasonce in the breast of Mr. Laurence Lati- 
 tat, attorney of chancery-lane. He was a keen man 
 knew all the law, and understood every loop-hole there- 
 of; but why need I describe him, when the salutary ad- 
 vice he gave to a young fellow, that was put as a clerk to 
 him., will best shew his qualifications. Taking the 
 yputh one day into his study, and making him sit down^ 
 * young man (said he) I have an extreme regard for 
 your family; I love your father as well as I do a fat 
 Cause ; and for his sake I will endeavour to make you 
 mas'.er of your business. Mind therefore what I say 
 to you; and profit by my council. The first thing 
 necessary in our profession is to have a bailiff, a few 
 witnesses, and a clerk in court, at your disposal; with 
 these strings to your bow, you may undertake any 
 tjjing, and risque every thing. In all professions there 
 ^r^ ceitnin rigid people^ who make a point of doing 
 their duty, and boggle at the smallest proposal. Never 
 have any thing to do with such folks ; they are a par- 
 cel of biutes who are good for nothing. But then, 
 there are, happily, a greater number of good naiured 
 m^n,. whom want or avarice render sociable, and who 
 will do any thing for money. It is upon their poverty 
 or covetousness that clever attorneys found their suc- 
 cess in, all difficult cases; foe an attorney who does 
 
 nothings
 
 119 
 
 nothing but what is regular and in strict form, will 
 seldom keep his coach. But if you will copy after me, 
 I will lay Ruffhed's edition of the statutes at large to a 
 halfpenny dying speech, that in ten years after you are 
 out of your clerkship, you shall have ruined forty 
 families, and have acquired the fee simples of ten good 
 farms in Comitalu Middlesex. I perceive young man 
 you have a natural love for money, and act therefore 
 half an attorney already ; but to get to the head of your 
 profession in a short time, you must be hard and pityless, 
 especially to those pigeons who are worth plucking. 
 Never engage in a cause but where either the plaintiff 
 or the defendant have the bona notahilia. Never a<rree 
 to any arbitration or compromise if you can possibly 
 iavoid it. Study delay, and always strive that a cause 
 tnay grow grey headed in your office, before it comes to 
 a final conclusion." ,;,,.., , 
 
 This honest man met with a thoii tragical end, in a 
 most comical manner; for going one day with a land- 
 lord to make a seizure, an old woman of the house ran 
 aspit into that fatal part where More of More-hall gave 
 the Dragon of Wantley his death's wound, and he 
 died in consequence of ih^ii forcible Entry. 
 
 THE TRUE BORN ENGLISHMAN; 
 
 O R, 
 
 RIGHTS OF MAN IN A RIGHT LIGHT, 
 txivo BY Mr. Meadows, theatre, whitby. 
 (^Meadows. ^ 
 Tune- --Bow Wow. 
 
 P . 
 
 V>OME neighbours, friends and countrymen, and 
 
 listen to my story, 
 An English Bull-dog here am I; and come to bark 
 before ye, 
 
 A blunt
 
 I20 
 
 A blunt and surly cur I am, discerning wrong from 
 
 right, Sir, 
 Disinterested, for I always, bark, before I bite, Sir. 
 
 Bow Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 Why what a plaguy pother's made, about the Con- 
 stitution, 
 
 The Rights of Man, Tom Paine, and a counter Revo- 
 lution, 
 
 As if that Loyal Britons did not know without direct- 
 ing. 
 
 Their Freedom and their native rights and when they 
 want protecting. 
 
 Bow Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 Why have not we the privilege of getting all we can. 
 
 Sirs, 
 Both lords and lacqueys, poets, players and coblers to 
 
 a man. Sirs, 
 From chancellors to chimney-sweepers in their several 
 
 states. Sirs, 
 Don't every true born Briton think himself a king so 
 
 great, Sirs. 
 
 !6ow Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 The Jolly Tar, returnmg home, meets every social 
 pleasure. 
 
 Enjoys his friend, his can, his lass, and spends his well 
 earn'd treasure. 
 
 The Soldier gets his king's esteem, the Invalid a pen- 
 sion, 
 
 Each husband gets a wife, and sometimes (more*) 
 that I could mention. 
 
 Bow Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 (Horns.) 
 
 The
 
 ir 
 
 The politician gets a seat, tho' void of any great sense. 
 
 The parson gets the tythe pig, the lawyer six an<J 
 eight-pence, 
 
 The thief enjoys a halter, what his life for years pre- 
 sages. 
 
 And Saturday night comes once a week, with every 
 poor man's wages. 
 
 Bow Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 Our rights in charter well we know, mechanics, 
 princes, traders. 
 
 Is to protect our property from levellers and in- 
 vaders, 
 
 Oifr lives to guard, and then in wars, when e'er our 
 foes crAte'em, 
 
 We jointly take the cudgels, and with blows prepare 
 to meet' em, 
 
 IBfOYT Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 Since loyalty then reigns so firm ; its blessings evec 
 
 sing. Sir, 
 While Englishmen with one accord, thus hail .their 
 
 Sovereign King, Sir, u\i'rt'/sr 
 
 Huzza him o'er the flowing bowl, nay miore letno^ 
 
 thin^ part ye, 
 "Till rouncf you've drank confusion to the Deinocratic 
 
 Party, 
 
 Bow Wow Wow, &c.' 
 
 Permit your most obedient, humbly now to take his 
 
 leave. Sir, 
 And hoping I've offended none, by barking as I have, 
 ;:i Sir, :,,- .;,.,..;, 
 
 For a Loyal Dog T am, and such I think will ne'er 
 
 disgrace me, ^' -1 ^ '. 
 
 Jf any one objects it here, why boldly let hfm face me. 
 
 Bow Wow Wow, &c. 
 
 FAT
 
 o 
 
 122 
 
 FAT DOLLY THE COOK. (Cawdell.j 
 
 H lovely Dolly fat and sleek, wUeij standing by 
 the fire. 
 Her shining neck and greasy cheek, inflam'd my fond 
 
 desire. 
 But when the kitchen fire she stir'd, she scorch'd my 
 
 very liver. 
 And as the mutton turn'd, I burn'd; we roasted both 
 -together, 
 
 ' ' Tol lol Id, &c. 
 
 How often have I sigh'd and pin'd to see her make a 
 
 pudding. 
 To see her put the spice and wine and dther matters 
 
 good in. 
 But when the plumbs she pick'd so svteet, poor I was 
 
 sure to rue it. 
 And as the mutton fat she skin'd, I curst the plumbs 
 
 and suet, 
 
 Tol iol lol, &c. 
 
 No partridge, pheasant, cock or hare, could come 
 
 within the larder, 
 But little I was suj-e to share, '^w^f, |lt^li i^adfi jpae i- 
 
 gard her, -'' ^'^" ,- -.Iwj 
 
 And then a sop in the pan so swe^'t~s6 nice--"s6 brown 
 
 and savoury. 
 That tho' my master got the meat-'twas /got all the 
 
 ^"^^^^^ Tol Iol lol, &c. 
 
 A fire she's made within my breast, without the help 
 of fuel, , . 
 
 A Calves-head on my shoulder's plac d, my soul is 
 
 water gruel, 
 Wou'd but Pythagoras set me free, from a lite ot me- 
 
 A litSrturnspit dog I'd be, and turn the wheel foi 
 ^"y - Tollollol,&c;
 
 IS3 
 AN OLD CHAPTER OF PLAYERS. 
 
 O. 
 
 'LD Shakespeare taught us long ago. 
 From Infancy to Age, 
 That all mankind were Players, y 
 
 And that all the World's a Stage ; . 
 
 And a playing, &c. 
 
 Some people will in earnest pfay. 
 
 While others play in jest, 
 Some few will play a double part. 
 
 Fair play is always best ; 
 
 And a playing, &. 
 
 The heedless man who goes io law. 
 
 Oft plays with an edge tool, 
 For while the lawyer plays the knave, 
 
 His client plays the fool ; 
 
 And a playing, &c.' 
 
 Young soldiers play the hero's parf, '(' 
 
 And talk of damn'd hard duty, siq in // 
 
 Old statesmen bqast economy. 
 But all the while play booty ; 
 
 And a playing^ Sec,' 
 
 The wife will sometimes play the truaip^t, ,; jyg 
 
 The husband play the grub,, ?: 
 
 The scrub wiU play the gentleman. 
 The gentleman the scrub ; 
 
 And a playing, .$ff. 
 
 The borrower oft playg to6'roo&ej, 
 
 The lerjder plays too tight. 
 The creditor would fain play sure. 
 The debtor least in sight; 
 
 A nd a playing, &c. 
 
 Good
 
 Good lord ! how folks mistake their parts. 
 
 By taking that for this, 
 For little Miss will play Mamma, 
 
 And fat Mamma play Miss ; 
 
 And a playing, &c. 
 
 If Miss the matron plays too soon. 
 
 What then it's quite in vogue. 
 Is nymph or swain to blame poor things 
 
 They only play'd the rogue ; 
 
 And a playing, &c. 
 
 The prude will play the hypocrite. 
 
 The wanton the coquette. 
 Old maids must play a solo part. 
 
 Brisk widows a duett ; 
 
 And a playing, &c. 
 
 The fribble plays the monkey's part. 
 
 While full of roar and revel. 
 Your bucks and bloods and jolly dogs. 
 
 Will play the very devil ^ 
 
 And a playing, &c. 
 
 The scolding wife plays hell on earth. 
 
 And storms and raves and teazes. 
 But a sweet good natured wife will play. 
 
 What part her husband pleases; 
 
 And a playing, &c. 
 
 When all these trifling scenes are past. 
 
 And life's last act is o'er. 
 When death does let the curtain drop. 
 
 And we can play no more ; 
 
 No more playing &c. 
 
 And.
 
 125 
 
 And who played beggar, who play'd king, 
 
 Will not be then the test, 
 The only question then will be. 
 Who play'd his part the best ; 
 
 When a playing they did go did go did go- 
 When a playing they did go. 
 
 ADDRESS 
 IN CHARACTER OF TIME. 
 
 B> 
 
 >EHOLD a form whose all destructive hand. 
 Has slain more millions than the warrior band. 
 Towers, castles, cities, spires, in vain arise. 
 And proudly emulous insult the skies. 
 Beauty, wit, valour, majesty and power. 
 Shrink at my touch as beings of an hour ; 
 Forms I destroy, but in return they claim. 
 What I but seldom give that nothing Fame. 
 By maids grown old I'mspurn'd and trod upon, ^ 
 And courted by the heir 'till twenty one, I 
 
 Then I may wait not I I stay for none. J 
 
 The virgin anxious for the nuptial life. 
 Begs me to move 'till when? 'till made a wife, 
 Tir'd of her spouse, she bids me still go on. 
 And begs me to destroy the fated drone; 
 A widow next, how slow old time proceeds ! 
 No comforter can see her, in her weeds; 
 The tedious monster halt'till what ? 'till when ? 
 She wipes no tears away and weds again ; 
 Wretches condemn'd, will swear I seem to fly. 
 And hasten on, the joyless hour to die; 
 Ladies and beaus, disdain the nauseous fright, 
 And swear I make'em ugly out of spite; 
 Wrinkles I give but who this truth denies? 
 Time and experience often qnake you wise; 
 Experience ! says a wit- why on my lite ! 
 That silly hag, must be the monster's wife; 
 - '. Can
 
 is6 
 
 Can he require a wife? yes, by the bye 
 
 Some have been wed'd almost as old as I ; 
 
 Yet youth elate, and beauty in its prime. 
 
 Fear death nor pain, no enemy but time; 
 
 Tho' sometimes I restore the captive frte. 
 
 And give the woe torn mind tranquility, 
 
 I chear the mourner, and relieve the slave. 
 
