f; &// / ) / 
 
 } s> //////y'////'///x < 
 
 Author of Eccentric Kxctirfions, fcc.
 
 THE 
 
 FUGITIVE 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 Etteratp 
 
 IX 
 
 PROSE AND POETRY, 
 
 OF 
 
 G. M. WOODWARD* 
 
 Author of ECCENTRIC EXCURSIONS, and various PRINTS 
 OF HUMOUR, 
 
 " Laugh where -we must be candid where v:e can " POPE. 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE .iVTIIOR, 
 
 BY J. SHAW, SILVER STREET, FLEET STREET; 
 AND SOLD BY 
 
 T. GODDARD, No. 1, Pall Mall, Corner of the Hay-market; 
 S. W. FORES, No. 50, Piccadilly, Comer of Sackville Street; 
 
 AND THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS, 
 
 1800.
 
 STAC* A 
 
 AS A 
 
 AND 
 
 OFFERING TO PRIVATE WORTH, 
 
 C6e 3utbor Dentcate0 tfjifli Volume 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN ROSE, ESQ. 
 
 OP 
 
 GRAY's INN SQUARE.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 T 
 
 JL H E materials wnich compose the following 
 
 work, are selected from Productions written by the 
 Author at different periods ; many of them were pub- 
 lished at a very early age, and are not, the Author 
 fears, exempt from the faults of juvenile compositions; 
 but having many years united the characters of Author 
 and Artist, he trusts he shall be allowed some claim 
 to the Candour of the Public and the Indulgence of 
 Criticism. 
 
 The smaller subjects it is unnecessary to enumerate, 
 but in justice to some of the Proprietors of the works 
 from which the principal selections are taken, the fol- 
 lowing brief list is subjoined. 
 
 The Journals, Diaries, Prayers, &c. are taken from 
 an extensive Collection with Designs by the Author, 
 etched by Rovvlandson, and published by Mr. Acker- 
 man, at the Repository of Arts, 101, Strand. 
 
 The Father's Tale, and part of the Essays, from a 
 work entitled " The Olio of Good Breeding/' with 
 Plates by the Author, published by Mr. Ackerman. 
 
 The Story of the Brewer The Miser's Song, &c. 
 from a work entitled " The Elements of Bacchus," 
 with Designs by the Author, published by Mr. Holland, 
 11, Cockspur Street, Pall Mall.
 
 VI 
 
 Giles and his Guinea Jack at the Play, &c. from 
 a work entitled " Attempts at Humour," Part the 
 First, with Physiognomical Sketches by the Author, 
 etched and published by Mr. P. Roberts, Middle Row, 
 Holborn. The Proprietors of the work have a 
 Second Part, with Sketches, ready for the Press. 
 
 The Address to the Owl, &c. from a work entitled 
 " This Musical Mania," with Designs by the Author, 
 etched and published by Mr. Roberts. 
 
 The Author's VARIOUS CARICATURES, and PRINTS 
 of HUMOUR, are published by Mr. Ackerman, Re- 
 pository of Arts, 101, Strand; Mr. Holland, 11, 
 Cockspur Street, Pall Mall; Mr. Fores, Corner of 
 Sackville Street, Piccadilly; Mr. Roberts, Middle Row, 
 Holborn; and Mr. Allen, 51, Pater-noster Row. 
 
 OF THE LATTER MAY BE HAD, 
 
 Price Five Pounds^ with the Prints coloured^ or Two Pounds 
 Ten Shillings^ plain, 
 
 ECCENTRIC EXCURSIONS, 
 
 IN ENGLAND AND WALES, 
 With One Hundred Designs by the Author. 
 
 From this work are taken the Farmer at Vauxhall 
 The Sonnet to the Skylark The Itinerant Theatrical 
 Anecdote, &c.
 
 TPAGE 
 
 HE Hours, or the Life of Man. A Pastoral 1 
 
 The Father's Tale...... - 9 
 
 Specimens of Pleasing in Conversation 12 
 
 The Sailor's Journal - - 15 
 
 The Old Maid's Prayer...- 17 
 
 Prince Robert . 19 
 
 The Gay Deceiver 22 
 
 The Usurer's Diary 25 
 
 Modern Sensibility __ 27 
 
 The Actress's Prayer 29 
 
 Sonnet to the Sky Lark _ , . 31 
 
 Giles and his Guinea 32 
 
 Verses to a very young Lady - 35 
 
 Laura. A Pastoral fc 36 
 
 Sonnet' on a Butterfly 44 
 
 Female Constancy . ._ 45 
 
 The Farmer at Vauxhall 47 
 
 Julia's Tomb 53 
 
 The Castle of Erasmus . . 56
 
 Vlll 
 
 Sonnet to a Pig caught in a Gate *.. 63 
 
 An Address to the Owl 65 
 
 Familiar Verses from the Ghost of Willy Shakespeare 
 
 to Sammy Ireland . 
 
 Agreeable Deviations from the Truth _ 7$ 
 
 The Age of Folly. A Poem.. 77 
 
 Conversation at Table 89- 
 
 Invitation to Laura . . . 93 
 
 Timid Love 95 
 
 Jack at the Play 97 
 
 Damon to Coron 99 
 
 Sir Toby Bumper, the Resurrection Man, and the Brewer 101 
 
 The Green Lady. A Poem .... ..... 107 
 
 The Miser's Song 130 
 
 Anacreontic ......... . . 132 
 
 Celia's Song to her Heart 133. 
 
 A Sporting Anecdote ..... ............ 13a 
 
 An Itinerant Theatrical Anecdote 137 
 
 A Law Anecdote.. . 133
 
 THE 
 
 HOURS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LIFE OF MAN. 
 
 PASTORAL. 
 
 IN FOUR PARTS. 
 
 INFANCY. 
 
 Exemplified in a Description of the MORNING. 
 
 E dryads who haunt the clear stream and the grove, 
 For you shall my reed breathe the pastoral lay, 
 Whether courting the Muse in the raptures of love, 
 Or guarding my flock in the heat of the day. 
 
 Aurora advances, pale Cynthia retires, 
 
 Her crescent extinguished, the dawn is increasM, 
 Lo, Phoebus, slow rising, rekindles his fires, 
 
 And light with its glories emblazons the east. 
 
 \ 
 
 B
 
 2 
 
 The thistle-down flies on the wings of the breeze, 
 Tranquillity reigns o'er the opening morn, 
 
 The cattle extended lie musing at ease, 
 
 And the blackbird's wild carols are heard from the thorn. 
 
 Lov'd daisy, why bow thy sweet head to the gale ? 
 
 Tho' wet with the night dew, thy beauties yet live ; 
 Again shall thy modesty spread o'er the vale, 
 
 And the sun's bright refulgence thy colours revive. 
 
 It is thus with mankind : 'in his earliest state, 
 In her arms the fond mother her infant entwines, 
 
 While the child wrapt in sickness, and smiling at fate, 
 All wet with her tears, on her bosom reclines. 
 
 But transient affliction to joy soon gives place, 
 
 When the sunshine of health sheds its influence around. 
 
 Again blooming innocence dimples his face, 
 And angels benignant the cradle surround.
 
 Y O U T PL 
 
 Exemplified in a Description of Noox. 
 
 O thy shade, spreading oak, with my flock I'll repair, 
 My refuge at noon from the sun's scorching beam, 
 The butterfly waves his rich colours in air, 
 
 And the hay newly mown, with sweet fragrance teems, 
 
 Now sad down the valley, indignant and slow, 
 
 
 
 The kine faintly move and pursue their lone way, 
 The stream's glassy surface is scarce seen to flow, 
 And the rose in full elegance bursts on the day* 
 
 And hark ! from the inmost recess of the grove, 
 I hear Edwin's voice, 'tis his sorrowful strain ; 
 
 His notes I well know, they are soften'd by love, 
 And mournful for Hebe thus sadly complain. 
 
 " Fly swiftly, ye moments, bring on the grey eve, 
 
 " For day, without Hebe, is joyless to me, 
 " In her converse so pleasing I raptures receive, 
 
 When by moon-light we meet 'neath the sycamore tree, 
 
 * 
 
 B 2
 
 " With Gratitude's tear I'll her kindness repay, 
 " Twas here, in this grove, I first told her I lovM, 
 
 " And ever remember'd be that happy day, 
 
 " The day on which Hebe my passion approved." 
 
 Proceed, blooming shepherd, you haste to your prime, 
 In the noon of thy life smiling Cupid embrace, 
 
 For the boy's airy wings shall be clipp'd by old Time, 
 And his scythe will each youthful sensation erase.
 
 MANHOOD. 
 
 i 
 
 Exemplified in a Description of EVENING. 
 
 nn 
 
 J. HE rays of bright Phoebus inverted display'd, 
 Reflect their last beams on the brow of the hill, 
 The lowing of cattle is heard from the glade, 
 
 And ceas'd are the labours late heard at the mill 
 
 O'er the breath of the pasture the beetle swift sails, 
 And humming proclaims the mild evening at hand ; 
 
 The leaves are all ruffled by murmuring gales, 
 And zephyrs, rich scented, their odours expand. 
 
 Now bright o'er the mountains mild Luna appears, 
 . Slow rising in majesty, still arid serene, 
 She mounts on the clouds, as all nature she cheers, 
 And rivers bespanglM reflect the bright scene. 
 
 Thus rises in wisdom the science-fraught youth, 
 By virtue directed he clears error's mist, 
 
 To him are laid open the pages of truth, 
 Though envy and prejudice vainly resist.
 
 6 
 
 
 
 When arriv'd at his zenith he shines on the ^world, 
 Till death blights his laurels, and lost is his. name ; 
 
 But glories hereafter to man are unfurl'd, 
 Surpassing the transient possession of fame. 
 
 Then consider that manhood draws near to thy end, 
 Nor shrink at the hasty approaches of night ; 
 
 Thou shalt mount on the clouds which to Heaven ascends, 
 And explore, undisturbed, the blest regions of light,
 
 7 
 AGE. 
 
 Exemplified in a Description of NIGHT. 
 
 T < 
 HE owl from the tower at midnight descends, 
 
 The bat, cloath'd in darkness, his prey swift pursues, 
 Sweet sleep's balmy treasures o'er nations extends, 
 On grief-furrowM eye-lids her blessings she strews. 
 
 The watch dog incessant the welkin alarms, 
 
 The raven's loud screams pierce the concave of night, 
 
 While fancy shews Hecate preparing her charms, 
 By the vapour's blue flame, or the glow-worm's pale 
 light. 
 
 Now loud rolls the thunder, red lightning is seen, 
 And horror o'er nature indignantly reigns ; 
 
 But morning again shall enliven the scene, 
 
 And Sol with his presence shall gladden the plains. 
 
 So man, as the hours, swift glides to his end, 
 His morning of infancy hastens to noon ; 
 
 How vain their pursuit, who for honors contend, 
 When the bud of perfection is blasted so soon.
 
 8 
 
 What avail the wish'd bays, which, erst pleas'd as he sung, 
 That were wont o'er the brows of his manhood to wave, 
 
 From age he must sink to the earth whence he sprung, 
 And the Muse be forgot in the night of the grave. 
 
 
 
 But Death's fatal arrows in darkness shall rust, 
 And soon shall the system of nature decay, 
 
 The globe and its tpmplps shall moulder to dust, 
 And night shall be lost in the glories of day,
 
 9 
 
 THE 
 
 FATHER'S TALE. 
 
 ATTEND, my child, while I relate 
 A tale, to win thy artless ear ; 
 
 May ne'er misfortune thee await, 
 Nor dim thy eye-lids with a tear. 
 
 In fair Glamorgan's fertile vale 
 
 * 
 
 There dwelt a happy rural pair, 
 Their crops were seldom known to fail, 
 Their farm and stock their chiefest care. 
 
 The modest snow-drop there was seen, 
 To grace their little humble cot, 
 
 The yellow cowslip deck'd the green, 
 And violets perfum'd the spot. 
 
 One lovely girl their union crown'd, 
 Of aspect sweet, and temper mild, 
 
 The playful loves the chaplet bound, 
 And nature all around them smil'd.
 
 10 
 
 But who can tell the ways of fate, 
 Or say, to-morrow shall be fair ; 
 
 To-day our joys may be elate, 
 
 The next consign'd to grief aud care. 
 
 Twelve years are past since all was lost, 
 And ills in dire succession rose ; 
 
 The bud of hope, misfortune cross'd, 
 And brought their evening to a close. 
 
 A fever seiz'd on Strephon's frame, 
 The farm and rural cot were sold, 
 
 The savage landlord made his claim, 
 And barter'd pity's tear for gold, 
 
 Eliza daily pin'd in thought, 
 , None could the lovely victim save, 
 The noxious' breath the lily caught, 
 And sunk into an early grave. 
 
 The husband struggled with disease, 
 And soon regain'd his former store ; 
 
 Fortune, repentant, fann'd the breeze, 
 But ah ! Eliza was no more !
 
 11 
 
 Yet still the child remained and grew 
 In virtue, and in form as fair, 
 
 And though she ne'er a mother knew, 
 She found a tender father's care. 
 
 Thus ends my tale, but why that look ? 
 
 Why thus enraptur'd seek my knee ; 
 The rose I saw thy cheek forsook, 
 
 Yes, blooming Emma, thou art she. 
 
 Long may'st thou live, by me caress'd ; 
 
 - Oft has thy prattle grief beguil'd, 
 Thy mother dwells among the blest, 
 Thy father clasps his darling child.
 
 12 
 SPECIMENS 
 
 OF 
 
 PLEASING IN CONVERSATION, 
 
 JL HERE are various elegancies of manner, which 
 might be noticed in a treatise of this nature, on a larger 
 scale, hut as my plan is limited, I shall confine myself 
 to a few. The first and most conspicuous, is the art 
 of pleasing in conversation, for which purpose I shall 
 lay down such plain rules, as cannot fail rendering 
 every person perfectly agreeable, who strictly adheres 
 to my precepts. Independent of hems, short coughs, 
 and significant gestures, there are numerous graces 
 at the commencement of a conversation, that may 
 be used to great advantage, they serve as a kind of 
 prologue to the entertainment, such as twisting butr 
 tons, flirting fans, and above all, tremendous pinches 
 of snuff. 
 
 IF a lady or gentleman wish to appear very 
 learned before company they suppose totally igno- 
 rant of the subject, the art is very easily acquired 
 by a proper mixture of Romans, Gauls, ancient 
 Picts, &c. with occasional dashes of the divinity of 
 Homer, the elegance of Virgil, and other allusions to.
 
 13 
 
 the classics ; but be sure, whatever be the subject, 
 let your words be well chosen, and out of the common 
 vulgar tract, as for example : " Sir, though the ve- 
 hemence of your argument may vibrate on my tym- 
 panum, yet your mere oral assertions will never 
 undermine the basis of my understanding ; the Romans, 
 it is well known, found the Cattieuchlani a magna- 
 nimous and warlike community, and I maintain they 
 were the ancient Cassia : Ptolemy and Dio pronounce 
 them the Catuellani, and not unfrequently the Catti- 
 duduni." 
 
 . * As such, are two pretty words, properly managed 
 by young ladies from boarding-school. " Pope is a 
 charming writer, as such, I admire him." " She is 
 certainly an elegant woman, as such she claims atten- 
 tion." " The bonnet was described to me as parti- 
 cularly fashionable, as such I purchased it" 
 
 BUT what is chiefly to be admired is, the pleasing 
 way some people have of telling what they conceive 
 to be a pointed story ; their dispatch, taste, elocution, 
 and wit, claim particular attention. I shall therefore 
 present, my readers with an example, in order to 
 illustrate my precepts. 
 