 And shed eternal laurels o'er the brave ; 
 
 Ladies this emblematic glass and scythe, 
 
 JEnough to frighten any soul alive ; 
 
 You say, perhaps, it's time I shou'd depart, 
 
 A modest hint! I like it from my heart; (going) 
 
 But hold, I've done what I ne'er did before, 
 
 !Return'd, good folks, to tell you something more ; 
 
 Time whose proud rove disdains to be confin'd, 
 
 Brings endless pleasures to the guiltless mind. 
 
 Gay move the nours along the sportive scene. 
 
 The heart unclouded and the breast serene> 
 
 Nor shall the soul-elating joy be o'er. 
 
 When pain, and death, and time shall be no more ; 
 
 Methinks by this 'tis time J venture in. 
 
 At least 'tis time bur players shoud begin ; 
 
 But first suppose I condescend to bow ? 
 
 ^hus he who levels all, submits to you. 
 
 MISS BAILEY; 
 
 (with additions. J 
 
 ^VNG BY Mr. Davis, ik the farce of love lauobs 
 
 AT LOCK-SMITHS. 
 
 A 
 
 Captain bold in Hallifax, who dwelt in country 
 quarters, 
 Seduc'd a maid, who hafig'd herself one morning in 
 her garters, 
 
 His
 
 I7 
 
 His wicked conscience- smited hini, he lost his stomaclj 
 
 daily. 
 He took to drinking common gin, and thought upoii 
 Miss Bailey; 
 
 Oh Miss Bailey ! unfortunate Miss Bailey ! 
 
 Unfortunate Miss Bailey ! 
 
 One night betimes he went to bed, for he had caught 
 
 a fever, 
 Says he I am a handsome man, but I'm a gay deceiver. 
 His candle just at twelve o'clock, began to burn quite 
 
 palely, 
 A Ghost slept up to his bedside, and said behold Miss 
 
 Bailey. 
 
 Avaunt Miss Bailey then he cried, your face looks 
 
 white and mealy, 
 Dear Captain Smith the ghost replied, you've used me 
 
 ungenteeley. 
 The crowner's quest goes hard with me, because I've 
 
 acted fraily. 
 And Parson Biggs wont bury me, the' I am dead Miss 
 
 Bailey. 
 
 Dear ghost, says he, 'since you and I, accounts must 
 
 once for all close, 
 I've got a one pound note in my regimental small 
 
 cloths, 
 *Twill bribe the sexton for your grave, the ghost thea 
 
 vanish'd gaily, 
 Crying bless you wicked Captain Smith, remember 
 
 poor Miss Bailey. 
 
 Next morn his man rapt at his door, he cried, oh John, 
 
 come dress me. 
 Miss Bailey's ^o't my one pound note, cried John, good 
 
 heaven bless me, 
 
 I would
 
 128 
 
 I would not mind if she had ta'en no more than all 
 
 your riches. 
 But with your one pound, by gad, she's stole your lea- 
 ther breeches ; 
 
 Oh Miss Bailey ! that wicked ghost Miss Bailey ! 
 that wicked ghost Miss Bailey. 
 
 t'OUR-AND-TWENTY PERRIWIGS. 
 
 SUNG BY Mr. EnwiN. 
 
 TT - ^ 
 
 X. OUR-and-twenty perriwigs all on a row, 
 
 Four-and-twenty perriwigs all on a row, 
 
 There were tye-wigs, wry wigs, powder and pomatum, 
 
 Pri? away to make 'em gay. 
 
 And look so proud, among the croud, down below. 
 
 Because it was my Lord Mayor's show, ' 
 
 Therefore let us be merry. ' o.'^i 
 
 Four-and-twenly philosophers all on a row, there 
 was peeping at the moon, in the afternoon, to find 
 out tye wigs, wry wigs, &c. 
 
 Four-and-twenty maidens all on a row, there was 
 my sweetheart will be here to-night, peeping at the 
 moon &c. ' i 
 
 Four-and-twenty watchmen all on a row, there was 
 past ten o'clock, my sweetheart will be here to-night, 
 peeping at the moon, &c. 
 
 Four-and-twenty gormondizers all on a row, there 
 was Alderman Swallow-pudding on the right hand, 
 and Deputy Marrow-fat on the left, tliere was give 
 me a clean plate, hob nob, more green fat, and there 
 Ihey were at it till past ten o'clock, &c. 
 
 Four
 
 129 
 
 Four-and-twenty turtles all on a row, there Was 
 odds fish, what the d I shall we do, what will become 
 of they and f and you, for there'sAlderman Swallow- 
 pudding, &c. 
 
 Four-and-twenty actresses all on a row, there was, 
 how do you like your part, ma'am ? I'm quite pleas'd 
 with mine ; but then if the piece should be da ed ; 
 odds fish, what the, &c. 
 
 Four-and-twenty boxers all on a row, there was 
 squaring and sparring, knock down blows and stopping 
 well, queering his peepers and letting the day-light in- 
 to his skull, upon a stage 24 feet square ,* how do you 
 like your part ? &c. 
 
 Four-and-twenty Israelites all on a row, there was, 
 I can't eat any more pork, it makes me sick, any old 
 cloaths to sell, shoes, hats, or old wigs ;t there was 
 squaring and sparring, knock down blows and stopping 
 well, queering his peepers, and letting the day-light 
 into his skull, upon a stage 24 feet square ; how do you 
 like your part, ma'am ; I'm quite pleas'd with mine, 
 but then if the piece should be da ned ; odds fish, 
 what the d 1 shall we do, what will become of they 
 and I and you; for there's Alderman Swallow pud- 
 ding on the right hand, and Deputy Marrow Fat on 
 the left, and there was, give me a clean plate, hob nob, 
 more green fat, and there they were at it till past ten 
 o'clock ; my sweetheart will be here to-night ; peep- 
 ing at the moon, in the afternoon, to find out; tye 
 wigs, wry wigs, powder and pomatum, friz away, to 
 make 'em gay, and look so proud among the crowd, 
 down below, because it is my Lord Mayor's show, 
 therefore let us be merry. 
 
 THE
 
 ISO 
 THE CHAPTER OF FASHIONS. 
 (T. Dibdin.) 
 Tune, " Chapter of Kings." 
 
 X. ASHION was form'd when the world began. 
 And Adam I'm told was a very smart man. 
 As for Eve I shall say nothing more nor less, 
 But that ladies of fashion now copy her dress ; 
 
 Sobarring ail pother,.of this, that, or t'other, 
 
 We all bow to fashion in turn. 
 
 The fashion next came to hunting poor brutes. 
 And Nimrod invented the fashion of boots. 
 For he was a buck tho' he hadn't a wife. 
 And never saw Bond-street perhaps in his life ; 
 
 But barring all pother, &c. 
 
 Our barons of old wore comical cloaths. 
 
 And their shoes were square toed, yellow worsted their 
 
 hose. 
 Your Henry's and Edward's, were famous for dress. 
 But ale and beef-stakes were the fashion with Bess, 
 , So barring all pother, &c. 
 
 In the reign of King Charles, you distinguish'd a prig. 
 By the length of his cane, and the size of his wig, 
 Cromwell's hats were all broad, and liis head it was 
 
 round. 
 And his hair hung like candles, sixteen to the pound; 
 
 But barring all pother, &c. 
 
 The tories wore lo'igs, in the reign of Queen Anne, 
 Now wigs suit the female, as well as the man. 
 No cropSy but in corn fields, you'd formerly meet. 
 Now theie's few in the fields, and enough in the street; 
 
 So barring all pother, &c. 
 
 However
 
 However, the fashions are subject to change. 
 One fashion remains if it didn't 'twere strange 
 'Twas always the fashion, each Englishman knows> 
 To be true to our King, and to humble our foes; 
 
 But barring all pother, &c. 
 
 . .' ' '^''^' ' 
 
 Now fashion's arrived at a wonderful height. 
 
 For what's borish at noon, is quite stilish at night. 
 
 So they bore ye with stile, and they stile you a bore ; 
 
 As perhaps you may ^me, if I sing any more ; 
 
 So without any pother, of this, that, or 'tother, 
 
 I'll e'en take my leave and begone. 
 
 B> 
 
 b t D N I C k 
 
 AND HIS 
 
 BRORHER THE EMPEROR ; (J. Hall. ) 
 A new Comic Song. 
 Tune, " Good Queen Bess." 
 
 BRITANNIA'S son's, I pray attend, come listen 
 to my story, 
 And circumstances dark and strong, with truth I'll lay 
 
 before ye, 
 Relating to that CoAicariy headlong tyranizer. 
 Who 'till he gets what he deserves, will ne'er be any 
 wiser; 
 'Till taught by you, Britannia's sons, who ever 
 
 staunch and hearty, 
 May face the devil, and defy his brother Buonaparte^ 
 
 The french republicans, they slew their king to gain 
 
 their freedom, 
 And since that horrid deed was done the devil seems to 
 
 lead'em, / 
 
 Fair
 
 Fair freedom heretofore was found, in France with 
 
 partiality, 
 But Bonny chains down all alike, and surely that's 
 
 equality. 
 
 'Till taught, &c. 
 
 Could he his end accomplish but thus Bonny would 
 
 prevail, Sir, ' "* 
 
 A second Alexander he, but on a larj^er scale. Sir, 
 His principle's ambition, all the world to inthrall, Sir, 
 Which we find to be grounded, on no principle at all. 
 
 Sir. 
 
 'Till taught, &c. 
 
 He's play'd his hellish tricks around his wretched 
 neighbouring nations, 
 
 Who once were bless'd, but now thro' him, may 
 curse their situations. 
 
 But his career is rather stopt, by one tight little king- 
 dom. 
 
 That dare presume to see the day, his consequence^to | 
 
 bringdown. * ^ 
 
 'Till taught, &c. 
 
 Says Bonny to his trembling slaves, you know that 
 
 war our trade is. 
 To plunder and get riches, yea and all the finest 
 
 ladies. 
 And for the purpose you will find, proud England most 
 
 befitting. 
 That's true indeed, quoth Jonny Bull, but pray how 
 
 will you get in. 
 
 "Till taught, &c. 
 
 To tie a bell about the cat, a mouse in council broaches. 
 To tinkle them upon ther guard, when tabby puss 
 
 approaches, 
 Quoth one sage mouse, I own the scheme conducive 
 
 to our wellfare. 
 But tell me pray who'll undertake, to go and tie the 
 bell there. 
 
 'Till taught, &c. 
 With
 
 I3S 
 
 With all the gun-boats they've in hand, and every 
 preparation. 
 
 Suppose them now so far compleat, as on the embark- 
 ation. 
 
 Let them upon the ocean launch, and meet with John 
 Bull's navy. 
 
 Then they must a pop visit pay, respectful to old davy. 
 
 'Till tau'ght, &c. 
 
 Suppose now on Britannia's coast, two hundred thou- 
 sand landed, 
 
 And by great Buonaparte himself, the poor rogues 
 were commanded. 
 
 The undertaking it would prove, this Bonny but a 
 younker. 
 
 For to their sorrow they would find, they'd English- 
 men to conquer. 
 
 'Till taught, &c. 
 
 While we possess the spirit bold, that made our fathers 
 
 ' glorious. 
 The world against us may combine, and still we'll 
 
 prove victorious, 
 While we maintain our sacred rights, laws, king and 
 
 constitution. 
 Our consequence as English-men, shall ne'er meet 
 dissolution. 
 
 'Till taught, &c. 
 
 Let's drink success to all our forces, both by sea and 
 
 land, Sir, 
 May truth and justice smiling go before them hand 
 
 in hand. Sir, 
 That long we may protect those rights, from which 
 
 our blessings spring, Sir, 
 And live with joy to bless great George, our Sovereign 
 Lord the Kmg, Sir, 
 And ever may Britannia's sons, with glee and rapture 
 
 sing, Sirs, 
 <* Rule Britannia" and god bless, our Sovereign Lord 
 the King, Sir. 
 
 THE
 
 JHE EFFUSIONS OF FANCY; 
 
 O R, 
 
 'TIS BUT A DREAM; 
 A HUMOROUS DRAMATIC VISION. 
 
 AS RECITED BY Mr. MeADOWS, THEATRE, WHITBY.. 
 
 X IR'D with the tedious service of the stage, 
 The wrongs of Lear a-nd Zanga's vengeful rage ; 
 Some friendly elbow-chair receiv'd my weight, -^ 
 "Where prop'd before the near exhausted grate, I 
 I clos'd my drowsy eyes, and snor'd in state. J 
 Methought I stood amidst a spacious court 
 Of antic shapes, a general resort. 
 Where high advanc'd, imperial Garrick sat. 
 In all the mockery of mimic state : 
 JHere rapg'd the fool, the pedant and the page, 
 jWith lisping infancy, and bearded age . . 
 
 ^ut passing vulgar times regardless by, 
 Towards the throne I cast a wond'ring eye ; 
 Where stood a matchless form, brimful of mirthi 
 {^or humour's God presided at his birth ]] 
 Of ample bulk, round paunch, and jocund face. 
 The first in excellence, as first in place ; 
 'And thus he cry'd *' Boy, bring a cup of sack 
 .** Plague on all cowards Go thy ways, old Jack. 
 ** Die when thou wilt, if courage be n't forgot, 
 *' Cramp this plump carcase in a gallipot ! 
 ** Well, soon or late, old Honesty must die 
 ** Come, sirrah, t'other cup, for sorrow's dry *. 
 
 Close to the pamper'd "knight, a fustian knave. 
 In phrase heroic loudly seem'd to ravtf ; 
 "Big were his looks,and stately was his stride, 
 j.ike dunghill cack, majestically wide. 
 
 iu.i H'-iJ"*'?':*;^"-' - . ' 
 
 *Sir John Falstaflf in Henry thf Fourth. 
 *' Base
 
 135 
 
 "** Base Phrygian Turk !" he thus began to rant, 
 
 "** Shall Pistol yield ? No,by the Gods, he sha'nt ! 
 
 ** First, crush, consume, my stout Herculean blade, 
 
 ** Bankrupt the fates, and cheat 'em of their trade* 
 
 The next, which neither male, nor female seem'd, 
 
 A very slip of nature might be deem'd ; 
 
 For woman's fear possess'd the soul of man. 
 
 And thus the dubious animal begati : 
 
 " How can you serve me so, you naughty creature ? 
 
 ** I vow, miss, you're the giddiest thing in nature, 
 
 ** Egad, you've flurried me to such a tune, 
 
 * That lud my drops, my drops, or I shall swoon. f 
 
 Rage, grief, distraction, pictur'd in his face. 
 
 Hear hobb'ling avarice unfold his case. 
 
 ** Rogues! rascals! thieves! I'm dead, I'm mur- 
 
 der'd, slain ! 
 ** My gold ! my gold ! give me my gold again 
 " What? Who? Where? When I'm into ma4-~ 
 
 ness hurl'd ; 
 " I'll hang, drown, burn myself, and all the worldt. 
 
 The next a fop ordain'd to shine a peer, \ 
 
 To move in vanity's exalted sphere, I 
 
 And with soft nonsense charm the female ear. J 
 Light were his heels, yet lighter was his head ; 
 And thus he spoke, while thus his nose he fed. 
 ** Gad's curse ! this qualitie's a charming thing, 
 ** O ! the delights of park, play, ball, and ring. 
 ** Your ladyship's slave my lard, I kiss your hand ; 
 ** Well, stap my vitals now, 'tis vastly grand. [J 
 
 Not far, with awkward mien, and shambling pace, "i 
 A genuine son of nature took his place, J- 
 
 The simple wit of some unletter'd race. J 
 
 Pistol, Henry Fourth. 
 tFribble,--Miss in her Teens. 
 
 jLovegold,--Miser. " 
 
 11 Lord Foppington, Relapse* 
 
 *' WcMt
 
 136 
 
 *' Weast heart ! he cry'd, I'm glad I've fun ye aut, 
 ** Laud ! measter, measter ! such a waundy rout ! 
 ' Some devil's prank or oother aw th* lung; day 
 ** Well ! marcy on us, whoam is whoam, I say.* 
 
 The next an honest tho' a formal fool, 
 
 Who spoke by method, and who laugh'd by rule. 
 
 Each step, each look was uniformly just. 
 
 And ev'ry step was measur'd by the first. 
 
 He! he! he! he! your honour has no par 
 
 *' You'll pardon me for being jocular ; 
 
 ** Albeit, there are three reasons good, therefore 
 
 ** First nature willeth stay let's shut the door.f 
 
 Not least in name, appear'd amidst the ring 
 
 The face of winter in the garb of spring; 
 
 Taste rul'd his head, and gallantry his heart ; 
 
 Age and disease possess'd each other part. 
 
 ** This cursed cough ! here Brush, the eau de luce, 
 
 '* So, pretty well Canton, you dog, what news? 
 
 *' Hey, by the lord, this girl, has made me new, 
 
 ** All powerful love can ever pain subdue, 
 
 < O curse that twinge ! the deuce, 'twill never do.^^ 
 
 $tarch'd was the next, and strait was every lock. 
 The simple shepherd of a simpler flock. 
 By cant misled, and vague, excentric Bawl, 
 He cries " I wants to preach, I've had a call, 
 * * We us,d to keep a shop, sell beer and gin, 
 *' But I don't know, I thinks it is a sin ; 
 '* So now I prays, and reads and prays again, 
 ** And they says, as how, I've turn'd my brain." 
 
 Here thro' the court a murm'ring laugh was heard. 
 When lo, a son of comic mirth appear'd : 
 Rous'd from the midnight slumbers of his bed. 
 One stocking grac'd his heel, and one his head. 
 
 John Moody, Provok'd Husband. 
 
 fVellum, Drummer. 
 
 jLord Ogleby, Clandestine Marriage. 
 
 ; '' *' Thieves!. 
 
 i
 
 3T 
 
 ' Thieves! murder! popery! loud roard the kaave, 
 ** O I dear Sir, take my lite, spare all I have: 
 ** Down on your marrow bones ! O Lord ! O Lord ! 
 *' Just five and forty, Sir, with fire and swp^d."* 
 
 The next a motley slave, whose sable face, 
 
 J3espoke a man of Afric's sooty race; 
 
 Beneath a pond'rous hamper seem'd oppress'd ; 
 
 And thus the loit'ring rogue himself address'd. 
 
 '^ Dam old massa, now ! curse him old head ! 
 
 * Send me one devil errand, till me dead; 
 
 ** Here, dere, up, down, by day, by night old dog, 
 
 *' He make me toily, like a mule, by gog."t 
 
 And now by phrensy forc'd, a ghost to follow. 
 Was seen a prince, a gentleman, and scholar ; 
 Whose filial duty wrought his troubl'd mind. 
 His father's foe and murderer to find. 
 The players ready urg'd by his direction, 
 Hold forth the bane of woman's disaffection. 
 A father kiU'd ; what son this act can pardon ? 
 His name Gonzago ^murder'd in the Garden. 
 
 " Let the stricken deer go weep, 
 
 ** The hart ungall'd go play ; 
 " Some will watch while^others sleep ; 
 
 " So runs the world away."t 
 
 Thus far mine eye receiv'd the mimic crowd 
 
 When, lo ! the nightly watchman bawling loud. 
 
 With wonted accent roar'd " past one o'clock," 
 
 That frighted fancy trembled at the shock ; './^ 
 
 The powerful sound upon my slumber broke, 
 
 I started, rub'd mine eyes and so awoke. 
 I 
 
 Scrub, Stratagem. 
 tMiingo, Padlock. 
 tHafnlct. 
 
 A MW
 
 IS8 
 
 A SEW COMIC BURLESQUE, POETIC, MOC-TERRIFIC TALE, 
 Selected and abridged from '* Colman's Broad Grins," called, 
 
 THE MAID OF THE MOOR; 
 
 O R, 
 
 hord Hoppei-gollops Cook-maid, and Gardener's Ghost. 
 (G. Caiman f Jun. Esq.) 
 
 AS RECITED BY Mr. MeADOWS, THEATRE, BEVERLEY. 
 
 o 
 
 N a wild moor all brown and bleak. 
 Where broods the heath frequenting grouse. 
 There stood a tenement antique. 
 Lord HoppergoUops country house; 
 Neglected mansion, for 'tis said. 
 Whene'er the snow came feathering down. 
 Four barbed steeds from the kings head. 
 Carried thy master up to town ; 
 Swift whirl'd the wheels, he's gone, a rose 
 JRemains behind, whoee virgin look. 
 Unseen, must blush in wintry snows. 
 Sweet beautious blossom, 'twas the Cook ; 
 A bolder far than my weak note, 
 Maid of the Moor, thy charms demand ; 
 els might be proud to loose their coat. 
 If skinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand ; 
 liong had the fair one sat alone. 
 Had none remain'd save only she. 
 She by herself had been, if one 
 Had not been left for company ; 
 'Twas a tall youth whose cheek's clear hue 
 Was tinged with health and manly toil. 
 Cabbage he sow'd, and when it grew. 
 He always cut it up to boil ; 
 A small mute favourite by day, 
 Follow'd his steps, where e'er he wheels 
 His barrow round the garden gay, 
 A Bobtail cur is at his heels ; 
 
 Hard
 
 Hard toil'd the youth so fresh and strongs 
 
 While Bobtail in his face would look. 
 
 And mark his master trill the song,'"- - ^'' ' 
 
 '* Sweet Molly Dumpling, O thou cook';" ' "^ 
 
 Ah not averse from love was she, '^. *^^ ^,V^ 
 
 Tho' pure as heaven's snowey flake. 
 
 Both iov'd, and tho' a Gardener he. 
 
 He knew not what it was to rake ; 
 
 Cold blows the blast, the night's obscure, 
 
 The mansion's crazy wainscots crack. 
 
 The sun had sunk; and all the moor. 
 
 Like every other moor was black ; 
 
 Alone, pale^ trembling, near the fire. 
 
 The lovely Molly Dumpling sat, 
 
 Afuch did she fear, and much admire. 
 
 What Thomas Gardener cou'd be at ; 
 
 Listening, her hand supports her chin. 
 
 But ah ! no foot is heard to stir, 
 
 He comes not from the garden iri. 
 
 Nor he, nor little Bobtail cur ; 
 
 She paces thro' the hall antique, 
 
 To call her Thomas from his toil. 
 
 Opens the huge door, the hinges creek. 
 
 Because the hinges wanted oil ; ' 
 
 Thrice on the threshold of the hall. 
 
 She ' Thomas" cried, with many a sob. 
 
 And thrice on Bobtail did she call, 
 
 Exclaiming sweetly, ** Bob, bob, bob ; " 
 
 Back thro' the hall she bent her way. 
 
 All all was solitude iaround. 
 
 The candle shed a feeble ray, 
 
 Tho' a large mould of four to th' pound : 
 
 Full closely to the fire she drew, 
 
 A down her cheek a salt tear stole. 
 
 When lo a coffin out their flew. 
 
 And in her apron burnt a hole ; 
 
 Spiders their busy death watch tick'd, 
 
 A certain sign that fate will frown. 
 
 The clumsy kitchen clock, chick'd, chick'd, 
 
 A certain sign it was not down ; 
 
 ' More
 
 140 
 
 More strong and strong her terrors rose. 
 
 Her shaddow did the maid appal. 
 