 " AH ! poor Ned, I shall never forget him, he was 
 a droll feller; I'll tell you a good joke of his; you 
 knew Ned, I dare say a stout little man wore his
 
 14 
 
 own hair; zounds! you must recollect him, or you 
 recollect nothing ; a fine feller in his way ; his wife 
 kept the Rummer, and a pretty woman she was but 
 that's neither here nor there ; I say, I had been to 
 enquire after my sixteenth, I forget the number, but 
 that's no matter ; but I remember they told me it was 
 drawn a blank the 1 3th day ; I dare to say I look'd a 
 little queerish, Ned saw it directly. " How do you 
 do ?" said he, " Pretty well," said I, ' I doubt that," 
 said he, " What right have you to dispute my word," 
 said I, " I ax pardon," said he, and was going away, 
 but howsomever I did not like to quarrel with him 
 about nothing, d'ye see ; so I up and told him all about 
 it, upon which, shaking me by the hand, in his hearty 
 way " Never mind it," said he, " Worse hick noz; 
 the better next time." Ha! Ha! Ha! "Gentle- 
 men, my sarvice to you."
 
 15 
 THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL. 
 
 .OVE out of Portsmouth on board the Britannia 
 Fly a swift sailer an outside birth rather drowsy 
 the first watch or two like to have slipp'd off the 
 stern cast anchor at the George took a fresh quid 
 and supply of grog comforted the upper works- 
 spoke several homeward-bound frigates on the road 
 and after a tolerable smooth voyage, entered the port 
 of London, at ten minutes past five, post-meridian. 
 Steered to Nan's lodgings and unshipp'd my cargo- 
 Nan admired the shiners so did the landlord gave 
 'em a handful apiece emptied a bowl of the right 
 sort with the landlord, to the health of Lord Nelson. 
 All three set sail for the play got a birth in a cabin 
 on the larboard side wanted to smoke a pipe, but the 
 boatswain would not let me. Nan, I believe, called 
 .the play Pollzaro, with Harlekin Hamlet ; but d~n 
 me if I knew stem from stern remember to rig out 
 Nan like the fine folks in the cabin right-ahead 
 saw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper deck 
 hailed him the signal returned some of the land- 
 lubbers in the cock-pit began to laugh tipp'd 'em a 
 little forecastle lingo, till they sheered off. Emptied 
 the grog bottle fell fast asleep dreamt of the battle 
 off Camperdown. My landlord told me the play was 
 over glad of it crowded sail for a hackney coach
 
 16 
 
 got on board squally weather rather inclined to be 
 sea-sickarrived at Nan's lodgings gave the pilot a 
 two-pound note, and told him not to mind change 
 supped with Nan, and swung in the same hammock 
 looked over my rhino in the morning great deal of 
 it to be sure ! But I hope, with the help of a few 
 friends, to spend every shilling in a little time, to the 
 honor and glory of Old England.
 
 17 
 THE OLD MAID's PRAYER. 
 
 <L/ HASTE goddess of the silver bow ! adored Diana ! 
 behold a supplicant at thy shrine, pure as the icicle that 
 decks thy hallowed temple! O lovely goddess, thoit 
 knowest thou hast given me charms superior to most 
 of my sex ; yet let me not be too vain of my beauty, 
 and guard, I beseech thee, from the brilliancy of my 
 fascinating eyes, mankind in general ; for though I 
 shun them as the locusts of the earth, yet still I am 
 compassionate and merciful, and if it should again 
 happen, that I am left alone with Mr. Biggs, the 
 Rector, do thou uphold me in the moment of danger. 
 
 GRANT, I pray thee, that I may be enabled hand- 
 somely to provide for my cat Jane, and her numerous 
 little helpless family ; also, for Flora, my lap-dog, my 
 parrot, and four canary birds ! Increase, I beseech 
 thee, the contents of my card purse, and grant frequent 
 additions to my wardrobe. 
 
 OH ! enable me, by the exertions of my all-attractive 
 accomplishments, to plant the shafts of envy in the 
 bosom of Mrs. Lucy Perkins, who fancies herself the 
 queen of the village, and so far humble her pride, as 
 to make her confess rny evident superiority.
 
 18 
 
 I ALSO pray thee, celestial goddess, to keep my eyes 
 from wandering, and my heart invulnerable to the 
 snares of Cupid. Yet, after all, if it should please 
 thee to alter my condition, send me, I beseech thee, a 
 youth, blooming as the morning, and graceful as the 
 Belvidere Apollo, so shall he meet in me a virgin 
 worthy of his love, and the union be formed on the 
 basis of united perfection.
 
 19 
 
 PMINCE ROBERTA 
 
 (In Imitation of the Ancient Ballads.) 
 
 . 
 
 HEN summer's sun did sheen most clear, 
 And nature smiPd most gay, 
 The woodlark warbPd in the air, 
 And farmers turn'd their hay* 
 
 The bees in swarmes forsook $heir hive r 
 
 Old women tink'd their pans, 
 To take the troop the rustics strive, 
 
 With cover'd eens and hands. 
 
 The trout leap'd high, in purling streams, 
 
 To catch the gilded fly ; 
 The maids awoke from pleasant dreams ? 
 
 And men to work did hie. 
 
 Prince Robert cheer'd the wood-lands round. 
 
 With merrie men and steeds, 
 The bugle-horn was heard to sound. 
 
 And die among" the meads.
 
 20 
 
 Young Colin heard the bugle-horn, 
 His Prince he hied to meete, 
 
 And blushing like the rosie morn, 
 He did the party greete. 
 
 When thus he spake with fair deport, 
 And mind secure from care, 
 
 " You must be weary with your sporte, 
 " Accept a shepherd's fare/' 
 
 Prince Robert took him at his worde, 
 
 And to his rot did haste, 
 To share the pleasures of his borde, 
 
 And shepherd's fare to taste. 
 
 The cottage was an humble pile, 
 
 By Colin's father rais'd ; 
 The geese secure from fox's guile. 
 
 And lambs before it graz'd. 
 
 The father by the curate plac'd 
 
 With children was at play, 
 When Colin usher'd in his guest, 
 
 And merry men so gay.
 
 21 
 
 " Come, sit ye down," the father cry'd, 
 
 (Sic compliments were here) 
 " Partake our food, and let not pride 
 
 " Your noble bosoms share. 
 
 ** For what are splendid court and cit, 
 " But bustle, noise, and care, 
 
 " Were I a prince my home I'd quit, 
 " Contentment for to share." 
 
 Prince Robert heard, and smote his breast, 
 Said he " Thy words are true, 
 
 " Henceforth all pomp I will detest, 
 ' And spend my time with you. 
 
 * All in these pansied lawns Pll roam, 
 " With thee, kind shepherds, stray ; 
 
 " Pll quit my splendid house and home, 
 " For ever and for aye." 
 
 So this geud Prince his home did quit, 
 
 For ever and for aye ; 
 Ne more he dwelt in court or cit, 
 
 But did with shepherds straye.
 
 THE GAY DECEIVER, 
 
 G 
 
 'HLOE, a maid at fifty-five, 
 Was at her toilet dressing, 
 Her waiting maid, with irons hot, 
 Each paper'd curl was pressing. 
 
 The looking-glass her eyes engross'd, 
 .While Betty humm'd a ditty ; 
 
 In fact she gaz'd so on her face, 
 She really thought it pretty. 
 
 Her painted cheeks and penciled brows, 
 She could not but approve ; 
 
 Her thoughts on varied subjects turn'd, 
 At length they dwelt on love, 
 
 " And shall," said she, ** a virgin's life 
 " Await these pleasing charms, 
 
 " And will no sighing blooming youth, 
 " Receive me to his arms.
 
 23 
 
 ** Forbid it, love !"- she scarce had spoke, 
 
 When Cupid laid a trap, 2 
 
 For at the chamber door was heard, 
 
 A soft and gentle tap. 
 
 i 
 Cry'd Betty, " Who the deuce, is that >" 
 
 " Ay, tell," said Chloe, "true," 
 When straight a tender voice reply'd, 
 
 " Dear Ma'am, I dye for you." 
 
 What's that ?" she said, " O Betty, say, 
 
 " A man ! and die for me ? 
 *' And can -I see the youth expire ? 
 
 " O no ! it must not be. 
 
 *' Haste, Betty, open quick the door," 
 
 'Tis done,-^-and lo, to view, 
 A little man, with bundle stood, 
 
 In sleeves and apron blue. 
 
 "> Ye gods!" cried Chloe, What is this ? 
 
 " What vision do I see, 
 " Is this the man, O mighty love ! 
 
 '* The man that dies for me ? w
 
 24- 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, your ladyship is right,'* 
 
 The figure straight reply'd, 
 " And hard for me it would have been 
 
 *' If I had never dy'd, 
 
 " La, ma'am, you must have heard of me, 
 i' Although I'm no high-flyer, 
 
 " I live just: bye, at number one 
 " I'm Billy Dip, the <Jyer. 
 
 " 'Twas me ma'am Betty there employ'd, 
 *' To dye your lutestring gown ; 
 
 " And I not only dye for you, 
 ** But dye for half the town.'*
 
 THE 
 
 USURERS DIARY. 
 
 Journal for de Week. 
 
 SUNDAY. .^ Obuishness to be done de Christians 
 all out making holiday waited at home for Levihe 
 never come took a walk in St. George's Fields bad 
 
 luck all cle day. 
 
 
 
 MONDAY. At 'Change till two man in red coat 
 wanted to borrow monish did not like his looks- 
 called in afternoon in St. James's-street not at home 
 bad luck thought to have touched dere. 
 
 TUESDAY. Went to west end of the town bought 
 some old cloash took in gave great price for de 
 breeches thought I felt a guinea in de fob, left dere 
 by mistake only done to cheat me nothing but a 
 counterfeit half-penny sold dem again to Levi 
 took him in, in de, same manner, with profit very 
 good dat. 
 
 WEDNESDAY. Went to St. James's-street again 
 devil in the man, never at home met Levi scold me 
 about de breeehfes- not mind dat at all swore I
 
 knew nothing of de matter went to puff It auction- 
 well paid engaged at anoder in the evening found 
 out dare obliged to sneak off found a pair of can- 
 dlesticks in my coat pocket dropped in by accident 
 sold dem to Mr. Polish-plate, de silversmith did 
 well by dat. 
 
 i 
 THURSDAY. On 'Change -met de gentleman wid 
 
 de white wig wanted more monish let him have 
 it good securities like white wigs carried my ad- 
 vertisement to de newspapers signed Z. pretty 
 crooked letter dat always sure to bring in customers. 
 
 FRIDAY. Met my good friend Mr. Smash not 
 seen him a long time arrested him for de monish he 
 owed me-T-went home to prepare for de sabbath. 
 
 SATURDAY. Went twice to de synagogue re- 
 pented of my shins felt much comforted remember 
 to call in de morning on de man wid de white wig,
 
 27 
 
 / 
 
 MODERN SENSIBILITY. 
 
 iXQUISITE Sensibility, how shall I address thee ! 
 'Tis thou that squeezest tears from the eyes of gay 
 sixteen, and screwest up the mouths of elderly ladies ! 
 Whether thou travellest through the mazes of six 
 octavo volumes, or lurkest in the corner of a single 
 duo-decimo, thee I invoke to guide me through the 
 wilds of heart-rending labyrinths, and direct my foot- 
 steps over the brittle paths of sympathy. 
 
 "MAY I exclaim with the lady to the amputated 
 wheel-barrow, "Unhappy vehicle! little didst thou 
 " think at morning dawn, when greens adorned thy 
 " bosom, gay as thy painted sides, that ere six hours 
 *' elapsed for one leg lost, thy master should desert 
 " thee peace be with thee and may the coming 
 *' storm fall lightly on thy surface." 
 
 EXQUISITE Sensations ! Rich with the sugar-can- 
 died-milk of sentiment. Novel-writing is thy delight, 
 and the Errors of the Heart, Pangs of Parting, 
 Tears of Tenderness, and the Sentimental Scruple, 
 reign triumphant. 
 
 EVEN antipathies have, their use, in bringing forward 
 the latent sparks of thy animating fire, cats, old cheese,
 
 i* 
 
 red herrings, onions, and assafbetida, have all their 
 charms. In short, to sum up all the perfections of 
 Modern Sensibility, take the following recipe : 
 
 START elegantly, and scream delicately (if a lady) 
 at the appearance of a mouse or spider ; cry, if you 
 have not your proper title given to you ; he out of 
 humour at the smallest neglect in the etiquette of pre- 
 cedence ; be tremblingly alive to sentiment, evert 
 when extended to inanimate objects; use a redun- 
 dancy of action in the recital of a pathetic story ; and 
 cases of real distress, kindly recommend to the atten- 
 tion of your friends,
 
 '29 
 
 THE 
 
 ACTRESSES PRAYER. 
 
 .EAR me, dramatic sisters, gay THALIA, and 
 sublime MELPOMENE, be Guardians to your suppli- 
 cant, and aid her in her profession ; well you know 
 the hair-breadth 'scapes I have encountered since my 
 Elopement and Trip to Scotland, evading the vigi- 
 . lence of my Duenna, braving the School for Scandal, 
 and venturing Neck or Nothing, for Tommy Trap, 
 the Tragedian. Oh ! he was a jewel of an actor, 
 the grand prop of a country company, the Side-wing* 
 as it were, of theatrical genius, and though a Poor 
 Gentleman, and frequently in the Road to Ruin, he 
 was the Pizarro of my heart, and I was to him the 
 very Obi of perfection. 
 
 BUT Tommy is no more ! ! The O. P. and P. S. 
 that marked his exits and entrances, mourn him, and 
 if he had failings, they are lost behind the curtain of 
 oblivion. 
 
 PROTECT, I beseech ye, our little community, and 
 may our shares be trebled ; divide the candle-ends in
 
 30 
 
 equal proportion, and give additional hones fy to our, 
 door-keeper, who I am apprehensive requires a large 
 increase of that necessary article ! Prompt, I beseech 
 ye, the towns-people to aid my forth-coming Benefit, 
 and open the hearts of the family of the Throg- 
 Mortons, so that they may all appear at the Theatre, 
 at an early hour, even down to Mrs. Dickens, the 
 Methodist house-keeper ! And lastly, I pray ye, 
 should I ever reach the boards of a London Theatre, 
 may my terms be as enormous as my abilities are con- 
 spicuous ; and finally, my labours be crowned with the 
 coronet of honor, and that I may become a convert to 
 domestic happiness.
 
 31 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO THE 
 
 S K Y - L A R K. 
 
 JHlARK ! from on high, what music charms my ear, 
 'Tis the sweet lark, chaunting her carols wild ; 
 
 Rising sublime, I love her strains to hear, 
 In notes full ton'd or plaintive warbles mild. 
 
 * 
 
 Mounting the blue expanse, she sweetly sings, 
 As yet the dying murmurs tremble nigh ; 
 
 But now full pois'd, again the welkin rings, 
 Till like a speck she charms the up- lifted eye. 
 
 Yet short the raptures proud ambition yields, 
 Her downy bosom, heaving pants for rest, 
 
 She drops again amidst her native fields, 
 And hails once more, her little mossy nest. 
 
 So the young bard, his towering hopes shall find, 
 
 Vain as the fairy dreams, that haunt the troubled mind.
 
 GILES AND HIS GUINEA. 
 
 s 
 
 AID Giles to his grandmother, chatting one day, 
 " I am going to Lunnun to-morrow." 
 Ah ! lad, thee'lt repent it," his grandmother said, 
 " And leave it with sighs and with sorrow. 
 
 " If I might advise thee, ne'er ramble to town> 
 
 " But e'en as a pestilence shun it, 
 " The rogues there will steal the teeth out of thy head 
 
 " And laugh at thee when they have done it." 
 
 However, friend Giles to the capital went, 
 
 Resolving to guard against plunder, 
 Till passing St. Paul's in the midst of the day, 
 
 The fabric attracted his wonder. 
 