 She trembled at her lovely nose. 
 
 It look'd so long against the wall ; 
 
 Up to her chamber damp and cold, , 
 
 She climb'd Lord Hoppergollop's stair. 
 
 Three stories high, long, dull and old. 
 
 As great lord's stories often are ; 
 
 All nature now appeared to pause. 
 
 And o'er the one half world seem'd dead. 
 
 No curtain sleep had she because. 
 
 She had no curtains to her bed ; \ 
 
 Listening she lay with iron din, ' 
 
 The clock struck twelve, the door flew wide, 
 
 "When Thomas grimly slided in. 
 
 With little Bobtail by his side ; 
 
 Tall like the poplar was his size, J9f^[ t(juwJaiJ 
 
 Green, green his waistcoat was as leeks, .. .~ fj? j^g 
 
 Red, red as beet root were his eyes, ^^ Q]f| 
 
 And pale as turnips were his cheeks ; /:' 
 
 Soon as the spectre she espied. 
 
 The fear struck damsel faintly said. 
 
 What wou'd my Thomas, he replied. 
 
 Oh Molly Dumpling 1 am dead ! 
 
 AH in the flower of youth I fell, . ,, . , 
 
 Cut off with healthful blossom crown'd, smDftT '* .jHS 
 
 I was not ill but in a well, . . 
 
 I tumbi'd backwards and was drown'd; ': 
 
 Four fathom deep thy love doth lie. 
 
 His faithful dog his fate doth share, ,.^ 
 
 'W e' re fiends this is not he nor .1, ; hs^f, <>!bnfi-y arlT 
 
 We are not here, for we are there ; ; -" ' -."'' 
 
 Yes two foul water fiends are we. 
 
 Maid of the Moor, attend us now. 
 
 Thy hour's at hand we conhe for thee, 
 
 The little fiend cur said " bow wow;" 
 
 The fiends approach, the maid did shrink. 
 
 Swift thro' the night's foul air they spin. 
 
 They took her to the green well's brink. 
 
 And with a souce they plump'd her in;
 
 141 
 
 So true the tair, so true the youth, 
 
 Maids to this day their story tell. 
 
 And hence the proverb rose that truth, U 
 
 Lies in the bottom of a well. 
 
 ABRAHAM NEWLAND; 
 
 fVith additions and alterations, {by the Author.) 
 
 (C. T. Bibdin.) 
 AS suKG BY Mr. Meadows, theatkes, whitby, r 
 
 RIPON, &Ci 
 
 JL HERE ne'er was a name so bandied by fame. 
 Thro' air, thro' ocean and thro' land, 
 As one that is wrote, upon every bank note. 
 And you all must know Abraham Newland, , 
 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Notified Abraham Newland, 
 I've heard people say, sham Abraham you may; 
 But you must not sham Abraham. Newland. 
 
 For fashion or arts, should you seek foreign parts. 
 
 It matters not wherever you land, 
 
 Jew, Christianor Greek, the same language they speak. 
 
 That's the language of Abraharh Newland, 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Wonderful Abraham Newland, 
 
 Whatever you lack you will get in a cracky 
 
 By the credit of Abraham Newland. 
 
 But what do you think, without victuals or drink, 
 You may tramp like the wandering jew land. 
 From Turkey to Dover, nay all the world over. 
 If a stranger to Abraham Newland, 
 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Asronishing Abraham Newland, 
 
 Tho'
 
 Tho' with compliments cram'd you may die and bd 
 
 damn'd. 
 If you hav'n't an Abraham Newland. 
 
 .... ^ 
 
 The world is inclin'd, to think justice is blind, 
 
 Lawyers know very well, they can view land. 
 
 But lord what of that, why she'll blink like a bat. 
 
 At the sight of an Abraham Newland, 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Magical Abraham Newland, 
 
 Tho' justice 'tis known can see thro' a millstone. 
 
 She can't see thro' Abraham Newland. 
 
 The doctor comes next, for a share of my teXt, 
 
 If death threatens you to bring to land. 
 
 Whether you're sick or you are well, all disorders he'll 
 tell. 
 
 If you'll tip him an Abraham Newland, 
 Ah Abraham Newland, 
 Medicinal Abraham Newland, 
 
 "With lotions and pills, he will cure all your ills. 
 
 For a large dose of Abraham Newland. 
 
 Your patriots who bawl for the good of us all, 
 Kind souls here like mushrooms they strew land, 
 Tho' loud as a drum each proves orator murrif 
 If attack'd by stout Abraham Newland, 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Invincible Abraham Newlandf 
 No arguments found, in this world half so sound. 
 As the logic oi Abraham Newland. 
 
 If a maid of three score, or a dozen years more. 
 For a husband should chance to sigh thro* land, 
 I'm vastly afraid she would not die a maid. 
 If acquainted with Abraham Newland, 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Deluding Abraham Newland, 
 Tho* crooked and cross, she'd not be at a loss, 
 Thro' the friendship of Abraham Newland. 
 
 The
 
 MS 
 
 The French say they are coming, but ure they are 
 humming, 
 
 I know what they want if they do land, 
 
 We'll make their ears ring, in defence of our king. 
 
 Our country and Abraham Newland, 
 Oh Abraham Newland, 
 Darling Abraham Newland, 
 
 No tri-coloured elf, nor the devil himself, 
 
 Shall e'er rpb us of Abraham Newland. 
 
 Thus for Abraham's smiles, are all practising wiles. 
 And cheating and chattering thro' land, 
 'Till death he pops in with his comical grin. 
 And a night-cap for Abraham Newland, 
 - ' Oh Abraham Newland, 
 
 The bell tolls for Abraham Newland, 
 For when death he comes by, you know life's all my 
 
 eye. 
 So good night to friend Abraham Newland. 
 
 THE CAKE-MAN ; 
 
 O B, 
 
 ALL Mr EYE AND PEGGY MARTIN. 
 
 AS suNO BY Mr. Davis, theatres, ulverston, kekdai^^ 
 
 &c. 
 Tune,-- '< I made l6ve to Kate." 
 
 H 
 
 .ERE am I so gay, in hopes to make you merry. 
 Come buy my cakes so fine, encourage' little Jerry, 
 The world you will agree, of diflFerent things partakes. 
 We're all one family, and form'd like different cakes. 
 ^Spoken.) 
 To be sure we are, thete's your hot cakes, and your 
 cold cakes, your dry cakes, and your shy cakes, your 
 tea cakes, and your sea cakes, your bride cakes, and 
 
 you/
 
 44 - 
 ' - If 
 
 your burial cakes, for my part, I recommend every ol!6 
 
 of them 50 
 
 (sung.) 
 
 Buy my cakes so fine, they're genuine I'm certain, 
 But if the truth I tell. It's all my eye and Peggy Martin. 
 
 A wii he is a short-cake, and 'tis very clear. 
 If he lives by wit 'tis short enough I fear, , 
 A miser is a gripe-cake, surely you may trlist. 
 The best that we can say he's but a mouldy-crust, 
 
 (Spoken.) 
 
 I met a miser t'other day ** hark ye! fellow," says 
 he, " are your cakes made of the best flour ?" O yes, 
 Sir, says I, upon my honour " upon your honour, 
 you rascal! who the devil gave you any honour? when 
 i was in trade 1 never had any honour;" egad he had 
 me there, so I pocketed his cash and cried 
 
 (sung.) 
 
 Buy my cakes so fine, of this I'm sure and certain. 
 If you trust a miser's honour, it's all my eye and Peggy 
 Martin. 
 
 We may now compare, your bachelors to dry-cakes. 
 To lemon-cakes, old-maids, and your prudes, to shy^ 
 
 cakes, 
 A fop unto a gilt-cake, only made for shew. 
 Each pretty miss a bride-cake, would gladly have you 
 
 know. 
 
 (Spoken.) 
 
 Few young ladies, I believe, but what are fond of a 
 bride-cake, tho' they all say, " don't talk to me of a 
 husband, I hate the nasty men I'll never be married." 
 Not 'till somebody will have you Miss, says I so talce 
 my advice. 
 
 (sung.) 
 A bride-cake buy so nice, they're genuine I'm certain. 
 If you say, you hate the men, It's all my eye and 
 Peggy Martin. 
 
 A lover
 
 ^5 
 
 A lever is a heart-cake, softened by hhfair, 
 A beauty is a queen-cake, that drives him to despaii-j 
 Of species made so pat, a lawyer is a ban-cake. 
 His client is a flat, and therefore call'd sl pan-cake. 
 
 (Spoken.) 
 I don't know how it is, but the law atwdys liothersme* 
 it puts me in mind of a coffin, when once you're in, the 
 devil a bit can you get out again, so sooner thaa 
 meddle or make, 
 
 (sung.) 
 
 I cry my cakes so fine, of this I'm sure and certain. 
 If lawyers tell a tale, its all my eye and Peggy Martin. 
 
 A patriot h a teg^-cahe, moulded of the best, 
 A sailor s like his his-cake, that iono; will stand the tesf^ 
 A doctor is a worm-cake^ sure you will agree. 
 When once he gives the pill-cake, he pockets snug the 
 fee. 
 
 (Spoken, ) 
 
 A german doctor came to attend my wife when she 
 ^as dying, "ah!" says he " Dis is a very pad 
 country for de people's health ! de people do die so fast 
 in dis country." Doctor, says I, I should be very much 
 obliged to you if you would tell me the country where 
 people do not die. Egad I had him there 
 
 (SUNO.) 
 
 So, I cry my cakes so fine, my wife is dead I'm certain,," 
 But for me to grieve and pine, is all my eye and 
 Peggy Martm. 
 
 A player weW you know, will often prove a rum-cake^ 
 A husband now and then, will wish bis wife a dumb' 
 
 cake. 
 May every one that's here, always prove a sound-cake. 
 And never be in want, of Abra'm Newland's /)oni* 
 
 cake, 
 
 K {Spoken.)
 
 146 
 
 (Spoken.) 
 Srt yon see the vvorld'-s made up of cakes--- a beau'i 
 z sweet-cake a citizens a plumf>-cake?i bailiff's a 
 wry-cake and to make up the batch little Buona- 
 parte's a puff-cake, who, if ever he dare venture to meet 
 V our brave tars, will be saluted with a few round-cakes, 
 |hat he'll find damn'd hard to digest, and if ever he 
 attempts an invasion ' '^'^' ^-''^j . 
 
 (SUNO.) 
 
 Our soldiers, and our seamen too of this I'm sure and 
 certain, 
 
 Will fell ojreat Buonaparte it's all my eye and Peggy- 
 Martin. 
 
 A NEW OCCASIONAL ADDRESS. 
 SPOKEN BY Mrs. Johnstone, xHEATaE-itOYAL, batkJ'; 
 (Meyler ) 
 
 W) 
 
 HEN the bleak winds, in winter's hoary reign. 
 Bind up the waters in hisicey chain, 
 When round the pool, the village younojsters meet. 
 And try the frozen edge with tim'rous feet. 
 The surface trembles, and the crackling noise. 
 Cows, with wide spreading fear, faint-hearted boys ; 
 Whilst one more vent'rous than the rest appears. 
 Glides to the centre, and assured it bears, 
 Raised on hisskaits, the polish'd mirror skims, 
 J^^or dreads immersions deep, bruis'd bones, or broken 
 
 limbs; 
 Just such a vent'rer, trembling near the shore. 
 Was I, when first I tried this surface o'er. 
 With doubtful step, new to the slippery stage, 
 I anxious wish'd, yet dreaded to engage ; 
 Hope smiled auspicious, and assurance gave, 
 I should not meet a cold o'erwhelniing grave. 
 Then from the shore, my puny bark I push'd. 
 Whilst your applause my loudest terrors hush'd; 
 
 And
 
 i47 ' , 
 
 And to your candour trusting, still I glide,' 
 
 Safely my bark 'long the unruffled tide, 
 
 Your kind protection is the prosperous gale. 
 
 That speed's its voyage, and extends its sail ; 
 
 And whilst such fav'ring breezes happy blow. 
 
 With all the aid indulgence can bestow. 
 
 Be this her wish'd-for course, her grateful name, 
 
 Th' Endeavour Brig, bound for the port of Fame. 
 
 EVERY MAN HIS HOBBY. 
 
 Tune,-"" Ge ho dobbin." 
 
 T " " 1 
 
 XT was Dryden observ'd, whom you know was fam'd 
 
 wise. 
 That men are but children tho' six feet in size, ^ T 
 And honest old Shandy that whimsical droll, 'A v I 
 Thro' life's journey on hobbies he makes us all slroU. 
 
 Attention pray give while on hobbies I sing. 
 For each has his hobby from cobler to king. 
 On some favourite hobby we ail get astride, , 
 And when one6 we're mounted full gallop we ride. 
 
 Your beaux, those sweet gentlemen's hobby good lack. 
 Is to wear great large poultices tied round their necks. 
 And they think in the-Zon and the tippy they're dress'd. 
 If they have breeches that reach from the ancles to 
 chest. 
 
 The liobbies of soldiers in time of dread wars. 
 Are breaches, bravadoes and blood, wounds and sears. 
 But in peace you'll observe how different the trade is. 
 The hobbies of soldiers in peace are the ladies. 
 
 The ladies, sweet creatures, they now and then. 
 Get astride on their hobbies e'en just like the men, 
 "With smiles and with simpers beguile us with ease. 
 And we gallop, trot, amble e'en just as they please. . . . 
 
 Oiir
 
 148 
 
 Our manager's hobby is his plays well to castj 
 And he rides us poor actors most cursedly fast, 
 He keeps us full gallop and ne'er looks behind him> 
 And a damn'd spuring jockey we alt of us find him. 
 
 You'll ask me, no doubt, since I'm wondrous free. 
 Among others, friend what may your hobby be. 
 My hobby, good iolks, is at all times to please you. 
 And hope at a benefit tightly to squeeze you. 
 
 Ge ho dobbin, 8cc. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF OLD BACHELORS. 
 
 SUNO BY Mt. JeFFERSONT, THEAtRi^ BlV^ERLSy. 
 
 D 
 
 AME Nature one day in a comical mood. 
 
 While mixing the mould to make man, 
 Was struck with a thought as th'ingredients she view^d,- 
 
 To alter a little her plan ; 
 Her children she knew were much given to rove. 
 
 So tempering the clay with great art, 
 She sparingly threw in the soft seeds of love. 
 
 That usually spring round the heart; 
 But she quickly repented tho' too late 'tis true, ") p , 
 ^or a fusty old bachelor stood forth to view, j 
 
 Yes an old bachelor, A fusty old bachelor. 
 What's an old bachelor like? why, I'll tell ye. 
 An old bachelor is like is like a a 
 
 A tree without a branch, , srIT 
 
 A buck witfiouta haunch, 
 
 A knife without a fork. 
 
 Bottle without a cork, 
 
 A key without a lock, 
 
 A wig without a block. 
 Thus you see, my good friendsj what a whirrtsical 
 
 creature; ' 
 
 Wasform'd in a froHe, by old Mr<*d<jm Nature. 
 
 The
 
 149 
 
 The world ever since has been teaz'd with these 
 creatures. 
 Well known by their stiff formal strut, 
 Their dull downcast looks, crabb'd vinegar features. 
 
 And dress of true bachelor cut; 
 The bright blaze of beauty can't warm their cold clay, 
 
 Dislik'd by maid, widdow and wife ; 
 In a kind of half stupor the days pass away. 
 
 Of these blanks in the lottery of UCe. 
 Thus curtail'd of pleasure, a stranger to love. 
 The fusty old bachelor's destined to rove. 
 Yes the old bachelor, the fusty old bachelor, *- 
 What's an old bachelor? Why, I think that 
 ^n old bachelor's like a 
 
 Ship without a sail, 
 A cat without a tail. 
 Cellar without wine-o. 
 Purse without the rhino, 
 A watch without a chain, 
 A Skull without the brain. 
 Thus you see my good friends, what a whimsical 
 
 creature. 
 Was form'd in a frolic, by oW Madam Nature, 
 
 Now mark, if the sexes in number agree. 
 
 As some queer philosophers think, 
 Full many a damsel's soft heart I foresee. 
 
 At this part of my story will sink. 
 As two wives at once, men are not here allow'd 
 
 Unless their suit parliament aids : 
 And as bachelors stupid our streets daily croud. 
 
 It follows their must be old maids : 
 Thus we get from the smook, neatly into the smother. 
 For one evil treads on tl>e heels of another. 
 O fie on all ol<l bachelors, all flinty hearted bachelors. 
 
 What's an old bachelor, Why, I'm sure the ladies 
 
 young or old, married or single, will agree with roe, 
 
 ^haten old bachelor's like what shall I say-likelike? 
 
 A bell without a clapper, 
 
 A door without a rapper, 
 
 A drum-
 
 ?50 
 
 A ^rum without a fife, 
 
 Butcher without a knife, 
 
 A sun without a moon, 
 
 A dish without a spoon, 
 .Thus you see my good friends, what a whimsical 
 
 creature, 
 ^as made in a froh'c by old Madam Nature. 
 
 Y. 
 
 PARISH JOBBING ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 VESTRT MEETING. 
 
 OU know as well as I, in days of old. 
 As we by ancient history are told ; 
 When this church had a lee, and that, forsooth, 
 An arm, a scull, or else perhaps a tooth. 
 Of some right precious saint ; the touch of which. 
 Could cure the plague, the gout, small pox, or stitch. 
 Carver's were then employ 'd each shrine to grace. 
 And images were fix'd in ev'ry place. 
 Date we our tale from hfence, and next descry 
 A Parish Meeting, and the reason why. 
 
 Within an antique temple long had stood. 
 As good a God as e'er was made of wood ; 
 But now with age grown worm eaten and rotten, 
 They thought it time the God should be forgotten ; 
 For this the wardens would a Vestry call, 
 Whether to know (as this was fit to fall 
 
 11,1 
 llJ 
 
 They'd have a new God, or no God at a 
 
 Here they all agreed, it would be very odd, 
 
 For them to have a church, and ne'er a God. 
 
 One must be got. But first the gentry said for 
 
 A certainty as this God must be paid for. 
 
 Out of a parish rate to be assess'd. 
 
 They would by no means have the Poor oppress'd ; 
 
 They therefore thought their bus'ness was to take 
 
 The cheapest God that any man would make, 
 
 * Then
 
 5i 
 
 Then started up a tradesman, named Ezek'el, 
 
 Who dealt in Candles, Nails, and Oil, and Treacle, 
 
 There is said he within this parish here. 
 
 One that will do this job, and not too dear. 
 
 So let's directly send the Sexton to him, 
 
 It's such a one the Joiner; you all know him. 
 
 I'm very sure he'll do it to a T. 
 
 I know the Man ; he buys his nails of me. 
 
 Here, said a Butcher Hark ye. Friend, between us, 
 
 Ere he be sent for, has that man a genius ? 
 
 Z ds cry'd Ezekiel in a passion hurl'd, 
 I'll bring a proof of that against the world. 
 He owes me shillings now above a score. 
 And genius you know is always poor. 
 
 Next Snip the Tailor spoke said he, that's flat. 
 
 And I myself can xvitncss bear to that: 
 
 I'll tell you likewise how I came to know it ; 
 
 I made a pair of Breeches for a poet. 
 
 And I've his bill at home unpaid will shew it. 
 
 But what in this affair he did propose, 
 
 Was that he w.ish'd to make the God some clothes; 
 
 Howe'er he wish'd no benifits to reap. 
 
 For he would make his garments very cheap ; 
 
 From remnants, he would make him such a shiner. 
 
 There's not a God in these dominions finer. 
 
 Blood, says a Draper, is it thus you hatch work,; 
 D'ye think to fob us with a God of patchwork ? 
 No, no, I'll see his clothing neat and fine is ; 
 The God shall have as good a coat as mine is. 
 To that I'll promise for myself to see ; 
 None of your merry andrew Gods for me; 
 
 A Mercer said he'd find the God a shirt, 
 Arfd let the parish have it cheap as dirt. 
 
 A Barber said to make the God look big on 
 High festivals he needs must have a wig on, 
 He thoughtof making a full bottom'd high wig; 
 But if they pleas'd, the God should have a tye wig. 
 
 A wig 
 
 ]
 
 133 
 
 A wtg he sure must liave ; and over that, 
 A Hatter said, the God must have a hat. 
 Yes, says a Hosier, and I will make bold 
 To say his stockings should be clock'd with gold. 
 
 A Tanner, who as yet had never spoke, 
 Now 'rose, and thus he gravely silence broke ; 
 The argument which chiefly he rely'd on, 
 "Was here as how, the God should have a hide on ; 
 And all that he propos'd was only whether 
 They should agree upon what sort of leather. 
 
 'Twas here a shoemaker Hft up his voice, 
 
 Seal skins he said were best ; and he had choice. 
 
 No, said a fishmonger, we'll have no seal skins. 
 
 Be rul'd by me, and (pake his hide of eel skins. 
 
 Stay, said the wardens not without some laughter ; 
 
 Tirst raise the God we'll talk of clothing after. 
 
 To this they all agreed, no more was said ; 
 
 The joiner sent for, and a bargain made. 
 
 To bring his work in, too, a day was set. 
 
 The day arriv'd, and all the people met. 
 
 To see the new made God each was in flame. 
 
 The church was crowded, and the joiner came : 
 
 The God produc'd. But on his first appearing. 
 
 Such was the laughirlg, hissing, cursing, swearing. 
 
 That ne'er was known such jarring, groaning, flouting. 
 
 Since wrangling mobs first lea^rnt th? art of shouting. 
 
 However, all the joiner had to say for't 
 
 Was this ^-T-he'd made the God; and they must pay 
 
 for't. 
 They bade him take again his leg of wood ; 
 He swore he would not, and they swore he shou'd. 
 
 The warden, apprehensive of a riot, 
 
 (To clear the church, and keep the people quiet} 
 
 Thus spoke. My friends and neighbours all, my trust 
 
 is, 
 You'll go and order this before a justice j 
 And not stay wrangling here from morn till night, 
 Uut let his worship set the matter right. 
 
 Tci
 
 ^53 
 
 To this advice the people all agree 
 
 Then turning to the sexton : Go, said he. 
 
 And say that we depend upon his wisdom. 
 
 To view the God, and tell the joiner his doom 
 
 Within the parish, very near the place, 
 
 There dwelt a Justice with unmeaning face ; 
 
 Upon whose brow dwelt a majestic scowl 
 
 Like that of bird of Pallas'-call'd an owl. 
 
 A man he was, who with a large assortment 
 
 Of dulness, pass'd for one of grave deportment. 
 
 Il'o him the sexton did his tale relate. 
 And that the parish meant on him to wait ; 
 And to avoid all clamour and division. 
 They all resolv'd to stand by his decision. 
 His worship of his consequence right big 
 Slip'd on his furred gown, and sunday wig ; 
 Then squeez'd into a two arm'd chair (scarce able 
 To hold him) fix'd behind a large square Table ; 
 
 ^nd now behold his worship sit in state. 
 Hearing the parish all their griefs relate. 
 The first who spoke complained his size was stinted I 
 A second he was crook'd ; a third he squinted. 
 It was a crabtree God. The joiher spoke. 
 And swore the God was made of heart of oak. 
 The warden said he knew not what the tree was. 
 The God was no' n^ore like 4 God than he was 
 
 The justice who in former part of life. 
 Had had some dealings with the joiner's wife. 
 In this affair humanely set his heart. 
 Kindly to plead his cause, and take his part. 
 Cry'd mind what I say when you go to tax work 
 Of wood , you can't expect a piece of waxwork. 
 Why I I know the law. I don't know carving 
 But this I know I see the fellow's starving. 
 He's done his work you own the bargain made; 
 He must, oh yes the fellow must be paid. 
 Then this might be to him a piece of odd work ; 
 perhaps (poor man) he is not us'd to God-work. 
 