 A sharper observ'd him, and instant turn'd out, 
 
 His pockets quite bare to the lining ; 
 Giles knew what the fellow was at, and turn'd round 
 1 Quite cool, without care or repining.
 
 " My lad, it won't do, I am not such a fool, 
 
 " To be rifled by such a poor ninny, 
 " What money I have, boy, Ise clapp'd in my mouth, 
 
 " And that, master Sharp, is a Guinea \" 
 
 The rogue he retir'd, and soon met a boy, 
 
 Brought up to the thieving profession ; 
 " The guinea," he told him, "some scheme must remove, 
 
 " To get it in rightful possession." 
 
 " Enough," said the boy^ " That's the man in the frock, 
 
 
 
 '" His cunning shall quickly be humbled," 
 Then rattling some halfpence along on the stones, 
 Flat down before Giles the lad tumbled. 
 
 " O dear ! where's mv money ?" the urchin roar'dout, 
 
 .' / 
 
 " My mammy will make me deplore it." 
 The crowd gather'd round, to pick up the loose cash, 
 And Giles lent a hand to rest6re it. 
 
 " There, -there is thy money /* said simpleton Giles, 
 
 " Hold it faster nor more be a ninny." 
 " Yes, here are my halfpence, young Hopeful reply 'd; 
 
 " But where, you old thief, is my guinea ?" 
 
 * D
 
 34- 
 
 " Good people, he put it just now in his mouth," 
 
 " A lie, I detest beyond measure/' 
 The people drew up, and with resolute gripe, 
 
 Brought forward the glittering treasure. 
 
 Then gave it the boy, who right joyful ran off, 
 
 And turning to Giles all their fury, 
 They pelted with mud, but he took to his heels, 
 
 And escaped to the regions of Drury. 
 
 " Of Lunnun," said Giles, " I believe what she said, 
 " When my grandmother warn'd me to shun it ; 
 
 " For zartainly thieves here in town steal your teeth, 
 " And laugh at you when they have done it.
 
 37 
 
 But hard is the task to describe 
 
 Perfection ; since Laura's my theme, 
 
 A theme fit for swains who imbibe, 
 
 Rich draughts from pure Helicon's stream ! 
 
 Yet why should I droop and despair ? 
 
 r fis nature that dictates my lays, 
 If I gain but the smiles of my fair, 
 
 I envy not Ovid his bays. 
 
 Let tlje bards from the nations around, 
 For Laura their efforts combine ; 
 
 Though their stanzas more lofty may sound, 
 Yet are they so artless as mine ?
 
 , , '- 38 
 
 PART II, 
 
 .MANDA calls Laura away, 
 To visit her eglantine bow'rs, 
 I know they are costly and gay^ 
 
 Yet they are not so tranquil as ours. 
 
 And wilt thou these jessamines leave, 
 These walks and this rural recess ? 
 
 And shall I not pensively grieve, 
 
 When the thought my ideas impress ? 
 
 You say that you'll quickly return, 
 But moments are ages to me ; 
 
 How joyless the murmuring bourn, 
 When its banks are deserted by thee. 
 
 The charms of our bower will fade, 
 Its beauties no longer be seen, 
 
 And each flower in sorrow displayed, 
 Will droop on yow favourite green.
 
 39 
 
 By the side of some lone distant brake, 
 Your flocks will in sadness recline, 
 
 And their favourite vallies forsake, 
 Yet what are their feelings to mine ? 
 
 No more shall the morning delight, 
 Till Laura returns to the vale ; 
 
 But Philomel, Silence, and Nighty 
 Shall witness my sorrowful tale.
 
 40 
 PART III. 
 
 L. 
 
 iAY down the blithe pipe and the reed, 
 
 . i 
 And cease the gay pastoral song, 
 
 My flocks may stray over the mead, 
 Since Laura has quitted their throng. 
 
 My Laura, ye lambkins, is gone, 
 
 Yet forbear ye to bleat and complain, 
 
 Though your Shepherdess thus you bemoan ; 
 Yet Damon must with you remain. 
 
 You shall not stray over the mead, 
 
 i 
 Though Laura has quitted your throng, 
 
 I'll take up my pipe and my reed, 
 And murmur my pastoral song. 
 
 My crook on my arm I'll recline. 
 
 While the brook it shall mournfully glide ; 
 
 You shall mingle your sorrows with mine, 
 And Til watch the whole day by your side.
 
 41 
 
 But when she returns to her charge, 
 To tend her lov'd lambkins again, 
 
 All free, you shall frolic at large, 
 And jocund, bound over the plain. 
 
 All nature shall share in the joy, 
 
 Each youth shall attune his blithe reed, 
 
 No cares shall our pleasures annoy, 
 Gay mirth shall preside o'er the mead.
 
 PART IV. 
 
 TR1KE the tabor, and breathe the blithe flute, 
 Let horns in full melody sound, 
 Awake the soft notes of the lute, 
 While harmony flutters around, 
 
 Ye birds your sweet carols prepare, ' 
 Proclaim the fond tale of your loves, 
 
 And warble each soul-thrilling air, 
 For Laura returns to your groves. 
 
 I'll bring forth her posy-wreath'd crook, 
 From the cell of yon mouldering rock, 
 
 And her charge with a mild lambent look, 
 Shall welcome her back to the flock. 
 
 I'll pluck the green myrtle and rose, 
 And cull each gay flower with care, 
 
 And their beauties in order dispose, 
 A chaplet to wreathe for my fair.
 
 Thou bourn too rejoice, for again, 
 On thy banks shall fair Laura be seen, 
 
 And Flora the primrose sustain, 
 That dapples thy favourite green. 
 
 How bless'd, happy Damon, thy lot, 
 Would Hymen thy Laura empower, 
 
 To say she would ne'er leave thy grot, 
 Nor again quit thy jessamine bower,
 
 44 
 
 . SONNET 
 
 ON A 
 
 BUTTERFLY. 
 
 G 
 
 'HILD of the Sun ! by whose creative beams, 
 Thy latent form its slender bonds unstrung, 
 Oft has thy race enrich'd the varied themes, 
 Which bards at eve in sweetest numbers, sung. 
 
 When first an insect, crawling in the dust, 
 
 Faintly were seen those glowing spots of gold, 
 Then didst thou careful to yon leaf entrust 
 Thy pencil'd beauties wrapp'd in many a fold, 
 
 i . 
 But now from out thy silk-wove downy bed, 
 
 Where thy new shape awhile in embryo lay, 
 On buoyant air thy painted wings are spread, 
 Greeting, in splendour, the meridian day. 
 
 So feeble mortals this frail passage o'er, 
 
 Shall burst their earthly bonds, and disencumbered soar.
 
 FEMALE CONSTANCY. 
 
 Am 
 
 never," cry'd Ellen, " my Edmund, my love., 
 " Will I swerve from the vows I have sworn ; 
 " If e'er I forget thee, first choice of my heart, 
 " May I wander neglected, forlorn. 
 
 ^" No ! dear is the grove where my Edmund I met, 
 
 " And dear are the boughs that entwine, 
 " Where under the shade he first told me he lov'd, 
 And call'd me his Ellen divine. 
 
 " Believe me, the ivy shall flee from the oak, 
 " And the ring-dove elope from her mate, 
 
 " Ere 1 from my Edmund can ever depart, 
 " Or relinquish my share in his fate. 
 
 " May the day turn to night, and the stars fade away, 
 
 " And the winds their dread messengers send, 
 " -If e'er I desert thee, my dearest on earth, 
 " My guardian, protector, and friend. 
 

 
 46 
 
 Poor Edmund entrancM by the voice of his love, 
 
 Believ'd each fond word that she said, 
 , His eye-lids look'd red, and the brin'e 'gan to flow, 
 As he gaz'd on the beautiful maid. 
 
 " Ah ! cease thus protesting," reply'd the fond youth, 
 " Such a thought my true breast could ne'er harbour 
 
 But alas ! the fair Ellen, in less than a week, 
 Left him and elop'd with a barber !
 
 47 
 
 THE 
 
 FARMER AT VAUXHALL. 
 
 FROM THE ECCENTRIC EXCURSIONS. 
 
 .N honest west-country farmer, after an absence 
 of several years, was called to town on urgent business, 
 which having finished, he resolved to gratify himself 
 with the amusements of what he termed Fox Hall. 
 He had a confused idea of being there when he was last 
 in London, but inebriety on the evening, and the time 
 elapsed since his visit, had somewhat blunted his re- 
 collection; he, however, particularly remembered 
 paying a shilling at the door, that being the only part 
 of the expence he bore on the former occasion. 
 
 OF course the first altercation was at the pay-bar, 
 three shillings were demanded, " three what !" re- 
 plied the farmer, " three shillings, Sir," "three shil- 
 " lings ! three devils ! what, dost think I'm mad ? I 
 " never paid but one shilling in the best of times ; so, 
 " if thee canst not let me in for that, I'll e'en turn 
 " back without seeing the show/' With this deter- 
 mined resolution he was returning to his inn, but en-
 
 48 
 
 quiring at a neighbouring alehouse the reason of the 
 advance in the price of admission, he was informed of 
 the wonderful improvements new cascades hori- 
 zontal lights Turkish pavilion tea and coffee gratis 
 and a variety of other inducements, that on conside- 
 ration of receiving his pennyworth for his penny, he 
 returned back to the gardens. 
 
 EVERY-THING fully answered his expectations, and 
 he began to think his money well laid out, but this 
 sudden change in his principles must wholly be attri- 
 buted to the brown stout he had copiously taken, at 
 the place from whence he gained his information, 
 which effects were considerably aided by the dazzling 
 splendour of the variegated illuminations. His dress 
 was far from being the most elegant in the assembly, 
 as the most conspicuous part of it was a thick blue 
 coat, slouched hat, and dirty boots, which occasioned 
 many sneers from the city beaus, in the course of 
 his perambulations, which were very little attended to 
 on his part, being too much absorbed in the reflection 
 of relating to his wife Molly, his London adventures, 
 to pay any regard to their superficial observations,. 
 After hearing the various songs, staring at the lamps, 
 crowding to view the water-fall, and enjoying the 
 rest of the amusements, his ears were saluted with 
 sounds much more congenial to his home-spun notions 
 than the empty display of gorgeous machinery ; in 
 short, the hurry of the waiters, the rattling of plates, and
 
 49 
 
 smoothing of table-cloths, suggested to him that some- 
 thing more substantial was going forward ; after a few 
 moments' reflection he resolved as he had begun, to 
 go through with the whole, and once in his life, to do 
 the genteel thing ; he accordingly seated himself in a 
 box, and called for the waiter ; being always possessed 
 of a communicative and open disposition, it is not sur- 
 prising that in a few minutes he found out the man's 
 name was Richard, and that he had been in the capa- 
 city of a waiter about twelve months, that he was 
 unmarried, and other similar important intelligence, for 
 which in return he politely favoured Dicky (for so he 
 familiarly called him) with the outlines of his own his- 
 tory where he was born, at what placed he lived, 
 and that he was resolved, for once by the way, to spend 
 a little money, as well as his neighbours, hoping that 
 Dicky would not forget to call and take a pipe, and 
 taste his tap, if he should chance to travel through 
 his part of the country, assuring him it would be worth 
 his while, and that he should have a hearty welcome ; 
 after many eulogiums on his wife Molly's brewing, he 
 concluded with enquiring what there was in the house 
 for supper ? 
 
 Two large wax candles being placed on the table, 
 the bill of fare was produced, after casting his eyes 
 over several articles, and smacking his lips as he spelt 
 the words in rotation, he at last fixed on ham and
 
 50 
 
 fowl, " because," he said, " it put him in mind of 
 *' whoame, for though he said it, that should not say 
 " it, Molly had as pretty a method of feeding pigs and 
 " poultry as any duchess in the land, let her be who 
 " she would, she was so uncommonly clever. And 
 " d'ye hear, Dicky, bring in some home-brew'd none 
 " of thy Lunnun tricks for me Fve seen the world, 
 " lad, so bustle about, mun, and let's have some-'at to 
 " begin with, for by the dickens 1 am nearly fa- 
 " mished." 
 
 AFTER waiting a considerable time, supper was 
 brought in, the fowl met with some degree of appro- 
 bation, but the sliced ham changed his countenance 
 to muscular expressions of the greatest surprise and 
 astonishment! he called loudly for his friend the Waiter 
 (whom he now believed to be little better than a rogue) 
 and holding up a slice of ham on the prongs of his fork, 
 he vehemently exclaimed, " What the devil dost 
 " thee call this ? why, I could eat zeven such little 
 " parings at a mouthful. D- n thee, don't play thy 
 " tricks with me, but bring me in the GAMMON." 
 " The Gammon ! your Honor ?" replied the asto- 
 nished waiter, " I do'nt rightly understand you, ' but 
 " I'll go and enquire at the bar ;" On saying this, 
 he slipped out, glad of the opportunity of making 
 his escape, for the enraged countenance and doubled 
 fist of the farmer, began to wear a formidable ap- 
 pearance ; after giving him a little time to compose
 
 51 
 
 himself, the man returned, and with the utmost 
 diffidence assured his Honor, that his master would 
 be very happy to accommodate him, but that such 
 requests were foreign to the rules of the gardens, 
 " Rules ! don't tell me of rules I fancy thee and 
 " thy master meak it a rule to starve people, and pick 
 " their pockets into the bargain, and let me tell thee 
 " such doing is a burning sin and a sheame, and both 
 " o'thee ought to be ducked i'the mill pond." " I as- 
 " sure, your honor, it is not our intention to impose 
 " on any one, would your honor choose any thing 
 
 " else ?" 
 
 
 
 So many honors began to soften our country hero 
 into a tolerable good humour, and to make some 
 amends for the loss of the gammon, he ordered an 
 additional fowl, with a few tarts and cheese-cakes, 
 and at the same time a bottle of the best old port, a 
 pipe, a paper of tobacco, and a lantern ; the refusal of 
 the latter articles, on account of smoaking not being 
 allowed, had nearly occasioned a fresh gust of passion, 
 but on being clearly convinced that it was not genteel, 
 he reconciled himself tohis fate. After enjoying himself 
 about an hour and a half (by which time he had com- 
 pletely finished his bottle) he deemed it necessary to 
 call for the bill; when it appeared, the different items 
 were truly alarming ! but what seemed most to com- 
 mand attention, was three shillings for wax lights !
 
 this last charge produced the following elegant ad- 
 dress to the waiter : " Thou 1 rascal ! if thee comst 
 " into our country, I'll have thee hanged idoir t think 
 " I'm in a passion! but mind what I say, I don't 
 " care for thy long bill half a farthing because why ? 
 " I've got money in my pocket to pay for it, (more 
 " than thee hast, Fll be bound) ; yet, at the same 
 " time, I canna but say that it hurts me sorely to pay 
 " three shillings for these two farding candles !'. but 
 " however thee shall get nothing by it, so bring me in 
 " another bottle, for here I'll sit till they are burnt 
 " down in their sockets, and if ever thee catchest me 
 " doing the genteel thing again, may I never more see 
 " whoame, nor my wife Molly." He kept strictly to 
 his word, and for many years related his cruel treat- 
 ment at Fox-Hall, in his own chimney corner.
 
 JULIA's TOMB. 
 
 s 
 
 LOW through the church-yard's mazy paths I stray, 
 There seek the yew-tree's melancholy gloom, 
 Where spirits beckoning seem to point the way, 
 The lonely walk that leads to JULIA'S TOMB. 
 
 And lo ! the friendly epitaph display'd, 
 
 
 'Adorns the bosom of the sculptor's urn, 
 
 Telling the shepherd and the rural maid, 
 What Julia was who never shall return. 
 
 Forgive the bard, although the effort's vain, 
 Who dares to raise the sympathetic lay, 
 
 Tho' lost with Shenstone is th' elegiac strain, 
 And loose, unstrung, reclines the lyre of Gray. 
 
 Yet, when fair A r irtue animates the line, 
 
 Say, shall the Muse withhold her wonted fire ? 
 
 When cherubs drooping o'er the urn recline, 
 Shall she unwilling strike the golden lyre ?
 
 Here rests a maid, who erst the village charm'd, 
 From whose remains the virgin lily springs, 
 
 Emblem of her, who Envy's power disaftn'd, 
 While round her turf the tender Robin sings, 
 
 Chaunt your sweet vespers thro' the ambient air, 
 Ye wild companions of the tufted grove, 
 
 Sing how your Julia once was heavenly fair, 
 Form'd of compassion, tenderness, and love. 
 
 Oft' have I seen her, when a sparrow fell, 
 Weep o'er the bird full many a crystal tear ; 
 
 Then in soft strains its fate to Stella tell, 
 Or deck with flowers the little funeral bier r 
 
 And shall no fostering hand one chaplet weave, 
 To deck, sweet maid, thy peaceful marble shrine 
 
 From Edwin's hand this cypress wreath receive, 
 This, roupd thy tomb, thy Edwin shall entwine. 
 
 Yet what avails the Muse's plaintive song ? 
 
 Can she to life these lov'd remains restore * 
 These mould'ring relics, to the. earth belong, 
 
 The young, the lovely Julia is no more !
 
 65 
 
 Her placid eye, bright as the orient day, 
 Too finely wrought for such a world as this, 
 
 Was clos'd by 'Saints who bore her form away, 
 Serenely gliding through the realms of bliss. 
 
 '.' V V l > ' 
 
 By Fancy form'd, I view her from above, 
 Bending from clouds, her lover to implore, 
 
 Breathing rich fragrance of seraphic love, 
 
 And .soft pronouncing " Edwin, sigh no more." 
 
 " Look o'er Religion's wide extended page, 
 
 ** Where Faith, triumphant, shews th' up-lifted cross ; 
 
 " Let hope of future bliss thy grief assuage, 
 f Think Julia lives, nor more deplore thy loss."
 
 THE 
 
 CASTJLE OF ERASMUS 
 
 OR, 
 
 J3ERTRAND AND ELIZA. 
 
 A LEGENDARY TALE, 
 
 JL HE pipe was mute in the vallies, and the hills 
 were no longer responsive to the vocal reed. Three 
 years had elapsed since the young and generous Ber- 
 trand was assassinated hy Caled, near the Castle of 
 Erasmus ; his lance hung inverted on his tomb, and 
 his honors were mingled with the dust of his fathers. 
 
 " O when shall my sufferings end, and this grief- 
 " worn frame return to its kindred clay ! !",-r-It was 
 the voice of the amiable Eliza, offering her evening 
 orisons at the shrine of her beloved Bertrand. 
 
 SILENCE held her wide domain throughout the fer- 
 tile plains, save where the distant watch-dog marked 
 the rural hamlet Cynthia had gained the summit 
 of her azure throne, and smiled in lucid majesty o'er
 
 ,57 
 
 the blue expanse all nature aided the solemnity ! 
 A vista of aged oaks led to a cluster of spreading firs, 
 discovering a marble sepulchre, adorned with military 
 trophies. The beautiful Eliza, amiable in sorrows, and 
 patient in affliction, graced the awful scene : She was 
 kneeling in a posture of adoration and prayer, her sable 
 garments drooped in melancholy folds, the tear of 
 affliction stood in her languid eye, and the cypress 
 groves reiterated the sighs of a broken heart. 
 
 IN the midst of her orisons, Clifford (by whose com- 
 mand the assassination of Bertrand was perpetrated) 
 appeared before her ; rage instantly kindled on her 
 cheeks, and reproaches burst from her lips. " Barest 
 " thou, perfidious and profane, approach this hallowed 
 spot?" " Chide not, too lovely fair one", replied the 
 repentant Clifford, " it was love for thee that led me on 
 " to madness ! I beheld a favoured rival in the happy 
 " Bertrand I considered life, without thee, as an 
 " ocean opposed to incessant tempest ; but with thee, 
 " all that heaven could bestow, or I could wish 
 " I vainly thought one bar alone remained between 
 
 me and my fancied joys ; in a rash moment I em- 
 " ployed the cursed Caled to execute my fell design, 
 " he obeyed, took his reward, and fled ; since 
 " which time, peace has been banished from the 
 " breast of Clifford, and soon must the cold hand of 
 " death bring him to an expiation of his crimes."
 
 48 
 
 c< AND dost thou talk of love, abhorred assassin ? 
 " thou, who hast laid low the image of perfection ? 
 " Begone ! nor dare insult my Bertrand's peaceful 
 " shade." Eliza again prostrated herself before the 
 shrine, and Clifford, dejected, returned through the 
 avenue to the castle, 
 
 ALWIN, sirnamed the Good, who then filled the 
 throne, hearing of the sorrows of Eliza, resolved to 
 undertake the cause of injured innocence, by offering 
 a considerable reward to the champion who would 
 meet Clifford in single combat. 
 
 THE time of the approaching tournaments arrived, 
 appointed for the cause of Eliza. The circus was 
 crowded with spectators : the king was seated beneath 
 a canopy, emblazoned with the riches of the East, and 
 the constant fair one was placed at his right hand ; 
 every eye was centered on one object the injured 
 Eliza! Clifford appeared in the lists, and the trumpet 
 was thrice sounded ; a stranger instantly appeared, and 
 accepted the challenge ; his helmet of massy gold 
 covered his face, it was studded with diamonds, and 
 the nodding milk-white plumes shook defiance to his 
 foe ! his armour of exquisite workmanship darted a 
 splendid radience throughout the circus, and the blood- 
 red cross on his breast, displayed a knight, zealous in 
 the Christian cause ; the dignity and grace of his ap- 
 pearance charmed every beholder. Clifford, inwardly
 
 59 
 
 trembling, approached, the martial trumpets were 
 again flourished, and the champions engaged ; for 
 some time the victory was doubtful, at length the 
 powerful arm of the stranger laid the lofty Clifford in 
 the dust, and the circus re-echoed with repeated ac- 
 clamations ; his wound was mortal, and the crowd 
 gathered round him, even the injured Eliza sympa- 
 thized in the tears shed by the dying penitent. 
 
 WHILE all were attentive to the departing Clifford, a 
 man muffled in a pilgrim's habit, pressed forward, and 
 throwing open his garment thus addressed aloud the 
 vanquished champion : " Thou man of sorrows ! 
 " Behold in this disguise, the person of Caled, once 
 " thy vassal, at whose command I undertook the 
 " murder of the gallant Bertrand, if thou has enough 
 " of life to hear the event, attend and learn :" The 
 eyes of Clifford were nearly set in night, but agitated 
 by a thousand emotions, seemed to express a desire 
 to hear the narrative of Caled, who thus proceeded : 
 *' Urged by your entreaties, and the hopes of reward, 
 " I approached the wood where Bertrand was wrapped 
 " in pious meditation. Though bribed to murder, 
 " and bent on the horrid purpose, I relented, and dis- 
 " covered my intent to the noble youth, whom I 
 " pressed to depart. I have since heard he rendered 
 " himself famous on the plains of Palestine, by inlist- 
 ** ing in the holy way. You insisted on my privately 
 *' burying his reiuains in the grove leading to the
 
 60 
 
 " Castle of Erasmus. This I told you was performed , 
 " I received my reward, aird fled ; disguised in a pil- 
 " grim's habit, I followed Bertrand to Jerusalem ; but 
 *' my search was vain, for soon I heard that Bertrand 
 " was no more : Flushed with success, he joined the 
 " Croises, led by the gallant lion-hearted Richard, and 
 " fell before the walls of Cyprus." 
 
 HOPE, horror, and despair, alternately reigned in 
 the bosom of Eliza, during the narrative, at the con- 
 clusion of which, she fell apparently lifeless, near the 
 feet of the victor, who throwing off his helmet, caught 
 the fair one in his arms, and thus addressed her; 
 " Thou paragon of excellence ! 'Tis Bertrand calls 
 " thee back to life and love." At the well-known 
 voice Eliza awakened from her trance, and after wildly 
 gazing on his animated countenance, at length articu- 
 lated, " It is my long lost Bertrand !" Clifford lived 
 but a few moments after the discovery ; he received 
 the pardon of the injur'd pair, ind closed his eyes in 
 peace. Bertrand turned to the astonished Caled, and 
 embraced him as a friend ; every eye sparkled with 
 joy, and every heart participated in the happiness of 
 Bertrand and Eliza. And it is recorded in the annals 
 of the Castle, that Virtue shall meet her reward, and 
 Vice be humbled at her feet. 
 
 AFTER paying the funeral rites to the remains of the 
 unfortunate Clifford, the nuptials were consummated
 
 61 
 
 in the utmost magnificence at Alwin's palace. Eliza, 
 by degrees, recovered her native bloom, and the roses 
 again revelled on her cheek. Bertrand again displayed 
 his trophies in the hall of the Castle, and again assumed 
 the hero. 
 
 THE pipe once more gladdened the vallies, and the 
 hills were rendered vocal by the responsive notes of 
 the reed. Peace spread her airy wings athwart the 
 plains, and the vaulted roofs reverberated the sound 
 of the harp in the ancient CASTLE OF ERASMUS.
 
 62 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO 
 
 A PIG CAUGHT IN A GATE. 
 
 s 
 
 QUEAK on, sweet pig, and rend the ambient air, 
 To me thy looks are moving and sublime ; 
 I like thy Wild and deep impressive stare, 
 While on the gate thy slender leg beats time; 
 
 That clown I pity, who to music's charms, 
 (Lost to thy notes) indignant stops his ears, 
 
 Lifts in the air his coarse unwieldy arms, 
 
 And homeward grumbling to his cottage steers. 
 
 Him nor Falsetto, nor rich cadence moves, 
 
 Tho' heav'd so charming from thy dulcet throat, 
 
 To him are irksome what thy Colin loves, 
 The small shrill squeak, and lengthened nasal note. 
 
 To mem'ry dear, thy notes shall long remain, 
 So breathe, sweet pig, yet still a louder strain/
 
 63 
 
 TO THE 
 
 OWL 
 
 JL GREET thee, sweet songstress of night, 
 'Midst ivy I hear thee complain ; 
 
 I fear not hob-goblin or sprite 
 At midnight I list to thy strain. 
 
 I gaze on thy tea-saucer eyes, 
 
 Admire the twist of thy beak, 
 Thy wig, and thy aspect so wise, 
 
 Thy bosom and pinions so sleek. 
 
 Let loungers to play-houses fly, 
 
 Storace and Braham to hear, 
 I pity their taste with a sigh, 
 
 Too-whoot ! has more charms to my ear. 
 
 E'en Islington's notes Fll resign, 
 
 And Mara's, though critics may scowl, 
 
 Sublimer effusions be mine, 
 
 Give me the swedt notes of the OWL.
 
 FAMILIAR VERSES, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 GHOST 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLY SHAKESPEARE 
 
 TO 
 
 SAMMY IRELAND, 
 
 -O IVoe is me ! 
 
 To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" 
 
 HAMLET, Act. III. Scene I.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THESE Verses were originally published at 
 the period when the public mind was strongly 
 impressed in favor of the authenticity of the 
 Shakesperian MSS. and some time before the 
 detection of that ingenious though daring 
 
 
 
 Forgery. The lines acquired a considerable 
 share of approbation, and as the subject has 
 been revived by the recent publication of 
 Mr. W.H. IRELAND'S Confessions, the Author 
 reprints them here, in the hope that they will 
 not prove entirely devoid of interest.
 
 67 
 FAMILIAR VERSES 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 GHOST OF WILLY SHAKESPEARE TO SAMMY IRELAND. 
 
 A 
 
 ,H, Sammy ! Sammy! why call forth a ghost ? 
 Rather of Critics summon up an host ! 
 They, luckless wights ! indite for daily bread, 
 But you disturb the ashes of the dead ! 
 Peaceful I lay in Stratford's hallow'd fane, 
 Antf but for thee might yet enshrin'd remain. 
 " !Blest were the man," I said, " who spared the stones, 
 " But curs't be he who dar'd to move my bones/'* 
 ^Tis true, my bones lie unmolested there, 
 Yet still my spirit's drag'd to open air. 
 Rich in your prize, of praise you take your fill, 
 But Spectres yet may speak, and speak I will. 
 
 Oft have I conjur'd from the vasty deep, 
 Myriads of spirits at one magic sweep 1 
 And shalt thou dare with weak un-nervate arm, 
 To bind Will Shakespeare with a cobweb charm ? 
 His genius unconfm'd with fancy plays, 
 Where Avon's stream through fertile meadows strays ; 
 
 * Shakespeare's Epitaph in Stratford church, Warwickshire* 
 
 F2
 
 68 
 
 Laughs with the loves, the flittering sun-beam rides, 
 And through the boundless paths of Nature glides ; 
 Not lock'd in trunks, in ancient dlrtie scrolls, 
 Long shreds of parchment, deeds, and mnstie rolls, 
 Receipts for candles, bills, and notes of hand, 
 Some that you may ; but more, not understand. 
 Samples of hair, love songs, and sonnets meete, 
 Together met by chaunce in Norfolk-street, 
 Where, fruitful as the vine, the tiny elves 
 Produce young Manuscripts for Sammy's shelves ; 
 Dramas in embrio leave their lurking holes, 
 And little Vortigerns start forth in shoals. 
 
 To work, ye Lawyers, ransack all your deeds, 
 The bait is swallowed, and the public bleeds. 
 Freely the cash comes down ; lead boldly on : 
 The Book complete Four Guineas ! presto gone ! 
 More papers found ! ! ! a Neighbour here hard by, 
 An Antiquarian wight of curious eye, 
 Deep skilPd in pedigrees, well known to Fame, 
 Has found some writings in a hand the same. 
 The very dots, the stops, the self same SHAK 
 That soon must lay each quibbler on his back. 
 None shall their sanction to the truth refuse, 
 For if they'll not believe, they must be Jews. 
 
 Long fam'd for finding SAMMY art thou known, 
 With steady perseverance all thy own :
 
 69 
 
 E'en Hogarth * could not 'scape thy prying e y e '> 
 L<"> ! at thy beck, new beauties we descry ! 
 Tobacco-prints, and legendary tales, 
 Engrav'd on porter-pots, with crooked nails. 
 Impressions scarce, long hidden from the light, 
 And graphic wonders, bursting on the sight. 
 
 When late to Stratford you incog came down, 
 Peeping for relics through each lane in town, 
 I guess'd that something fresh was in the wind, 
 And thus to Davy Garrick spoke my mind 
 " Since you call'd forth the wond'ring Nobles round 
 " To yiew my Jubilee on Fairy ground ; 
 " To chaunt my praises in harmonious strain, 
 " And strut in Pageants through a shower of rain : 
 " Ne'er has mine eye in Warwick's country scann'd 
 * So learn'd a wight as Sammy Ireland" 
 
 The chair, the kitchen, room where I was bom, 
 All from old Times mysterious veil were torn. 
 I often thought, so steady were -his pains, 
 And from his work f, so certain were his gains, 
 He'd never give his deep researches up, 
 Until he found my spoon and christening cup ; 
 Some curious remnants of my mother's spinning, 
 My little shoes, and all the child-bed linen. 
 
 * Ireland's Graphic Illustrations of Hogarth, 
 t Ireland's Warwickshire Avon.
 
 70 
 
 So have I seen a Jackdaw in a yard, 
 With head askaunt some chosen spot regard, 
 Where deep enearthed, some dainty morsels lay, 
 Wisely laid there against a rainy day. 
 When hunger pinches, to the ground he hies, 
 Now cheerful hops, and then elated flies ; 
 But not contented, with his well known store, 
 He whets his bill, and greedy pecks for more. 
 