 Though
 
 ^54 
 
 Though now I needs must fell ye, for a wood God, 
 Methinks it seems a tolerable good God : 
 
 I will maintain in this here case, said he. 
 You all did mighty well to come to me ; 
 I must confess I hold it much more wise 
 Than bringing on a trial at the assize ; 
 'Tis better far ; better on ev'ry score. 
 For law is chargeable, the fellow poor. 
 Call silence there. John straightway call'd out si- 
 lence, 
 With voice so loud, it might be heard a mile thence; 
 Then spoke his worship with a look profound. 
 And very gravely cast his eyes around, 
 Now mark me well what I intend to do ; 
 I neither mean to hurt the man nor you. 
 The man must have his money for his labours; 
 Oh ! pay the man his due, and live like neighbours; 
 As to the God if 'tis not to your will, ' ' ni '. i 
 
 It very well may serve for something still. 
 You know (he paus'd and, as the story goes, 
 PuU'd out his handkerchief, and blow'd his nose ; 
 Then to the joiner with a look severe, 
 Hark you, said he you carving fellow there ;) 
 You know we read of beings good and evil ; 
 What will you take to make this God a devil ? 
 Can you make one ? I can upon my life, sir. 
 What will you make it by ? quoth he, my wife, sir. 
 Let them but pay me now just what they ought. 
 And then I'll make a devil on't for nought. 
 
 Why, neighbours, (said the justice) I declare, "| 
 
 Upon my soul, the man speaks very fair ; > 
 
 I say the word deny it now who dare. J 
 
 Here take the God away, and see you do't. 
 
 Make him all o'er as black as Hell with soot ; 
 
 His forehead you a pair of horns must nail on. 
 
 And hark you, friend be sure you clap a tail on ; 
 
 Fix to his legs a pair of cloven feet. 
 
 And brine; it to My WoRSiirp here to see't, 
 
 * , ^ The
 
 The joiner went, and quickly made by odds* 
 The best of devils of the worst of Gods. 
 
 And now behold, the people all amaz'd, -^ 
 
 At what, as God they hated stood and gaz'd ; l 
 
 And all admiring as a devil prais'd. J 
 
 The churchwarden on seeing this relented. 
 
 Paid down the cash, and all were well contented. 
 
 Cry'd with what skill his worship weigh'd the cause ; 
 
 ExtoU'd his wisdom much, and humm'd applause. 
 
 Aye (said the justice) now you see it fine is, 
 
 To have among you such a head as mine is. 
 
 Go clear the hall, bid Susan bring my cap ; 
 
 I'll drink my bottle off, and have a nap. 
 
 Then to the joiner, who was still in view. 
 
 Come back, said he I want to speak to you. 
 
 Now learn instruction from a man of letters, 
 
 And mind in future how you carve your betters. 
 
 As to this God :--this devil here I mean, 
 
 (For surely such a God was never seen.) 
 
 I stood your friend, because I saw you starv'd ; 
 
 But had it been an Alderman you'd carv'd. 
 
 As I'm alive, no money should have bail'd you ; 
 
 But spite of all your friends, I should have jail'd you. 
 
 A COMIC, POETIC, HEROIC, LOYAL ADDRESS, 
 IH CHARACTER OF 
 
 TOM THUMB. ^ 
 
 AS RECITED BY MaSTER MeADOWS, THEATRE, KENDAIt. 
 
 (^Meadows.) 
 
 EHOLDa Hero most renoun'd in story. 
 Who comes to add fresh laurels to his glory, 
 I've conauer'd Giants, that indeed is true. 
 But I'll ao more, I'll try to vanquish you ; 
 "" Bol4 
 
 B,
 
 156 
 
 JBoId in this cause eager I take the field. 
 Determined that I'll conquer, if you'll yield. 
 Faith, yield you shall, jadies take not alarm. 
 The females are protected from all harm ; 
 I'm your protector, can you have a safer. 
 Ten thousand Giants I have slain on paper. 
 But hold, friend Tommy, cease your idle boast. 
 For here perhaps you reckon without host; 
 ?f I look 'round this awe inspiring place, 
 I'm sure I shall not find one coward face. 
 How should I, am not I on England's shore. 
 Where liberty her choicest blessings pour ; 
 Protected by a King, whom Britons love, 
 As father, friend, the olire bearing dove. 
 Long may he grace this Isle, long may he see,. 
 His people happy, and from faction free ; 
 Our Commerce flourish. Envy droop her head. 
 And Loyalty triumphant in her stead. 
 Can I say more, with joy I'm almost dumb. 
 Excuse the warrnth of General Tom Thumb, 
 
 PEG T I M B E R T O E , 
 
 A Comic Irish Song. ^ 
 Tunc," Religion's a Politic law." 
 
 o. 
 
 'CH there liv'd not a long time a^o, 
 In that sweet town call'd Ballipcreen, 
 A virgin nam'd. Peg Tinnbertoe, 
 
 And myself, honies, called Darby O'Sheen,, 
 |n beauty we equall'd so pat, 
 
 For a leg and an eye wanted Peg, ' C | 
 
 And Darby cou'd match her for that. 
 For I wanted an eye and a leg. 
 
 W id aw ii3ck fallal, &c. 
 
 Och
 
 Och I saw, and I lovM this sweet creatur,- 
 
 I was struck with her presence behind. 
 No joy cou'd I e'er take in nature, 
 
 So I wrote a bis; piece of my mind, 
 O Peg, I my passion can't smother. 
 
 Like charcoal I'm burnt black and blue. 
 So without any nonsense or bother, 
 
 I'd marry, dear hone/, with you. 4 ) / . 
 
 Wid a wack fal lal, toV 
 
 So I sent her this humbugging letter. 
 
 Each pot-hook. Peg turn'd to a dart. 
 She swore that she ne'er read a better. 
 
 It trip'd up the heels of her heart. 
 Then she quickly her passion confest. 
 
 In accents so sweet and so mild. 
 My heart jumps about in my breast, 
 
 Och bother I'll surely run wild. 
 
 Wid a wack fal lal, &c. 
 
 Then the priest of the parish came straight/ 
 
 He knew our perfections to scan. 
 He swore that a maid so complete. 
 
 Never wedded so perfect a man. 
 We surely were form'd for delight, 
 
 Tho' to give old Palaver his due. 
 Whisky punch had so bother'd his sight. 
 
 He could not tell a P from a Q. 
 
 Wid a wack fal lal, 3c^if 
 
 So he hiccup'd and bless'd us again, 
 
 In hopes We should double his pay. 
 But before the clerk snuffled amen. 
 
 We hopp'd like two magpies away. 
 The evening we spent in delight. 
 
 In the morn we were call'd to eat eggs. 
 When we saw on the turf blazing bright, 
 
 (Oh blood and turf) Oiir beautiful two wood^rf 
 legs. 
 
 Wid a wack fal lal, &c. 
 
 A COMie?^
 
 I5 
 
 A COMIC PINDARIC TAT,E, CAII.EI>, 
 
 THE KNIGHT AND THE BARBER, 
 
 A 
 
 O B, 
 
 CLOSE SHAVING. 
 
 A. CERTAIN worthy Knight, whose face 
 Resembled much a fiddle case. 
 Whose lantern jaws on either side, 
 Had long to prop his cheeks denied; 
 Went to be snav'd 
 The barber with a bow or two. 
 Did as most barbers do. 
 And most barbarical behaved ; 
 First in a cliair he plac'd him, 
 Then with a napkin grac'd him. 
 Which had most likely been, 
 Sometime or other rather clean ; 
 And now from razor-case drew the machine. 
 Once as sharp as the axe of the French Guillotine, 
 Which used to save trouble of jury or trial. 
 In shaving such nobs as were thought to be loyal; 
 Now with a heavy lather he brisk applies, 
 Half filling the mouth and near blinding the eves 
 Of his patient, who shrouded so snug in his robe. 
 Endured what might weary the patience of Job; 
 Then, brandishing his razor high in air. 
 He seem'd for actual service to prepare, 
 Proceeding with great caution and due care. 
 To free the Phiz of all superfluous hair; 
 But now a dreadful doubt arose. 
 After he'd plac'd his palm upon his nose. 
 As if he'd meant his patients breath to close ; 
 Whether he could with safety takeaway. 
 The beard that grew burned, as I may say. 
 Within the hollow caverns nature had. 
 On each side of his muzzle made. 
 Therefore he with most obsequious cringe,, 
 Beg'd that he might be allovv'd to singe; 
 
 At
 
 '59 
 
 At this old sir Lanthorn Jaws horribly curs'd, 
 
 And swore that he'd see all the barbers sent first. 
 
 To the regions infernal, and fifty times farther, 
 
 Before he'd be shav'd with inflamable lather; 
 
 The barber humbly beg'd his honour's pardon. 
 
 But thought his business was a plaguy hard one. 
 
 And fresh expedient being forced to seek. 
 
 He thrust his finger withinside his cheek ; 
 
 And lifting up the skin which like scorch'd leathcrj 
 
 Or coat of toasted cheese was shrunk together. 
 
 With care and due precaution safe he got, 
 
 O'er warts, wens, pimples, wrinkles, and what not; i.' 
 
 'Till growing in his business too secure, i 
 
 Forgetting he was not a sinecure, ^'T 
 
 He by not quite a scientific slash, 
 
 Cut in the patients cheek a most tremendous gash ; 
 
 The poor knight starting with the pain, 
 
 Rose from the chair with might and main. 
 
 Raving and roaring round the shop he run. 
 
 You've cut my cheek, you careless son of a gun ; " 
 
 But he who thro' the wounded part, 
 
 Had felt the spice of his own heart, 
 
 Cried out just like a minstrell singer. 
 
 Curse your thin cheeks I say, I've cut my firigct.L' 
 
 THE MINIATURE PAINTER 
 
 * As SUNG IN Character of Daniel O'daub. 
 (Cross.) 
 
 jL OU may talk about mimics that take people off. 
 With their double tongu'd brogue and grimaces. 
 They take but the voice and that's little enough. 
 
 But I take off necks, heads and faces ; 
 Then I give the sweet creatures such beautiful features. 
 
 Beholders are certain to strike. 
 That resemblance so great is from toe to the pate, 
 By my soul that you'll ne'er see the like ; 
 
 In
 
 i6o 
 
 in a ro\V the laJs call me the first at a pUslij 
 
 And all the girls say I'm a dab at a brush ; 
 
 There's the pretty maid, the witty maid^ - 
 The nappincT maid, the strapping maid. 
 The thinking maid, the drinking maid. 
 The bold maid, and the old maid. 
 The so so maid, and the no maid, 
 
 1 make all look handsome for charming iHy trade is. 
 
 And neatly I tickle the taste of the ladies. 
 
 I tickle the tafsteof the ladies. 
 
 Their teeth are flake white^ and carnation each cheek^;- 
 
 Their lips view, you'd think on bob cherry, 
 Their tongues too tho' silent, look ready to speak. 
 