 But turn we now again to Norfolk-street, 
 Where Authors sage, and Commentators meet ; 
 To that fam'd spot where Dramatists repair, 
 And Antiquarians darken all the air. ^ 
 
 There sombre Kemble struts with solemn pace, 
 Then takes the chair with academic erace ; 
 
 O 
 
 Pronounces all are genuine, true, and rare, 
 While none to contradict his judgment' dare, 
 Who shall presume his judgment to disown, 
 Who makes my choicest dramas half his own ? 
 Who Mohawk like unfeeling cuts and lops, 
 Till Shakespeare's plays appear like modern crops ! 
 Then from the press comes forth editions new, 
 And JOHN'S additions meet the public view. 
 
 Next mounts sublime upon the critic throne, 
 A trusty blade, and true, yclep'd Malone. 
 He scorns complying sentiments to sham, 
 And boldly states the whole a downright flam.
 
 71 
 
 Tho' some declare he never saw a line, 
 
 And Against his judgment all their strength combine ; 
 
 Others attempt his doubting course to steer, 
 
 And Mister Stevens marches in the rear. 
 
 Burke, Sammy aids, and Sheridan the same ; 
 
 The latter, right or wrong, is not to blame : 
 
 For well he knows " all's grist that comes to mill" 
 
 And Vortigern can't fail the house to fill. 
 
 "Boy dell looks grave, and wisely holds his peace ; 
 
 For true, or false, they cant his fame decrease. 
 
 Now, Sammy, you of course would wish to know, 
 The Ghost's opinion, farther light to throw ; 
 For Shakespeare's sanction must have lasting weight, 
 And fix for' ever thy depending fate. 
 Give thee entire the Antiquarian rule, 
 Or spurn thee forth, 'indignant from thy stool. 
 
 Then know, my friend, to ease thy troubled mind, 
 Thy Willy's Ghost would fain to thee be kind, 
 Pll wave my judgment of the writings found, 
 Said to be mine, so long in darkness bound. 
 I'll not pretend the mystic veil to draw ; 
 Pronounce them forg'd, or pass them into law. 
 To speak the truth, I give it on my word, 
 For years long pass'd my Muse has felt the sword. 
 Such hacking slashing-cutting, here and there 
 Some parts press'd down, and others puff'd to air,
 
 72 
 
 That I make oath, and swear it on the spot, 
 I scarce know what is mine, and what is not. 
 
 If true, thy envied fame will quickly spread, 
 And Britain's honors wave around thy head. 
 liforg>di be prudent, vigilant, and wise, 
 Keep thy own counsel, and each threat despise. 
 But hold " Methinksl scent the morning air, 
 Abrupt we part, nor can I more declare, 
 Lo ! in the East, the glowing tints I see ! 
 Sammy, adieu !" FAREWELL REMEMBER ME,
 
 73 
 AGREEABLE DEVIATIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 I 
 
 THE TRUTH. 
 
 N a former treatise, I laid down a few rules for the 
 desirable art of pleasing in conversation. I shall now 
 resume the subject under the title of Agreeable 
 Deviations from the Truth. 
 
 These little flights of fancy have their beauties in 
 polite conversation, and should not be overlooked. 
 JBy the vulgar they are commonly termed Lies ; but 
 for the accommodation of delicate ears, I have been 
 induced to substitute a more refined title. 
 
 We meet with various characters, who, from a 
 constant habit of reciting a story, originally formed in 
 their own imaginations, actually believe the whole to 
 be real : What a happy pitch of true pleasure is this 
 to arrive at, what inward serenity must they enjoy, 
 while wading through hair breadth scrapes, miracu- 
 lous sights, and wonderful adventures ! I shall endea- 
 vour to give a specimen of this peculiar grace in the 
 art of rendering conversation agreeable. 
 
 SPECIMEN OF AN AUTHENTIC STORY. 
 " I remember the circumstance, as well as if it hap- 
 " penedbut yesterday, and it is now fourteen years since
 
 7* 
 
 ** I was first shipwreck'd in the Bay of Biscay. The 
 * 4 wind box'd about to all parts of the compass, and 
 " the night was as black as my hat ; I seiz'd the 
 " remains of the long boat, and floated fourteen days 
 " without sustenance. On the fifteenth, the back fin 
 " of a monstrous whale, drove me bump on shore on 
 " the highest part of the rock of Gibraltar; and I 
 " alighted in the garrison exactly at ten minutes be- 
 " fore two o'clock, P. M. to the great surprise of 
 " every soldier on duty. I was taken up as a spy, 
 *' and confined in the State Prison ; but as good 
 " luck would have it, I made my escape, by remov-r 
 " ing an iron bar four foot square, and descended 
 " from the battlements to the sea-beach, two hun- 
 " dred and fifty-eight yards perpendicular, by means 
 " of a small rope. I left Gibraltar in a fishing smack, 
 " and was soon after taken prisoner by an Algerine 
 " Pirate, and set on shore on a desert coast in Africa, 
 " there I was attacked by two prodigious lions, one in 
 ," front, and the other in the rear. With a reso- 
 " lute spring I actually leaped from between them 
 " thirty yards, and the animals killed each other on 
 " the spot, by the mere force of the blow, on meet- 
 " ing together in contact ! These are not a quarter 
 " of my adventures. But the best of all is, here I 
 " am, notwithstanding my wonderful difficulties, safe 
 " and sound in OLD ENGLAND !"
 
 THE 
 
 AGE OF FOLLY, 
 
 POEM. 
 
 Methinks I view the joyous crowd advance, 
 Entwine the wreath and lead up Fashion's dance 3 
 She airy goddess joins the mad career, 
 And Folly consecrates the giddy year.
 
 AD VER TISEMENT. 
 
 THE " Age of Folly" was first published several 
 years since anonymously, and passed through the 
 ordeal of Criticism without censure. 
 
 Alterations and omissions have been made, as 
 some Characters have faded from the public recol- 
 lection, and others have been removed by the hand 
 of death, from the attacks of Satire.
 
 77 
 
 THE 
 
 AGE OF FOJLLY. 
 
 I. 
 SING nor knights, nor heroes clad in arms, 
 
 What time the moon unveiPd her lucid charms, 
 Nor captive damsels rob'd in vestal white, 
 Nor rocking tower with attendant sprite ! 
 No ! nor the battlement with ivy crown'd, 
 The meteor's glare, nor dread sepulchral sound. 
 
 THESE hacknied themes, the sportive Muse disdains, 
 And wakes to FOLLY her unvarnish'd strains. 
 FOLLY incessant changing to the view 
 The pleasing object that all ranks pursue ! 
 Hail ! wond'rous age ! by various titles known, 
 By pride puff'd up, with vanity o'ergrown. 
 Incessant vaunting in high sounding ky, 
 The world gets wiser each succeeding day, 
 Tho' all can see, without prophetic lore, 
 That FOLLY triumphs, as in days of yore, 
 Gains hourly votries, at her motly shrine, 
 Who crowd her fane, and hail the nymph divine.
 
 Methinks I view the joyous crowd advance, 
 Entwine the wreath, and lead up fashion's dance. 
 She, airy Goddess, joins the mad career, 
 And FOLLY consecrates the giddy year. 
 Still hard's the task to catch each flitting beam, 
 That sportive plays o'er FOLLY'S rapid stream. 
 Fain would I sing the TRUNK * and varied ills, 
 That flow'd from taking Antiquarian Pills. 
 At first small doses, with great ease went down, 
 But larger boluses half choak'd the town. 
 Rever'd old lumber, cramm'd with varied store 
 Of Ireland's deeds, and legendary lore. 
 Small trunks give way ; avaunt, ye pigmy elves, 
 And skulk, neglected, on your narrow shelves ; 
 Boast not your outsides, nor your linings neat, 
 All trunks must yield to that of Norfolk-Street, 
 Where sire and son display'd its rich contents, 
 And tun'd their pipes to marvellous events ! 
 FoLLy, enraptur'd, heard the pleasing sound, 
 And spread the joyful tidings far around. 
 Round Henry's waist, she bound her magic zone, 
 And broad Assurance hail'd the child her own. 
 Then about nothing what a-much ado, 
 In proving what was false and what was true. 
 'Twas then Malone, ) with dread gigantic stride, 
 His critic arrow to his bow applied. 
 
 * Alluding to the fabrication of the Shakespearian MSS. 
 + Malone's Enquiry.
 
 79 
 
 And aim'd the shaft at trembling FOLLY'S heart, 
 Till Chalmers * rose, and wisely took her part. 
 
 But not alone to literature confined, 
 FOLLY pervades the mass of human kind ; 
 Alike she fosters all her numerous train, 
 From Hyde-park Corner down to Lukener'sLane ; 
 Together link'd, the merry group appears, 
 And patient Candour thus each foible hears. 
 
 Lo ! yonder Peer, nnable to decide, 
 Whether to walk, to sleep, to chat, or ride, 
 His aged eye on vacancy is bent, 
 'And shivering footmen wait the great event ; 
 At length he mounts his splendid vis-a-vis, 
 And twice five minutes seems in perfect glee ; 
 But soon by dull satiety sore galPd, 
 The scene to change, the little pony's calPd ; 
 Away he scampers, up and down the streets, 
 And smiles and nods to every nymph he meets ; 
 But nymph, nor poney, no, nor vis-a-vis, 
 Can kill that tedious daemon Ennui, 
 Till night draws on, and Parisot invites, 
 By graceful steps to opera delights ; 
 There fix'd in pit, he takes his willing stand, 
 The eye-glass shaking in his trembling hand. 
 Smirking applause as Hillesberg draws nigh, 
 While his star sparkles with each amorous sigh. 
 
 ^ * Chalmers's Vindication.
 
 80 
 
 When all these pleasing visions are no more, 
 And Drury's nymphs their patron lost deplore, 
 Ere thy gay spirit to its rest is led, 
 Some worn-out Venus shall make smooth thy bed ; 
 With blooming ftow'rets braid thy silver hair T 
 And smiling make thee her peculiar care ; 
 Sylphs shall with bergamot perfume the room y 
 And limping Cupids light thee to the tomb. 
 
 But now my Muse pursues her daring flight, 
 Where Faro's host in riot drown the night ; 
 Are these the beauties of fair Albion's isle, 
 On whom the sportive loves were wont to smile > 
 Where is the modest blush ? the tender sidi ? 
 
 O 
 
 The lips vermillion ? and the azure eye ? 
 Where fled the native roses of the cheek ? 
 The dimpled smile, and heaven-born temper meek 
 Wild gusts of passion rend the vaulted dome, 
 And Furies' spirits through the mansion roam ; 
 The haggard cheek, and pale unhallow'd brow, 
 Sickness proclaim, and order disavow, 
 Countess meets Countess with redoubled charge, 
 And Ruin, Rage, and Av'rice stalk at large. 
 
 One 'midst the rest pre-eminently great, 
 Squat, round, and fat, appears the Queen of Fate. 
 Just three feet square, with feathers six feet high, 
 On the pil'd stakes she casts a wishful eye,
 
 81 
 
 And scarce the turn of Fortune's wheel is told, 
 Ere her plump fingers scramble all the gold. 
 
 But FOLLY cloth 'd in varied forms appears, 
 And Inconsistency her standard rears. 
 Sad times, I ween, when Bishops learn to box 
 In spite of Paul's Epistle orthodox, 
 Who writes that he who holds th' important trust, 
 Should riots shun, be diligent and just ; 
 No striker, wrangler he nor given to wine, 
 Nor after heaps of filthy lucre pine. 
 But we'll suppose the Bishop oft' had read, 
 " Fight the good fight," and you have nought to dread ; 
 So finding that his limbs were strong and stout. 
 His Rev'rence fairly fought the battle out. 
 
 The scene to change, and give to satiresplay, 
 Suppose to Wesminster we bend our way, 
 To that fam'd Hall by princely Rufus rais'd, 
 Where Rancour's torch has oft with fury blaz'd, 
 Where wooden angels from the roof look down, 
 And seern to gaze on passing wig and gown ; 
 O might the Muse in law but give advice, 
 She fain would settle quarrels in a trice ; 
 Though vain the hope, accept in humble strain, 
 A simple anecdote, in language plain.
 
 82 
 
 An aged lawyer, fann'd by Fortune's breeze, 
 
 Had bid adieu to bench, to bar, and fees, 
 
 And dealt out knowledge from his ample store, 
 
 By ounces now, whence pounds were drawn before ; 
 
 When once a dame, who meant a knave to sue, 
 
 Came to the sage, and askM him what to do ; 
 
 He thus replyM, " Believe me, when I say, 
 
 " Should e'er a villain take my coat away, 
 
 " And would not quietly the loss repair, 
 
 " Rather than sue him, on my word I swear, 
 
 " I'd rest content, nor e'er my Coat pursue, 
 
 " Lest claiming that, I lost my Breeches too \ n 
 
 Again the Muse to literature returns, 
 Surveys the field, and with fresh ardour burns. 
 Hail ! Lady Authors ye, who Novels write, 
 And ye who Plays in summer months indite ; 
 Ye who compose in sweet romantic strain, 
 Whole reams of manuscript for Mister Lane, 
 Who bounds of probability o'er-leap, 
 And conjure daemons from the vasty deep. 
 How smoothly flows the mild instructive page, 
 When shades and spectres ev'ry thought engage ; 
 When daggers, death, and inquisitions dire, 
 Fill the wild brain with energetic fire; 
 Then does it please the Poet's eye to see, 
 Some deep-read Miss, in horrid mystery, 
 Trim her pale lamp, and fearful look around, 
 Starting with terror at each fancied sound ;
 
 83 
 
 But still resolv'd the ghostly race to run, 
 
 She reads and trembles, till the bell tolls One ? 
 
 Avaunt, ye shapes, that Grub-street story owns, 
 Y'clept Raw-Head, and mighty Bloody-Bones ; 
 No more Tom Hickathrift shall claim the bays, 
 Nor Giant-killing Johnny look for praise ; 
 For if to stretch the eyes like saucers wide, 
 To freeze the blood, and o'er the passions stride, 
 To cause the hair, like quills, to stand an end, 
 And horrid thoughts with horrid actions blend ; 
 If such be merit Candour's self must own, 
 TheMonk of Lewis, conscious stands alone, 
 Unless we bring, to fill a second place, 
 The Tales of Radcliff wrapt in mystic grace. 
 Say, who is that, that slyly skulks away, 
 And seems to dread the face of open day ? 
 Perhaps some statesman, conscious of his crimes, 
 With terror shunning truths of future times. 
 But hold, nor let us run our bark aground 
 Surely no follies in the state are found 1 
 
 O P t, sublime, to highest honors rais'd, 
 By Outs be-spatter'd, and by Ins be-prais'd. 
 Thee I address, nor deem the Poet wrong, 
 Who bids thy numerous virtues live in song. 
 May guardian angels of the charm finance, 
 Thy power increase, and ev'ry wish enhance ;
 
 84 
 
 May city merchants, pleas'd, thy influence own, 
 And guineas show'r to aid each coming loan. 
 The Muse inspired feels prophetic flame, 
 And wafts to ages P J s triumphant name ! ! 
 
 Far be the thought irreverent to pass 
 That mighty Thane, and true y'clep'd D s, 
 Before such worth, I feel I can't tell how, 
 And, filPd with admiration, make my bow. 
 
 How sweet the wine at Wim n gangs down, 
 
 When news of consequence arrives from town ; 
 There P t presides, and order guides the whole, 
 " The feast of reason and the flow of soul ;" 
 Nor shall the booted Gre e be forgot, 
 Whose coolness to the Don defiance shot ; 
 Nor patient Malm y, and his peaceful train, 
 Who went to Paris and came back again /// 
 
 What pleasures buz around a crowded Court, 
 Where Wit, Politeness, and the Loves resort, 
 Where sparkling eyes with richest diamonds vie, 
 And youthful Nobles heave the tender sigh ! 
 Where bags, and swords, and epaulets combine, 
 And full-drest Cupids silken bands entwine ; 
 Peers, priests, and soldiers, eloquence dispense, 
 And sweetest perfumes charm the ravish'd sense ; 
 But what avails it P E, to you or me, 
 When all this splendid pageantry we see,
 
 85 
 
 When all our odes and madrigals are spun, 
 You get some sack, indeed, but I get none ! 
 
 No longer hards in flowing robes array'd, 
 Their brows with wreaths, and locks with chaplets braid ; 
 No princess now presents the laurePd crown, / 
 
 Nor throned sages look with rapture down ; 
 No more the harp with dulcet notes inspires, 
 No longer vestals strike their golden lyres ; 
 But sad reverse ! fell ills invade the wight 
 Who dares in these degenerate days to write. 
 The brown-bobb'd critic, deck'd in blue-dy'd hose, 
 With peri in hand, and spectacles on nose, 
 Each month reviews some offspring of the day, 
 A quire of poesy, or a modern play. 
 
 A modern play ! exclaims some well-bred fair, 
 Surely no faults can ever centre there ; 
 All must the Author's charming influence feel, 
 So light, so elegant, and so genteel ; 
 / grant the whole assertion just and true, 
 And give to genius every merit due. 
 Yet some there are so niggardly of praise, 
 That dare bring forward Bards of former days, 
 That talk with rapture of an Anna's reign, 
 And boast their Congreve in heroic strain, 
 Preferring stale, abolish'd, worn-out themes, 
 To jokes from Reynolds, rich in bold extremes.
 
 86 
 
 To Morton's Muse close tripping at his heels, 
 And all the sentiment an Inchbald feels ; 
 To Holcroft's wildness Hoare's correct design, 
 And fine-drawn Cumberland's instructive 
 
 Can there be men so void of sense and taste, 
 On Congreve's wit, a moment's time to waste, 
 V hen droll O'Keefe, and Cobb, in merry strain, 
 With mirth and pleasure animate each vein ; 
 Say, what is Farqhuars or a Vanburgh's name, 
 All must give place to modern claims to fame, 
 
 Lo ! Holman comes, of praise to take his share, 
 In double rank of Dramatist and Play'r ; 
 A Public's plaudits prove that he can write 
 And please, while Operas * shall yield delight ; 
 While sweetly smooth the sanctioned couplet runs, 
 The haily-gailies, jigs, and dreary-duns ; 
 Nor yet unskill'd in pantomimic lore, 
 He knows the use of curtain, trap, and door, 
 Can catch applause from sophas in a nick, 
 Nor scarce can Reynolds shew a better trick. 
 In acting great ! like Kemble's, all his own, 
 He strives to fill the Roscian chair alone ! 
 When Romeo's plaints the tender rows delight, 
 He shews his teeth, as purest ivory white, 
 Soft flow the accents from his silver tongue, 
 Till nymphs, by hundreds, sigh with nerves unstrung: 
 
 * Abroad and at Home ; a Comic Opera.
 
 87 
 
 Each love-sick sempstress hails the youth divine, 
 And boarding-schools pronounce him monstrous fine I 
 
 More of the trade, though minor, claim a niche 
 In FOLLY'S fane, her altar to enrich; 
 But what are they to Managers august, 
 Who gaz'd with rapture on her hallowed oust. 
 To action rouz'd by raging thirst of gain, 
 Rais'd the proud edifice of Drury-lane, 
 Whose tow'ring roof drowns voices in a trice, 
 And strutting heroes look as small as mice ; 
 JE'en graceful Siddons, of majestic mein, 
 Appears the moving puppet of the scene. 
 S^iH oft' we find, when mighty ills abound, 
 That potent remedies with care are found. 
 Thus Drury-lane and Covent-garden hight, 
 Know how to value that fam'd motley sprite 
 CalPd Harlequin Hence Magic Fires* arise, 
 And Fantocinies j* charm the gazing eyes ; 
 Cartwheels and candlesticks full houses draw, 
 Plain Sense is banish'd -Pantomime is law ! 
 
 Tho' myriads still without the court await, 
 FOL^Y commands, and CANDOUR shuts the gate. 
 
 * The Magic Fire; or, Harlequin Captive. 
 
 + A Fantoccini introduced in a Pantomime, called Harlequin and 
 Oberon ; or, A Trip to Gretna.
 
 Fantastic Goddess, at whose shrine we bend, 
 O deign the Muse's efforts to commend ; 
 And should they chance a transient smile to raise, 
 Be thine the merit, and be thine the praise.
 
 CONVERSATION AT TABLE. 
 
 NDER the above title I shall conclude my In- 
 structions on the Polite Art of Pleasing in Conver- 
 sation : 
 
 WHEN you invite company to dine with you, be 
 sure to get some set phrases to the following effect : 
 " Come, Sir, you don't eat," " I am afraid you have 
 " proclaimed a fast to-day," " You see your din- 
 " ner," " Enough is as good as a Feast, &c. &c." 
 
 I WOULD also recommend flattering Eulogiums on 
 your children and relatives, as for example : The 
 lady of the house exclaims, " O my angelic Tommy, 
 " perhaps, Me'm, you have not seen my son Tommy, 
 " the finest child in the universe ! I assure you, 
 " Me'm, he is a charming creature, and exquisitely 
 " beautiful." A little contradiction from the husband 
 will, in this place, be highly necessary. " You may 
 " say what you please, my dear, but he will never be 
 " the genius that Henry is, Ah ! that boy's a pro-
 
 90 
 
 " digy ! I verily believe he knows every thing, from 
 "the Gulph of Mexico to the Adriatic Sea!!! 
 " Surely, my dear," the lady will reply, (if she has 
 any spirit) " You certainly must advance all this by 
 " way of downright contradiction ; Henry is certainly 
 " very clever, but in point of brilliant abilities, you 
 " cannot place him on a par even with his youngest 
 " sister Juliana Ariadne Maria Matilda." Let these 
 little bickerings end in an open quarrel, and your 
 guests will feel themselves highly interested. 
 
 THESE wonderful encomiums, lavished indiscrimi- 
 nately, remind me of an anecdote I once met with in 
 the North of England : 
 
 " A GENTLEMAN and his youngest son, a boy about 
 " eight years of age, were invited to dine at the house 
 " of a friend ; an enormous slice of pudding, to which 
 " the young gentleman had been helped, seemed to 
 " engross the whole of his faculties. The father took 
 " this opportunity of observing to the host of the man- 
 " sion, what a prodigy his boy was likely to turn out. 
 " ' Do you know, Sir, he has been all this morning 
 " exploring the works of Nature in your flower gar- 
 " den not a butterfly escaped his particular notice ; 
 " depend upon it, Sir, that boy will make his way 
 " through the world.* 'As to making his way through 
 " the WORLD,' replied the old gentleman at the head 
 " of the table, very gravely, ' I have nothing to say to
 
 91 
 
 * it, but this I am sure ofHe is in a fair road of 
 " making his way through the PUDDING!" 
 
 CORRECTING your servants before company is ano- 
 ther excellent plan for increasing the pleasures of an 
 agreeable society. 
 
 BEFORE the cloth is removed, address your servant 
 as follows: " So, Sir ! you are a pretty fellow to de- 
 " liver a message ; you executed your trust in a very 
 " faithful and diligent manner ! I say, Sir, what 
 " do you mean by it ? Ah ! you may well look con- 
 " fused! Now, you villain, you are laughing! I saw 
 w it, and it is in vain to make any excuse. What have 
 " you to say in your own defence, you ungrateful 
 " scoundrel ? Don't dare to utter a syllable ! if you 
 " do, you shall turn out at a minute's warning. Don't 
 " think I am in a passion. Pray, my good friends, 
 " excuse me, but it is really more than a man of my 
 " mild and peaceful disposition can bear." The lady 
 in this place should immediately take up the quarrel : 
 " Indeed, my dear, we have a deal to put up with ; 
 " no one can judge, but those who have had the ex- 
 " perience. People had better be coal-heavers, than 
 " doomed to keep a set of idle servants." Let this 
 be the signal for withdrawing, with a thousand apo- 
 logies ; and in the course of three or four minutes, 
 contrive to make as much noise as possible, among
 
 92 
 
 the maids in the kitchen, so loud, and marked with 
 such symptoms of housewifery, that the whole neigh- 
 bourhood may be convinced of your superior talents 
 in domestic government.
 
 93 
 
 INVITATION TO LAURA. 
 
 Y, 
 
 OUNG Laura the witty, the sprightly and gay, 
 More fair than the nymphs of Idalia's grove ; 
 In the Moon's silver beams, let us frolic and play, 
 And Luna be sacred to Friendship and Love. 
 
 The nymphs and the swains are all met on the green, 
 
 
 
 Then come, my dear girl, in thy charms best array'd ; 
 A gloom clouds each brow till my Laura is seen, 
 Where she steps, joy and gladness are ever displayed. 
 
 Nor let thy bright tresses by Art be confin'd, 
 For Nature surpasses weak mortals' vain care ; 
 
 Let thy ringlets flow open, all free as thy mind, 
 And sport in the zephyrs that float in the air. 
 
 And now while fleet clouds intercept the bright gleam, 
 Consent, lovely Laura, my partner to be ; 
 
 We will dance on the banks of the moon-tinted stream, 
 Or round the huge trunk of this broad spreading tree.
 
 94 
 
 Then throw your shades stronger o'er this happy plain, 
 Chaste Dian, meek goddess of yon lucid sphere ; 
 
 For Philomel raises her warbling strain, 
 
 Proclaiming in song that my Laura draws near. 
 
 In mystical figure commence the blithe dance, 
 
 Let us trip in the shade of this broad spreading tree ; 
 
 My Laura's vivacity pleasures enhance, 
 
 For a smile from my fair is a heaven to me ! 
 
 Sure all is illusion, a fancy wrought dream, 
 The Gods stoop enraptur'd from bowers above ; 
 
 Thy shade stately oak, and thou moon tinted stream, 
 Shall ever be sacred to Friendship and Love.
 
 95 
 , TIMID LOVE. 
 
 THE TWO FIRST STANZAS FROM METASTASIO. 
 
 'ENTLE Zephyr as you fly, 
 " Should you meet my favorite fair, 
 " Tell her you're a tender sigh, 
 
 " But do not say whose sigh you are, 
 
 * 
 
 ' " Limpid stream, if e'er you glide, 
 
 " Where my Delia loves to dwell, 
 " Say that tears have swell'd your tide, 
 " But say not from whose eyes they fell." 
 
 Turtle Dove thy moaning cease, 
 
 Fly to tell my tender flame ; 
 Say you're the messenger of peace, 
 
 But say not from whose grot you came. 
 
 Resting near her favorite grove, 
 
 Close your airy silver wings ; 
 Tell her Lubin sings of love, 
 
 But tell her not whose charms he sings.
 
 96 
 
 Fluttering o'er her verdant bed, 
 Swift convey my fond despair; 
 
 Tell her all that Lubin said, 
 But do not yet awake my fair. 
 
 Whisper soft that in my grot 
 To love I die a willing slave; 
 
 Then let my Delia seek the spot, 
 And shed a tear upon my grave,
 
 97 
 JACK AT THE PLAY. 
 
 ACK Oakham was a seaman good, 
 As ever stood to gun ; 
 And when on shore was always first, 
 To join a bit of fun. 
 
 One night near Plymouth-Dock he stroll'd, 
 
 A play-bill caught his eye, 
 By which the TEMPEST was announc'd, 
 
 In letters three feet high. 
 
 * 
 
 Jack tho' he'd never seen a play, 
 
 To join the folks was willing ; 
 So straight he mounted up aloft, 
 
 For which he paid a shilling. 
 
 The curtain rosethe play commenc'd, 
 With thunder, lightning, rain, 
 
 The vessel with a horrid crash, 
 Was instant rent in twain. 
 
 That moment all the gall'ry props, 
 
 Gave way in sullen fit ; 
 And shower'd down the motley crew, 
 Right headlong to the pit. 
 
 H
 
 98 
 
 Says Jack, " If this be play, my lads, 
 " By Jove, I'll instant strike it ; 
 
 " It may be fun for ought I know, 
 " But d n me if I like it." 
 
 Next year in London Jack arriv'd, 
 To make a few weeks' stay, 
 
 And stroll'd to Drury's lofty walls- 
 The TEMPEST was the play. 
 
 But slily in the pit he got, 
 
 Rememb'ring former folly, 
 And far remov'd from Danger's shore, 
 
 Determined to be jolly. 
 
 Soon as the well-known scene began, 
 And lightnings rent the skies ; 
 
 lie twisted round with cunning leer, 
 And upwards turn'd his eyes. 
 
 " Hold hard aloft, you jolly (tags, 
 
 " I like these jovial parties ; 
 " Mind what you're at, you shilling swabs. 
 
 " For here you come, my hearties."
 
 99 
 
 . Y gentle lamb, with placid eye 
 Surveys the up-lifted knife, 
 His heaving breast emits a sigh, 
 The sigh that yields his life. 
 
 Stay, cruel Coron, wave the deed, 
 
 Attend his plaintive cry* 
 Can Damon bear to see him bleed t 
 
 To view his Sandy die ? 
 
 I nurs'd him ere his panting sides 
 Received their woolly store, 
 
 I wash'd him where yon river glides, 
 And brought him safe on shore. 
 
 Twas there Cleora prais'd his fleece, 
 His neck with ribbands bound ; 
 
 Each look was love, each action peace, 
 And Sandy wanton'd round. 
 
 May Pity, while this tale you hear, 
 
 Her influence extend, 
 From Coron's eye enforce the 
 
 And innocence befriend.
 
 100 
 
 " The whitest of my flock I'll bring, 
 
 "If you'll ray Sandy raise, 
 " The Wood-Nymphs shall your mercy sing, 
 
 " And Pan shall tune your praise."
 
 101 
 
 SIR TOBY BUMPER, the RESURRECTION MAN, 
 and the BREWER. 
 
 IR Toby Bumper is a worthy member of society, 
 and a good companion ; he tells many laughable stories, 
 but perhaps the following is one of the most whim- 
 sical : , 
 
 
 'WHEN Sir Toby was a young man, a friend of his, 
 
 who resided in Staffordshire, and followed the profes- 
 sion of a Surgeon, wrote to him at his house in Lon- 
 don, to procure a subject for dissection, as he was 
 much in want of one. The Surgeon meant it merely 
 as a joke, but Sir Toby, instead of considering the 
 affair in its true light, literally applied to the men who 
 make a livelihood of such kind of traffic, commonly 
 called Resurrection Men ; after he had settled about 
 the price, which was to be two guineas, one of the 
 men informed him, that he had a pretty subject in his 
 eye, a brewer by trade, and as fine a muscular man as 
 you'd meet in a thousand ; but the worst of it was, at 
 that time he was living, though, from the nature of 
 his disorder, in all probability he could not exist above 
 a fortnight longer. ,
 
 102 
 
 THE Brewer, however, disappointed both parties, 
 and recovered. Two years had elapsed, and Sir Toby 
 thought no more of the business, when one morning, 
 about three o'clock, he was alarmed by a violent 
 knocking at the door ; equipped in his night-gown 
 and slippers, he went tp enquire the occasion, when 
 a fellow entered with a large sack, and threw it down 
 in the passage, with the salutation of " There he is !- 
 " I've got him !" " Got who ?" exclaimed the Ba- 
 ronet.-^-" Why, the Brewer, to be sure, Master." 
 " D -n the Brewer !" said Sir Toby, " What am I to 
 " do with him at this late hour !" " Have you got 
 " ever a hamper in the house, Master ?" " Why yegj 
 " I believe you may find one in the celler." A ham- 
 per was procured, and the brewer was deposited, bent 
 nearly double by the pressure. " Now, Master," said 
 the fellow, " a bargain's a bargain pay me two 
 " guineas, and I'll carry him to the inn." The money 
 was paid, and the man marched off with his load. 
 The poor Brewer was directed to the Surgeon in Staf- 
 fordshire, and sent the next day to his place of resi- 
 dence. Sir Toby had not time to advise his friend of 
 his new visitor, and it happened on his arrival that the. 
 Surgeon was out. The servants naturally supposing 
 the hamper contained wine, or something equally 
 pleasant to the palate, made bold to cut the cord, 
 in order to satisfy their curiosity, when up sprang 
 the .Brewer, who from his pressed situation, re- 
 ceived elasticity sufficient to throw himself upright
 
 103 
 
 in the hamper; the room was immediately deserted 
 yvith the greatest precipitation : a general alarm was 
 given, and the town was up in arms. The servants 
 were certain there was a man in the basket, but whe- 
 ther alive or dead, they could not positively say. One 
 country fellow, however, thought of an expedient to 
 reduce the matter to a certainty. He first peeped 
 through the key-hole, and was convinced he saw a 
 man sitting in the hamper ; he then, through a small 
 opening of the door, presented a loaded blunderbuss, 
 and discharged the contents in so effectual a manner, 
 that Sir Toby's subject was totally spoiled, and unfit 
 to .make the conspicuous figure intended in the Staf- 
 fordshire Museum !
 