 And their eye lashes black as a berry, 
 With dimples I make'em, so roguish^ plague take'eM^ 
 
 The devil's own self they'd beguile, 
 tThey so lovingly leer, that your bosoms they'd cheer> 
 
 And faith frown you dead with a smile ; 
 Like diarrtonds so sweetly they sparkle each eye, 
 The dark world with moonlight they'd sweetly supplyj* 
 There's the sleeping eye, the weeping eye, 
 The strolling eye, the rolling ejre. 
 The hinting eye, the squinting eye. 
 The dumb eyej- and the one eye. 
 The so so eye, ^nd the no eye^ 
 So handsome I make'em for charming my trade is, 
 I'm the lad just to tickle the taste of the ladies. 
 
 To tickle the taste of the ladies* 
 
 T 
 
 Grizzle. {mdin.) 
 
 WAS one morning in May, thte weather but qiieetj 
 Rather hazy, a sort of a mizzle, 
 "When with a love song, I Was shot thro' the eaf. 
 
 By a maid, and her name it was Grizzle; 
 The graces might dance, to the tune of her song, 
 All warbling, and full of her riggs. 
 
 With
 
 i6i 
 
 With a bucket of wash, as she tript it along. 
 
 Just going to feed the pigs ; 
 Tig tig tig. 
 
 Then to hear the old sow, ask the little pig. 
 My love have you got enough. 
 
 And the little pig cry out, oui oui oui. 
 Speaking french, to shew her breeding d'ye see. 
 
 Why a bench of Judges, might have shook their 
 wigs, 
 ^o hear the like, of the fun and the rigs. 
 
 While lovely Grizzle was feeding the pigs. 
 
 The next time I saw her, was at the barn door, 
 
 Dress'd in petticoat, sleeves and a boddice. 
 What art thou, said I, for I'm not very sure. 
 
 Art a fairy, a, witch, or a Gocldess, 
 The muses in vain, would describe her in seng, 
 
 'Stead of nine, had they seventy pens. 
 As graceful the barley, she scatter'd along. 
 
 All feeding the cocks and the hens; 
 Coop biddy coop biddy cup. 
 
 Then to see all the chickens come tumbling up. 
 While chanticleer cried to his hens, 
 
 Clook clook clook, clook clook clook, 
 Xook took took took took, took took took took took. 
 
 Not the hens and the cocks, nor the cocks an-i the 
 hens, 
 Tho' their tails and their wings, were all made into 
 pens. 
 
 Could e'er describe Grizzh while feeding the bens. 
 
 To Grizzle I'm married, so bless*d ne'er was man, * 
 
 We have children, the best part of twenty, 
 So we try to maintain 'em, as well as we can. 
 
 While content turns our pittance to plenty. 
 If the great, their dependants, and parasites own. 
 
 So do we for the dogs and the cats, 
 ^pme flattering round, for a scrap or a bone, 
 
 While we're feeding our sweet little brats, 
 
 J. Diddle
 
 l62 
 
 i;>iddle liddle liddle, come then into lap, 
 
 Then I awkwardly burn the childs mouth with tjie 
 pap, 
 Then to hear the sweet music. 
 
 Yah yah yah yah, yah yah yah yah. 
 Hush hush hush hush hush, come to its Mamma, 
 
 Miaw--bow wow, oh he has let his sister fall, 
 "You little dog I'll knock your brains out. 
 
 Blest with children and wife, and my dogs and my 
 cats, " ' . 
 
 .Throw settlements titlesand deeds to the rats. 
 
 Give me my sweet Grizzle while feeding her brajis. 
 
 WILL W A D D L E; 
 
 O B, 
 
 LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. 
 
 (^Colman.) 
 
 W 
 
 HO has e'er been in London, that overgrown 
 place. 
 Has seen '* lodgings to let" stare him full in the face ; 
 Sorrre are good, and let dearly ; while some, 'tis well 
 
 known, . 
 
 ^Are so deiar; and so bad, they are best let alone. 
 
 Derrydowh. 
 
 Will PFaddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, 
 Hir'd lodgings that took single gentlemen only ; 
 But Will was so fat, he appear'd like a tun. 
 Or like two single gentlemen rol'd into one. 
 
 He entered his rooms ; and to bed he retreated. 
 But, all the nightlong he felt fever'd and heated ; 
 And though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep. 
 He was not^ by any means, havy to sleep. 
 
 Ntxt
 
 163 
 
 Next night 'twas the same ; and the next ; and the 
 
 next ; 
 He perspir'd like an ox ; he was nervous and vex'd ; 
 "Week pass'd after week ; till, by weekly succession. 
 His weakly condition was past all expression. 
 
 In six months, his acquaintance began much to doubt 
 
 him ; 
 For his skin, ** like a lady's loose gown," hung about 
 
 him ; 
 He sent for a doctor ; and cried, like a ninny, 
 ** I have lost many pounds make me well there's a 
 
 guinea." 
 
 The doctor look'd wise : ** a slow Fever,'*he said ; / 
 Prescrib'd sudorifics and going to bed. 
 ** Sudorifics in bed," exclaim'd Will, "are humbugs ! 
 I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs.'*^ 
 
 'jB^zy lii i'Q bail-) 'jii 
 
 "Will kick'd out the doctor but when ill ind^ed^, ^ ' 
 E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed ; 
 So calling his host, he said **sir, do you know, 
 I apn the fat single gentleman, six months ago ? 
 
 Look'e landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin,^j 
 ** That with honest intentions you first took me in : . 
 But from the first night and to say it I'm bold 
 I have been so damn'd hot, that I'm sure I caught cold 
 
 Quoth the landlord** 'till now, I ne'er had a dispute; 
 I've let lodgings ten years-'I'm a baker to boot ; . i 
 In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven, .\ 
 
 And your bed is immediately over my oven." 
 
 ** The oven ! ! !'* says Will says the host, * Why this 
 passion ? . ^ V" 
 
 In that excellent bed died three people of fashion, " '* 
 
 Why so crusty, good sir?"** Zounds ! "--cries Will, 
 in a taking, 
 
 ** Who wou'dn't be crusty, with halfa year's baking?"
 
 I 4 
 
 Will paid for his rooms ; cried the host with a sneer, 
 ** Well, I see you've been going aivay half a year ;" 
 ** Friend, we can't weli agree yet no quarrel," 
 
 Will said, 
 ** For one man may die where another makes bread." 
 
 NEPTUNE'S CHOICE .- 
 
 OR THE 
 
 T I CH t LIT T I, i; I S L A N JX. 
 
 (T. Dibdin.) 
 
 w 
 
 HEN the world first began, and some folks sftjjif, 
 before, . , 
 
 As old Neptune was quaffing his grog H the Nore, -/' 
 He cried out in his cups, "as my la7id is the sea," 
 It's time to consult what its colour shall be. 
 
 Tol de rol lol, &rc. 
 
 'Amphitrite who had been to dripk tea at Sheerness, 
 And had seen at the barracks a captain's spruce dress. 
 To her husband she cried, as she flirted her fan, 
 X.et its colour b^red, <* do now that's a dear man." 
 
 ' ' Tol de rol lol, &c.. 
 
 3>Jeptune shook his rough locks, at his wife gave 4 
 
 frown. 
 Then his tailor call'd in, with sbme patterns from towa^. 
 He still was perplext, 'till he cast up his eye, ^_ i 
 And resolv'd that the ocean, should match the br^(. 
 
 sky. ' ^.-^ 
 
 Tol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 Thus the sea, as philosophers know to be true. 
 As it wash'd our white clifs bore a fine azure hue, 
 'Till the laurel of Britain victorious was seen. 
 To rtflect on its surface and change it to green. 
 ^ Tolderollol, feq. 
 
 You
 
 1% 
 
 You may guess our opposers were sad at the sight. 
 As the sea grew more green, why Monsiuer grew mor<i 
 
 white. 
 And they never beheld it, but vext at the view. 
 They scold at poor Neptune and cry out Morbleu. 
 
 Tol de rol lol, &c* 
 
 May its colour remain, and good luck to the boys. 
 Who o'er its salt surface, thro' danger and noise. 
 With Howe, Duncan, St. Vincent and Nelson main^ 
 
 tain. 
 That this tight little Island, still governs the main. 
 
 Tol de rol lol, &c. 
 
 AN OCCASIONAL, COMIC, NAUTICAL, 
 
 ADDRESS; 
 
 (in character of a Lieutenant.) 
 
 As spokien on the opening of the Theatre, Whitbyi 
 November l6th 1803, by Mr. Meadows. 
 
 (Alter d and adapted from T. Dibdinj Esq.) 
 
 Speaking without, R. H. 
 
 XXOLD hold avast boatswain, (to Prompter^ ert 
 ^ anchor we weigh, 
 ermit an old Seaman, a few words to say. 
 
 Enters, R. H. 
 
 What-cheer, I hope hearty, it makes the heart glowi 
 To bid welcome to friends, both aloft and below. 
 Well our tackle's all ready, our hands are all staunch,' 
 And with rapture we hail you, to witness the Launch ; 
 We've refitted you see, a snug neat pleasure boat. 
 And we nope by your favour, to keep her afloat ; 
 
 ach
 
 1 66 
 
 Each cabin's convenient, (boxes) at least so 'twas 
 
 plann'd, 
 There's snu^ births below, (pit) and our tops (gallery) 
 
 are well mann'd ; 
 Our timbers are taught (stage) some messmates tho' 
 
 new, 
 Join with old ones in claiming protection from you ; 
 Each hand on this deck, (stagey comes with fix'd in- 
 clination. 
 To rise in. the service, by your approbation ; 
 Tho' in other provisions you'll find your own table, 
 We'll keep you in spirits as long as we're able ; 
 "We've Artillery too, care and folly to shoot. 
 And are arm'd as these gentlemen, (Orchestra) witness, 
 
 en flute ; 
 We've great guns o{ Tragedy, loaded so well, 
 If they do but go off, they must certainly tell ; 
 While with small shot, from Farce and low Comedy 
 
 swivels. 
 We've sworn to burn, sink, or destroy the Blue Devils; 
 But aim where we will, we shall ever require. 
 From your hands a good broadside, to second our fire ; 
 Should you ask with what freightage our vessel is 
 
 stor'd. 
 What cargo, what riches, we carry on board ; 
 Look round, you'll see a// Britons value on earth, 
 True freedom good nature wit beauty and worth ; 
 With such lading as this, while our voyage round we 
 
 measure. 
 Our anchor is hope, our compass your pleasure; 
 
 Bows and is going, returns. 
 
 Yet hold, ere I go you may think it but right. 
 To know under what colours we sail, trade, and fight ; 
 *Tis English, true English, her name would you know. 
 We call her the Whitby, mann'd by Butler and Co ; 
 Of whose zeal as commander, zounds I nearly, but 
 
 mum. 
 His actions will speak, so I'd better be dumb ; 
 Hearts and hands are all loyal, our standard you view. 
 Which we never will strike, while protected by yon. 
 
 THE
 
 167 
 THE AWKWARD RECRUIT. 
 
 X)EH0LD poor Will, just come from drill^ 
 
 Not long ago I listed ; 
 I sold my cart to pay the smart. 
 
 But money they resisted. 
 I can't tell what may be my lot, i 
 
 But still'tis mighty odd, sir. 
 That they should. pop a. lad like I, 
 
 Into their awkward squad, sir ; 
 With sword and dagger, belt and swagger,-^ .. 
 
 Tal de ral, &c/ 
 
 I wish I was at home again. 
 
 And got my working clothes on. 
 My greasy hat as here it sat. 
 
 And Sunday's woollen hose on ; , ; 
 But at command, J'm forc'd to stand 
 
 As stiff as any poker ; 
 And in this plight wheel to the right. 
 
 Or my head it would be broke, sir ; 
 
 They break one's head with such a kind of a 
 
 Tal de ral, fee. 
 