 THE 
 
 GREEN LADY; 
 
 IN RHYME: 
 
 SERIOUSLY RECOMMENDED TO BE READ THROUGH THE MEDIUM 
 
 GREEN SPECTACLES. 
 
 A few green lamps, 
 
 " That feebly lifted up their sickly heads, 
 
 <c Look'd faintly thro' the shade, and made it seem 
 
 " More dismal by such light! " 
 
 Vide ROWE'S Ambitious Step-Mother.
 
 following Stanzas have not before met the 
 public eye. The author wishes merely to state that 
 he is not indebted to Mother Bunch, or Mother Goose, 
 for the formation of his plot; and, notwithstanding 
 some few improbabilities may have crept in, he flatters 
 himself it will not, on that account, prove-less accept- 
 able to the numerous admirers of Ghosts, Goblins, 
 Sprites, Spectres, Witches, Wizards, Fairies, Hobgob- 
 lins, &c. &c.
 
 107 
 
 THE 
 
 GMEEN ILABY. 
 
 'OME listen all who take delight 
 In stories strange and true- 
 Who love to hear the midnight bell ? 
 And fancy candles blue J 
 
 Ye little children straight draw near, 
 With hair right bolt on end, 
 
 Your teeth shall chatter at my tale 
 Then one and all attend. 
 
 In auncient times there liv'd a wight, 
 
 No Lord or Baron bold. 
 He little store of silver had, 
 
 And less had he of gold. 
 
 This humble swain he married was, 
 His wife bore children twain, 
 
 And scarce a twelve-month had elaps'd 
 Ere, she lay-in again.
 
 108 
 
 The third a little female prov'd, 
 
 All pretty for to see; 
 But how to bring these children up, 
 
 It griev'd him piteously. 
 
 One day he walk'd in doleful plight. 
 With sad and downcast mien, 
 
 At length he met an equipage, 
 The whole of which was green ? 
 
 The horses green, the servants green ? 
 They made a rattling din 
 
 Green was the colour of the coach- 
 The Lady green within 1 
 
 Now as this Lady she drew near, 
 
 She cast a verdant smile, 
 A smile that might the spring revive, 
 
 And winter's wrath beguile. 
 
 The coach it stopped she calPd the swain, 
 
 And bad him nothing fear, 
 " Here, take this purse of gold," she said, 
 
 " And with it buy good cheer. 
 
 " Go home, and tell your loving wife, 
 " Make all things neat and clean, 
 
 " To-morrow be the christening day, 
 " And I will there be seen.
 
 109 
 
 *' I know your wants before you speak, 
 " I know you've children three, 
 
 " And as the third I shall adopt, 
 *' Her sponsor I will be." 
 
 This said, she wav'd her grassy hand, 
 And vanish'd from the sight, 
 
 Which made him doubtful of his head, 
 If all within was right. 
 
 But still the purse substantial proofs 
 
 Did to his mind convey, 
 Which he into his pocket put, 
 * And homeward hied his way. 
 
 His spouse, not like some modem dames, 
 
 t With taunts the tale received, 
 But when he said the thing was so, 
 She instantly believed. 
 
 The time arrived, all things prepar'd, 
 
 The parson bless'd the feast, 
 And as the sparkling bowl went round, 
 
 The merriment increas'd. 
 
 The little babe was trimly brought, 
 Bedeck'd with neatest care, 
 
 But ah ! the priest could not proceed- 
 No god-mamma was there.
 
 no 
 
 Long time the christening was delayed, 
 At length the bell toll'd ONE ! 
 
 A certain-sign, time out of mind, 
 Some wichcraft was begun. 
 
 The candles ^limmerM in the wicks, 
 While horror reign'd profound, 
 
 The lightning flash'd across the room. 
 And thunder roll'd around. 
 
 The visions of the guests were green, 
 
 And green the Lady rose ! 
 Which brought the promis'd christening, 
 
 All to its destin'd close. 
 
 When thus she spake " The Baby's mine, 
 
 " FLORA'NTHE is her name, 
 " And her you must not see again, 
 
 " Till rais'd to wealth and fame." 
 
 This said, with hands as green as grass, 
 
 She seiz'd the infant prey, 
 And in a flame of copp'ras cast, 
 
 She bore the child away. 
 
 The Bard-must now a sanction claim, 
 To skip twelve years, or more, 
 
 He would not do so, on his word, 
 But Bards did so of yore.
 
 Ill 
 
 In Poets' art a maxim stands, 
 The Muse may conquer time, 
 
 The child we'll say is full sixteen, 
 Or more, for sake of rhyme. 
 
 This Lady green a castle had, 
 
 Y'clep'd the Mysterie 
 For magic charms, and midnight spells, 
 
 Long fam'd in Hisforie. 
 
 There oft the maid she left alone, 
 
 On secret purpose bent i 
 Nor ever once to her divulg'd 
 
 Her horrible intent ! 
 
 This castle had an hundred rooms, 
 Uprais'd by mystics strange ; 
 
 Of which exactly ninety-nine 
 Floranthe had the range. 
 
 But if the last remaining room 
 
 She ventur'd to explore, 
 The daring bold experiment 
 
 She sadly should deplore. 
 
 One fatal day she rov'd about 
 
 The castle's magic ground ; 
 New beauties to her eyes appeared, 
 
 And music b^eath'd around.
 
 1.2 
 
 She gaz'd upon the massy gold 
 That deck'd each lofty room, 
 
 Yet dar'd not to approach the last* 
 Or penetrate its gloom. 
 
 But ah, what Fair can shun the fate 
 
 The destinies decree ! 
 A softer strain from out that room 
 
 Increased the mysterie ! 
 
 Loud laughs and merry gibes were heard- 
 On which I dread to say 
 
 Floranthe softly breath'd and stept, 
 And onward bent he"r way. 
 
 Till, luckless hour ! she reach'd the door, 
 
 The key-hole met her eye, 
 But ah ! I tremble to relate, 
 
 v- 
 
 What thejre she did espy. 
 
 * 
 Forgive mo^ien, good people all, 
 
 If I the whole reveal ; 
 I'm sure you would the Bard condemn, 
 Should he the truth conceal. 
 
 Then listen all for there she saw, 
 
 (Oh ! horrid to relate ! ) 
 She saw!- ah ! say, What did she see, 
 
 That hastened on her fate ?
 
 fg. 113 
 
 She saw the glaring Daemons round, 
 In height of midnight revel, 
 
 And there she saw her ffod-mamma, * 
 
 | 
 
 A dauncing with the DEVIL !'!! 
 
 But soon, alas ! she dearly paid 
 
 For peeping without leave, 
 Which in the sequel you shall hear, 
 
 And will, no doubt, believe* 
 
 * w 
 
 A thousand Furies ghastly rose, 
 
 And seiz'd the trembling fair, 
 Their torches grimly flam'd around, 
 
 And sing'd her flowing ham 
 
 Long time she struggled to get free, 
 
 But struggling was in vain, 
 The lady, with a scorpion whip,* 
 
 Soon join'd the hostile train. 
 
 & * 
 Entangled round with hissing snakes. 
 
 She made resistance weak, 
 And oft' with pitious mournful air, 
 
 In vain essay'd to speak. 
 
 " Tell me, thou wretch," the Lady said, 
 
 "-What hast thou here espy'd ?" 
 When trembling like the Aspen leaf, 
 
 Floranthe thus reply'd : 
 
 i
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 9* 114- 
 
 * I nothing saw? I nothing heard? 
 
 " And nothing will I say ; 
 44 And nothing will I ever tell, 
 
 " Until my dying day?" 
 
 ' 
 At this the Lady struck her dumb, 
 
 And in a whirlwind's breath, 
 She cast her forth from out the walls, 
 
 All on a lonely heath. 
 
 Now as a Prince perchance rode bye, 
 He saw this child of woe ! 
 
 (But first I'd have you to premise 
 It happen'd long ago.) 
 
 This Prince he deeply fell in love, 
 Although the maid was dumb ; 
 
 That griev'd him not, for in a wife 
 'Tis pleasing unto some. 
 
 
 
 
 The marriage tites were soon perform'd. 
 
 He lik*d her manners mild, 
 And in a twelvemonth, more or less, 
 
 The Princess prov'd with-child. 
 
 Twelve chosen nurses all night long, 
 The cradle watch' d with care, 
 
 But in the morn, alas ! they found 
 No little baby there !
 
 
 
 :-* .,* % 
 
 Another child the same fate shar'd, 
 
 4 
 
 Bore off at close of night, 
 
 At which the Prince wax'd sternly wrath* 
 
 ^flk 
 
 As well indeed he might. 
 
 * . \** 
 
 He swore the nurses and his wife, 
 
 Should straight resign their breath, 
 And for the crime of witchcraft dire, 
 
 Sent out the whole to death. 
 
 .% 
 And now on scaffold high they stood, 
 
 The sharpen'd axe prepared, 
 When rattling round the spacious yard, 
 
 A clatt'rinsf din was heard. 
 
 ** 
 
 The Lady all in green drew near, 
 
 " Stay, stay your hands," she cry'd, 
 " For in my coach of green behold 
 
 " The babies by my side." 
 
 ^^H 
 V? ,. "^ 
 
 coach it stopp'd, and up she tripp'd, 
 
 where Floranthe stood, 
 And thus address'd the fainting fair, 
 In somewhat milder mood. 
 
 " What were the words to me you said ? 
 
 " This is your dying day ; 
 " The spell of dumbness 1*11 remove* 
 
 " Therefore, make uo delay."
 
 * 16 
 
 * 1 
 
 *" ^ "" 
 
 A sudden thought came o'er her mind, 
 
 That broke the magic spell, ft 
 
 Said she " Whatever I saw or heard, 
 " To no one will I tell" 
 
 Exulting, loudthe La4y cry'd, 
 
 " My friends, we all are free ! 
 " The dread enchantment is no more 
 
 " We live to Liherty ! 
 
 " Then to the Castle let us hie, 
 
 "' *.$ 
 
 " And nousrht but smiles be seen, 
 
 o 
 
 " While thus with joy I cast away 
 " My hated veil of green !" 
 
 * 
 
 The robes of green were instant 
 
 To dazzling white and gold ; 
 And now she stood a Lady fair, 
 
 Most beauteous to behold. 
 
 *l 
 
 That moment with a horrid crash, 
 
 And flashes deadly green ; 
 The Castle vanished into air, 
 
 And never more was seen.
 
 117 
 OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, 
 
 Spoken bij Mr. Shatfo.rd, , 
 At a Temporary Theatre, at Winslpw, Bucks, June 10th, 1788. 
 
 | 
 
 <* 
 
 & 
 
 UOY'D by success, o'er unknown seas we glide, 
 With sails unfurl VI we boldly stem the tide ; 
 Our little bark, with ammunition stor'd, 
 The crew in health, and ev'ry hand on board ; 
 Your smiles auspicious brought our vessel o'er, 
 May friendly plaudits welcome us on 
 
 The Drama long by partial laws controul'd, 
 
 (IL ^ 
 
 In Theatres select her stories told, 
 
 Without a LICENCE droop'd her trembling wing, 
 
 And at the voice of Justice ceas'd to sing. 
 
 ^fw 
 
 But now while Radnor sordid av'rice quells, 
 jwid Reason clouds of prejudice dispels, 
 Guarded by, him, again th' exulting Muse, 
 Shall tUi' the world her moral themes diffuse. 
 
 As when the rays of Sol with atoms teem, 
 
 w 
 
 And sportive Myriads throng the genial beam ; 
 So may the Drama's light true merit raise, 
 And we, though humble, play amidst the blaze.
 
 118 
 
 For you, whose hearts with tender pity glow, 
 The Tragic Muse shall picture all her woe. 
 Monimia's grief shall^ cause the flowing tear,' 
 And sighs await on young Ophelia's bier. 
 While for the jocund sons of dimpled Mirth, 
 Our Shakespeare smil'd, and gave a Falstaff birth, 
 
 r^P 
 In these our modern days, fresh subjects rise, 
 
 And Fashion's foibles Satire's page supplies. 
 Ladies start greyhounds, and present the gun, 
 Some in Hyde- Park, their six grey ponies run. 
 Wise reformation shews the knave the stocks, 
 Men digest stones, and Nobles learn to box ! 
 
 No more the knight his falchion wields in air, 
 And gains at Tournament his destin'd fair, 
 By dint ofjist he charms the anxious row, 
 And wins his princess by a knock-down blow ? 
 
 When good Queen Bess, the British sceptre sway* 
 Grave and sedate was each old English maid : 
 The darts of Cupid firmly they withstood, 
 
 And died with pleasure for their country's good. 
 
 f'-'if 
 i~ 
 Far different thoughts the modern Fair employs, 
 
 She sighs for trifles, and sheds tears for toys. 
 Peace flies her bosom when a birth-night's o'er, 
 When ball-room sighs, and Faro, are no more,
 
 .19 
 
 Dear winter past, thro' solemn woods she roves, 
 Dull winding paths, and melancholy groves. 
 Sighs thro' the summer in some lone retreat, 
 Till Fashion bids her all her joys repeat. 
 
 "lfc 
 But hold from looks so generous and kind, 
 
 May we not hope exceptions here to find, 
 
 Severity depart the Muse's school, 
 
 Our aim's to follow POPE'S unerring rule: 
 
 " Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, 
 u And catch the manners living as they rise/* 
 
 ft 
 
 &" 

 
 120 
 
 VE1RSES 
 
 Written in a Moss- House, 'or Hermitage, at Winslov, 
 
 Sucks. 
 
 To ALEXIS. 
 
 V V HEN at ease in this peaceful retreat, 
 
 To sweet contemplation you bend, 
 May the moss round the fancy-deck 'd seat, 
 Alexis remind of his friend. 
 
 If Damon rejoices, then you 
 Shall also blithe gladness display, 
 
 The sun from the moss suck the dew, 
 And pleasure preside o'er the day. 
 
 I 
 
 If absent, may sympathy here, 
 
 With friendship soft influence ,fyid, 
 
 And the moss drop a crystaline tear, 
 When sorrows envelop his mind. 
 
 But when he revisits this spot, 
 An asylum again shall be found, 
 
 His pipe shall be heard from the grot, 
 And Alexis shall dwell on the sound.
 
 121 
 
 , 
 
 
 TOM LONG SMITH, THE DOCTOR. 
 
 ,-QDGE, a poor honest country lout, 
 Not over-stock'd with learning, 
 ChancM on a summer's eve to meet 
 The Vicar, home returning. 
 
 ** Ah! Master Hodge," the Vicar said, 
 
 " What, still as wise as ever ? 
 " The people in the village say, 
 . " That you are wond'rous clever." 
 
 " Why Master Parson, as to that, 
 " I beg you'll right conceive me, 
 
 " I donna brag, but still I know 
 " A thing or two, believe me." 
 
 '" ~ 
 
 " I'll try your skill," the Vicar said, 
 
 " For learning what digestion, 
 " Which soon you'll prove, if right Or wrong, 
 By solving me a question. 
 
 " Noah, of old, three babies had, 
 " Or grown-up children rather, 
 
 " Shem, Ham, and Japhet, they were callM, 
 " Now, who was Japhet's father ?"
 
 " Ad zook !" ery'd Hodge, and soatch'd his head, 
 
 " That does my wits belabour, 
 * ; But homeward howsome'er I'll run, 
 
 " And ax old Giles, my neighbour/* 
 
 To Giles he went, and put the case, 
 
 With circumspect intention : 
 " Thou fool !" cried Giles, " I'll mtike it clear 
 
 " To thy dull comprehension, 
 
 " Three children has Tom Long, the smith, 
 
 " Or CatHe-doctor, rather, 
 " Tom, Dick, and Harry, they are call'd, 
 
 " No\v, who is Harry's father >" 
 
 " Ad rat it," honest Hodge replies, 
 
 " Right well I know your lingo : 
 " Who's Harry's father ? stop, here goes, 
 
 " Why, Tom Long Smith, by jingo." 
 
 ' &* 
 Away he ran, to meet the Priest, 
 
 / 
 
 With all his might and main, 
 Who with good humour instant put 
 The question once again. 
 
 4 
 
 " Noah, of old, three babies had, 
 " Or grown-up children rather, 
 Shem, Ham, and Japhet, they were call'd, 
 , who was Japhet's father?"
 
 
 125 
 
 " I have it now," Hodge, grinning, cries, 
 
 " I'll answer, like a Proctor, 
 * c Who's Japhet's father ? now I know, 
 
 " Why, Tom Long Smith, the Doctor." 
 
 . * 
 
 
 
 * W* ''* 
 
 * -^ 
 
 
 :> 

 
 124 
 
 MAN OF FASHION'S JOURNAL, 
 
 ^s^UEER dreams thought Suzette inconstant, and 
 fifty other meagrims, owing to Sir Richard's d n'd 
 claret always drink too much of it rose at one 
 curs'd head ach tried patent coffee rather better 
 cast my eye over the news-papers my friend Sir 
 Richard paragraphed smiled at the joke very good 
 
 point myself in the next column not so well 
 
 * 
 pleased sheer envy by the gods ! general election.-- - 
 
 Mem. Canvass as soon as possible do not like 
 * duns cursed troublesome dressed by half past 
 
 three clever fellow that Tom ; five to one better 
 than my last valet took an hour's ride a good 
 horse, mv last purchase ; remember to sell him a2;ain. 
 
 ' */ I w 
 
 nothing like variety scut Tom home with the horses 
 called on Suzette^did not seem quite so fond 
 thought of dream fancied I saw a man's hat in the 
 room, very much like Sir Richard's mere imagina- 
 tion strolled through St. James's Street past carica- 
 ture shop saw myself, knew it directly very like 
 Isiughed 1 it off. Sir Richard there also very fair 
 that ate two jellies, and purchased some pines met 
 
 her 
 
 id i 
 
 Bob Careless rather seedy obliged to speak to 
 
 him very old frieiid^-prornised to call on him. Pe- 

 
 .25 
 
 member to forget the appointment. Dined at six with 
 Sir Richard thought I saw Suzette go out, not cer- 
 tain said several good things, forgot 'em all in high 
 spirits quizz'd a parson drank three bottles, and 
 lounged to the Theatre not quite clear about the 
 play Comedy or Tragedy, forgot which saw the 
 last act Kemble toll-loll not quite certain whether 
 it was Kemble or not. Mrs. Siddons monstrous fine 
 got into a hack set down in St. James's Street 
 dipped a little with the boys at hazard confounded 
 bad luek, lost all my money, and forgot to call on 
 Suzette. 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 s ', 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 \ 

 
 126 
 
 
 
 WOMAN OF FASHION'S JOURNAL. 
 
 - LJ'RE AMT of the Captain ^certainly a fine man 
 counted my card money lost considerably never 
 play again with the Dowager breakfasted at two 
 my new maid too handsome remember to part with 
 her sent cards of compliments to the two Miss 
 Crochets and Lady Dunder my lap-dog Sophy very 
 unwell apprehensive the poor animal is cross'd in 
 love a sad thing, I know by experience the man 
 from Vickery's called with my new wig very becom- 
 ing, but somehow it has not the elegant air of that 
 purchased by Miss Twig, in St. James's Street 
 could not dress myself to my satisfaction Jenny abo- 
 minably awkward, shall certainly part with her 
 my head continually running on the Captain buy no 
 more rouge in the city, might as well use brick-dust 
 never can settle these feathers to my liking" Can I 
 " e'er cease to love thee ? ah ! no, my love, no !" a 
 charming air that remember to get -my piano- forte 
 put in order against the next evening concert read 
 two chapters in the new novel of Innocent Adultery 
 and part of the Monk- Mr. Lewis is a delightful 
 writer, so chaste and so;/noral ! remember to enquire 
 
 for the Tales of Wonfter ? lounged afHe Musical 

 
 
 
 Library bespoke new dress ate some ice in Bond- 
 street don't like Lady Mazey's new chariot dined 
 at seven at Lady Rackett's the Captain there more 
 than usually agreeable*-- went to the opera the cap- 
 tain of the party house prodigiously crowded my 
 ci-divant husband in the opposite box with a lady 
 rather mal apropos; but no matter, telle chose sont 
 looked into Lady Squander's rout positively a mob 
 very right in engaging Townshend remember to 
 bespeak him for my next concert sat down to cards 
 in great luck won a cool hundred of my Lord 
 Lackwit, and fifty of the Baron returned home at 
 five in the morning indulged in half an hour's reflec- 
 tion resolved on reformation, and to erase my name 
 from the PICK-NICK Society. 
 
 I 

 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S TOMB, 
 
 * 
 
 'TR1KE loud the martial instruments of war* 
 And breathe the dulcet flute's melodious sound. 
 Each, in their turn, shall meet the ravish'd ear 
 Of him who sheds a tributary tear, 
 
 For genius past, which never shall return. 
 Behold where Ariel clasps the Poet's urn, 
 And calls beneath the splendid ev'ning star, 
 Faries and Genii to the hallow'd ground* 
 
 **<*? W ' 
 
 And lo ! his varied characters appear^ 
 While as the chequer' d groupe draws near, 
 Dark groves of Cypress hail the mournful bands, 
 E'en Falstaff, son of Mirth and Glee, 
 Forgets his jests and midnight revelry, 
 And pensive o'er the shrine dejected stands. 
 
 
 Sleep on, sweet Bard, where Avon's silver streams, 
 
 Her fertile banks in softest murmurs lave, 
 Passing thy relics, while the glittering beam 
 
 Of chaste-ey'd Cynthia tints the rippl'ing wave.
 
 129 
 
 I 
 
 The Guardian Angel of thy sacred dust, 
 
 To check the tow'ring and the haughty vain, 
 Speaks in a sigh, while bending o'er thy bust, 
 " We ne'er shall look upon thy like again." 
 
 Yet milder passions subject to thy will, 
 In calm obedience wait around thy tomb, 
 
 Bidding each anxious care-worn thought be still, 
 And gently soothing cheers the circling gloom : 
 
 While Fancy, owning all thy magic powers, 
 Thy grave adorns with never-fading flowers.
 
 THE MISER's SONG. 
 
 BROTHER Misers, attend, while I maxims lay down, 
 That shall raise you progressive to stingy renown ; 
 Remember my words, and be prudent from thence, 
 Leave the Pounds to themselves, but take care of the 
 Pence, 
 
 A farthing a day does a little appear, 
 Yet shillings full seven it makes in the year, 
 With some money over, which candles produce, 
 From which save the snuffings, for all turns to use. 
 
 Should chance in your way drop a pin in the street, 
 The glittering stranger with reverence greet ; 
 Stick it fast in your sleeve, for 'tis useful to know, 
 That pins sell again at a farthing a row. 
 
 But how shall my verse the black dust-heap display, 
 Where rags and old remnants are thrown ev'ry day ; 
 Rich treasures for misers by carelessness thrown, 
 That will money produce in each alley thro' town. 
 
 \ 
 
 Let mirth and true merit be shunn'd by our tribe, 
 Extravagant maxims, from such you'll imbibe, 
 You must learn how to SAVE what your labours produce, 
 And study new methods to put it to use.
 
 131 
 
 And lastly, should Poverty knock at your door, 
 Let your hearts be lock'd up, as you lock up your store, 
 Say the times are so hard you're unable to live, 
 And tho' coffers run over* have nothing to give.
 
 132 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 1, boy, bring the goblet fill up to the brim, 
 Gay Bacchus, thy clusters entwine ; 
 Then bind round my brows thy rich chaplet so trim, 
 And pleasure transcendant is mine. 
 
 O'er me be thy banner of tendrils unfurl'd, 
 Thy tun with the grape-juice be stor'd ; 
 
 Pll laugh at the whims, and the cares of the world, 
 Thy presence enlivens my board. 
 
 For life is nought else but a phantom at best, 
 
 A dream that soon passes away ; 
 Our wit and our wisdom, are merely a jest, 
 
 Our bodies a compound of clay. 
 
 That death is a dream too, the grey-beards maintain, 
 
 When clay must return to a clod, 
 Then drop on my grave none but tears of Champaigne, 
 
 And the vine shall rise out of the sod.
 
 133 
 CELIA's SONG 
 
 TO HER HEART. 
 
 .H ! Say, my fond heart, did you never beat high, 
 When Henry approach'd with a smile ? 
 And did you not frequently heave a deep sigh, 
 When his converse the time would beguile ? 
 
 When the hours flew swift, and the curfew had rung, 
 
 Did you ever once wish him away ? 
 Qrchided the raptures that flowed from his tongue ? 
 
 Ah ! say, little flutterer, say ! 
 
 Did flattery never enchanting appear ? 
 
 Nay, form'd it not part of thy bliss ? 
 When lovers have sigh'd, did you deem them sincere ? 
 
 I fear the reply will be " Yes." 
 
 But did I e'er careless or torpid appear, 
 
 At the tale of misfortune or woe ? 
 Or did I e'er check Sensibility's tear ? 
 
 Ah ! no, little flutterer, no ! 
 
 Should Henry solicit to make me his bride, 
 
 And declare not without me to live ; 
 Ah ! say, should I all his professions deride, 
 
 Ah ! teach me wnat answer to give.
 
 134 
 
 If I slighted the vows of the eloquent youth, 
 Say, would you not deem me remiss > 
 
 And prove that for Falsehood I forfeited Truth ? 
 Oh ! yes, little flutterer, yes.
 
 13.5 
 
 A SPORTING 
 
 ANECBOTE. 
 
 HE late Duke of R had some capital hunters 
 in Sussex. A monkey who was kept in the same 
 stable, was remarkably fond of leaping from the back 
 of one horse to another, and thereby teazing the 
 po6r animals incessantly. The groom made a com- 
 plaint to the Duke, who immediately formed a plan 
 to remedy the evil. " If he is so fond of riding/' 
 replied his Grace, " we'll endeavour to give him 
 " enough of it," and accordingly provided a com- 
 plete jockey dress for the monkey. The next time 
 the hounds were out, Jackoo, in his uniform, was 
 strapped to the back of one of the fleetest horses 
 in the stud. The view hallow being given, away 
 they went, through thick and thin ; the horse carry- 
 ing so light a weight, presently left all the company 
 behind. Some of the party passing by a Farm- 
 House, enquired of a countryman, " Whether rue 
 " had seen the fox ?" " Aye, zure," said the man, 
 " he be gone over yon fallow field, by the whoame 
 " close," " Arid was there any one up with the
 
 136 
 
 " hounds ? " " Aye, zure," said John, " there be a 
 " little mon in a yellow jacket, just gone by, riding 
 " as though the devil be in un. I hope, from my 
 " heart, the young gentleman mayn't meet with a 
 " fall, for he rides most monstratious bould ! ! " 
 
 The experiment, however, had the desired effect, 
 for Jackoo could not endure the sight of a stable ever 
 afterwards.
 
 137 
 
 AN ITINERANT 
 
 LL ANECDOTE. 
 
 FEW of the wandering children of Thespis, 
 having procured a barn, for a temporary exhibition, 
 announced the Tragedy of " Romeo and Juliet," for 
 
 O v 
 
 representation, and an audience, much more nume- 
 ro.us than was expected, attended. The blooming 
 Hero of the Drama, was represented by the manager 
 himself, who had long passed by his fiftieth year, 
 and in appearance much more resembled the starved 
 Apothecary, than the youthful Romeo ! Yet, on 
 this night, in his own opinion he did wonders ! 
 His spouse (whose shape somewhat resembled a 
 butter firkin) was the lovely Juliet, who having 
 sighed, whined, and sobbed, through the principal 
 scenes of the character, the charitable Muse, in 
 pity for the audience, had graciously condescended 
 to lodge her in the tomb of her ancestors. A large 
 blanket was the substitute for the ancient monu- 
 ment of the Capulets, behind which, the lovely form 
 of the heroine was intended to be discovered, as a 
 melancholy example crossed love, to the surround-
 
 138 
 
 ing village damsels, equipped in red cloaks and pat? 
 tens! Unfortunately, the lady behind the blanket 
 had forgot her cue, and wisely considering the loss 
 of time, in any shape whatever, extremely repre- 
 hensible, entered into a scheme of amusement, till 
 the time drew near for the discovery. Romeo knew 
 nothing of this, and great was the expectation, when 
 he lifted the iron crow, and threatened destruction 
 to the defenceless covering ; at length the tattered 
 rags gave way, and displayed to the astonished 
 audience, but more particularly to the son of Mon- 
 tague, his beloved Juliet, seated on the knee of one 
 of the meanest of his father's household !
 
 A LAW ANECDOTE. 
 
 a trial in a country town for sheep-stealing, 
 the first witness called was the owner of the property, 
 which he had discovered in Smithfield Market. He was 
 a very good kind of man, but unfortunately his head 
 was rather too thick for retaining, or rather compre- 
 hending, the usual rules of Law Etiquette. On the 
 first question being asked him by the Judge, he 
 raised his eyes, and opening his mouth, seemed fixed 
 to the spot with amazement ; at length he stam- 
 mered put," What d'ye say?" on the matter 
 being explained to him, and that he should address 
 the Judge by the title of " My Lord," he endeavoured 
 to recollect himself, and being called on to mention 
 his name, he boldly replied, " Thomas Blunt," 
 " Well, Mr. Blunt, where was you at the time you 
 " discovered your sheep ?" (it must be observed, the 
 " Judge was rather hard of hearing) " At Smithfield, 
 " your Honor my Lord, I mean I ax pardon." 
 " At Smithfield, very well; and what did you do 
 " then ?" " I went to handle 'em, my Lord." 
 " Handlum ! Where's Handluni ? W T here do you 
 " say you went r" " I went to handle 'em, your
 
 140 
 
 u Worship." " To Handium! What have we to 
 " do with Handium ! I tell you, fellow, keep at 
 " Smithfield, where you began your story ; stay at 
 " the place where you found your property, till fur- 
 " ther orders. When we want you at Handium, we'll 
 " call for 
 
 THE mistake was, however, cleared up, by one of 
 the counsel informing his Lordship, that the man's 
 meaning was, that he " handled the sheep," in order to 
 ascertain their value, by which means he made the 
 discovery. This explanation set the matter in its 
 proper light, and every thing went on in a tolerable 
 smooth channel to the conclusion. 
 
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