 I walk'd and run, for the corporal's fun, 
 
 'Till I've wore two pair of shoes out ; 
 
 And had such knocks, as if in the stocks. 
 
 To make me turn my toes out ; 
 I'm sure they can no good intend. 
 
 To run me out of breath, sir, , 
 
 And then this stock, drawn round my neck 
 (O curse .n 
 It throttles me to death, sir, 
 
 And somehow or other, when I'm stuffing the 
 victuals down my throat, I can't get 'em dbwn. 
 
 f 
 
 for this confounded Tal de ral, &c. 
 
 But like a maken I must stand, 
 
 With my fingers below my breeches i 
 
 Nor
 
 168 
 
 Nor dare not even move my hands 
 
 To scratch my head^where it itclies ; 
 And there the soap and flour 
 
 Is plaster'd on my head, sir ; 
 But for my king and country 
 I'll fight until I'm dead, sir : 
 
 Ho, God bless the king ! I'll fight for him, and 
 sing Tal de lal, &c. 
 
 If Serjeant Kite informs me right, 
 
 I cut a pretty figure ; 
 And why mayn't I in battle try. 
 
 Sure I can pull a trigger : 
 It is my will the French to kill, 
 
 I'll do't with all my heart, sir ; 
 Who knows but a recruit may chance to shoot 
 
 Great General Bonaparte, sir. 
 Why, that French dog, if I get hold of him, I'll 
 give him such a Tal de ral, &c. 
 
 If I can kill this great Frenchman, 
 
 My country be befriended. 
 It be a thunder-bolt for France, 
 
 And making the wars be ended : 
 No doubt but I shall captain be, 
 
 {^There's a pretty Jigure for a captain) 
 . O, that's a pretty thing, sir ; 
 
 I'll tear my throat from night to morn. 
 Shout huzza ! God save the King, sir : 
 
 O, God bless the King, if any body shotild med- 
 dle with him, I'll give them such a kind of a 
 Tal de ral, &c. 
 
 But now my blood bejjins to rise. 
 
 It shows that I'm a Briton ; 
 And if the French should dare to land. 
 
 Huzza I my bovs, we'll spit'em, 
 I.et ev'ry man to his motto stand. 
 
 And that's, we knpw, a Lion ; 
 
 Let
 
 169 
 
 I^et English boys go heart and hand. 
 There hang 'em we defy 'em : 
 
 Damn the French dogs, if they come here, me 
 
 and the Volunteers will give then! 
 
 such a Tal de ral, &c. 
 
 JERRY SNEAKS JEU DE ESPRIT; 
 
 O R> 
 
 THE MINIKIN PIN MAKER IN HIS GLORY, 
 
 Vi 
 
 ELL here I am, I suppose before I speak. 
 You knows as how, as I be Jerry Sneak, 
 I wishes my brother Bruin vas but here. 
 For since I seed him last, my precious dear. 
 My vife I mean, has given me such a snubbing, 
 *Gad to tell truth, it was a devillish drubbing; 
 And all a cause, as how I said, says I, 
 Vone day vhen nobody but ourselves vai by ; 
 Says I, the people says, my lovely chuck. 
 They says as how, as you've made me a buck ; 
 Vat's that ye noodle, says she, I'll lay a vager. 
 Some fools ha' been a talking 'bout the major; 
 Lord so they have, says I, vhat made you guess it^ 
 And you knows I seed you too, tho' you vont confess k^ 
 Both in the garden, * that of that, you brute," 
 " The garden didn't we only go to pluck som 
 
 fruit?" 
 Aye but says I, the summer house for that, 
 I'll swear as how his boots vas of that's flat: 
 An you vas frighten'd vhen you heard me cough, 
 I upnose you thinks mayhap at me to laugh; 
 But I'm advised by Bruin aye by him; 
 To bring an action out, about Con Crim : ^ 
 
 And so I villf I'm told with such good grounds, 
 As how my damages vill be a thousand pounds; 
 AH this I told her, oh Lord oh dear she's here. 
 Oh no she's not, 'twas nothing but my fear ; 
 
 But
 
 1/0 
 
 f 
 
 But If as how, as I can from her parf, 
 
 I'll shew'em all that Jerry has a heart: 
 
 j\od if I can but compass, this here casli, 
 
 I'll shew you what it is to cut a dash ; 
 
 I'll be a buck of spirit, shew'em the kick, 
 
 I'll vear my Sunday's coat on all the veek. 
 
 An then at table let my lovey frown, 
 
 I'll help myself, aye, to a bit of the brown ; 
 
 I'll go too every night to the Nags-head club. 
 
 And stay as long as I like,, apd swig the bub ; 
 
 Then coming home as drunk as David's sow, 
 
 ril break the lamps, and I'll kick up a row; 
 
 Knock down the Vatchmen too, and have such sport,' 
 
 Mayhap get into the Vatch-house, that's your sort ; 
 
 I'll be as bio; a blade as Peter Prig, 
 
 And strap my vife there'll be a pretty rig ; 
 
 Oh lud, vas she to hear me, but as long. 
 
 As she an't here, I'll sing my funny song. 
 
 Pray don't be angry, if a laugh should seize ye, 
 
 I means no hairin, I only vish to please ye. 
 
 FOUR AND TWENTY PUPPET SHEWS, 
 
 Jj OUR and twenty Puppet Shows all on a row. 
 Four and twenty Puppet Shows all on a row. 
 
 There was Punch and his wife going to old Nick iii 
 a hand basket, zind the h'ttle devil lighting them with 
 a dark lanthorn for fear they should lose their way, 
 and there was the celebrated Monsterini standing be- 
 hind the door in a manner never attempted by any 
 body before, and laying nothing at all in a foreign 
 language, for theinformationaf the people down below. 
 
 It is my lady's holiday. 
 Therefore we will be riierry. 
 
 Four
 
 171 
 
 Four and twenty Gardeners all on a row. 
 Four Snd twenty Gardeners all on a row. 
 
 There were the great Gardeners at the West-end 
 oF the town boasting what fine large crops of salery, 
 they had, and there were the poor Gardener's at the 
 East-end of the town without any salery at all to sup^ 
 port a plentiful crop from the parsley bed, and there; 
 they were crying, onions, fine large onions, no more 
 than a penny a rope, to see Punch and his wife goings 
 &c. 
 
 It is my lady's holiday, &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Lawyers all on a row. 
 Four and twenty Lawyers all on a row. 
 
 There was Middlesex to wit, being the first day of 
 term, all the black coats came home fresh from the 
 scourers, there were special originals, fiery faces, copies 
 of uneasiness, counsellors, bum-bailiffs, attorneys, and 
 jew-bail, all a penny a rope, and the devil lighting 
 them with a dark lanthorn for fear they should lose 
 their way, down below. 
 
 It is my lady's holiday, &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Doctors all on a row. 
 Four and twenty Doctors all on a row, 
 There were regular physicians, quack physicians, 
 surgeons, apothecaries, men-midwives, and a vast 
 number of other old women, consulting about perri- 
 wigs, lotions and potions, cutting up constitutions, and 
 knocking'em down with gold headed canes, deaths 
 heads, snuff-boxes, and undertakers, all special origi- 
 nals, Middlesex to wit, being the first day of term, all 
 the black coats came home fresli from the scourers, 
 counsellors and bum-bailiffs, attorneys and jew-bail, 
 all a penny a rope, and the little devil lighting'em with 
 a dark lanthorn, for fear they should lose their way, 
 down below. 
 
 It is my lady's holiday, Scd 
 - FoUt
 
 172 
 
 t 
 
 J'our and twenty Admirals all oft a row. 
 Four and twenty Admirals all on a row, 
 
 There was the English Admiral (the brave Duncan) 
 supporting the glory and honour of the british flag, 
 and finishing a noble autumn, by b?inging a dutch 
 fVinter into England, and there was the brilish admi- 
 ral running away with the credit of the day, and the 
 dutch admiral forced to stay, a prisoner they say among' 
 regular physicians, quacks, surgeons, apothecaries^ men- 
 mid wives, and otherold women, consulting about perri- 
 wigs, lotions and potions, aM special origirtals, Middlesex 
 to wit, and the little devil lighting them with a dark 
 lanthornforfear they should lose their way down bfelow. 
 It is my lady's holiday, &c. 
 
 Four and twenty Actors all on a row. 
 Four and twenty Actors all on a row, 
 . There was Alexander the Great, Toby Allspice;, 
 Pizarro, Caleb Quotum, Captain Bobadil, Sir Johri 
 FalstafF, Quig Odd body. Darby, King Richard, Dicky 
 Gossup, Father Phillip and little Pickle, giving th? 
 English Admiral a royal salute, the british admiral 
 running away with the the credit of the day, and the 
 dutch Admiral forced to stay, among a vast number 
 pf other old women consulting about perriwigs, lotions 
 and potions, cuttingup constitutions, and knocking'eni 
 down, with gold headed canes, snuff-boxes* nd under- 
 takers, all special originals, fiery faces, copies of uneasi- 
 nesSj counsellors and bum-bailiffs, attorneys and jew- 
 bail, all a penny a rope, and the little devil lightiirg 
 them with a dark lanthorn for fear they should lose 
 their way, and there was the celebrated Monsterini 
 standing behind the door, in a manner never attempted 
 by any body before, and the famous Italian Harlequrri 
 jumping over a two-penny lo^f without ever touching 
 the under crust, thro' a hogshead of porter, where it he 
 thances to stick in the middle, he'll drink his way thro* 
 for the information of the people down below, 
 It is my lady's holiday. 
 
 Therefore let us b- merry. 
 
 THE
 
 THE PARSON AND QUAKER. 
 
 xV JOliLY-FAC'D Parson once happen'd to pop 
 Into Cymon Pure's plain-dealing every-day shpp. 
 To look out a hat that wou'd just fit his nob. 
 But his Ilev'rence found that a most difficult job. 
 
 Derry dow^, 
 i- ,./>^ 
 Hfe!'oV3, and he tried still laying them down. 
 For he had found none yet big enough for his crown; 
 At last he squeez'd one on it fitted him pat, 
 * Now," says he, ** Mr. Pure, what's the price of this 
 
 " Derry down. 
 
 Cymon turn'd round the hat 'fore his cream coloured 
 
 face, 
 *' Four and ninepence," said he, and a hum fil'd the 
 
 space ; 
 *' Four and ninepence !" cried black coat, and turn'd 
 
 the hat o'er, 
 f * By my God, I ne'er gay^ so much itioney before. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 The Quaker cried, ** Parson, thou'rt in a bad way, 
 ' We people ne'er swear but by good yea and nay; 
 *' We never make mention of God's holy name," 
 * By God,' cried the Parson, then you're much to 
 
 blame. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 **Umph," said the Quaker, *'art 'sure this is true? 
 If thou speakest next sunday I'll come near thy pew. 
 And if thou to the people will swear plain and flat, 
 3y good yea and nay, why, I'll give thee the hat." 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 The Parson agreed, as for good sunday next. 
 
 And his Quakership went, just to hear this bad text; 
 
 In
 
 174' 
 
 In the aile's vacant centre he. took up his place. 
 And star'd his tat Reverence full in the face. 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 There he stood, like a post, without rpoving a limb. 
 With his vinegar face, and his great broad hat brim; 
 i^Qr the whole congregation O this was rare fun, 
 Tor he ne'er stir'd one bone till the Parson begun. 
 
 Perry down. 
 
 " By God," said the Parson, " we live and we mOve, 
 f By God we have feeling, and pleasure,- a^jd love; 
 The Quaker then hearing him speak it so pat, 
 jCried o^t, * By the God, I hav lost my good hat." 
 
 Derry down. 
 
 F INI S. 
 
 J y.flfiorn iisL' 
 
 oJ L'ori UbnA
 
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