But in parting with these, I was puzzled again,
With the how, and the who,and the where, and the when.
There's H--d, and C-y, and H-rth, and H-ff,

I think they love venifon-I know they love beef:
There's my countryman Higgins-Oh, let him alone
For making a blunder, or picking a bone.

But hang it-to poets, who feldom can eat,
Your very good mutton's a very good treat;
Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt-
It's like fending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.
While thus I debated, in reverie center'd,

An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd;
An under-bred, fine-fpoken fellow was he,

And he fmil'd as he look'd at the venifon and me. "What have we got here?-Why this is good eating! "Your own, I fuppofe or is it in waiting?"

"Why, whose should it be?"-cry'd I, with a flounce; "I get these things often"—but that was a bounce: "Some lords, my acquaintance, that fettle the nation, "Are pleas'd to be kind-but I hate oftentation." "If that be the cafe then," cry'd he, very gay, "I'm glad I have taken this house in my way: "To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me; "No words-I infift on't-precisely at three:

We'll have Johnfon,and Burke, all the wits will be there; My acquaintance is flight, or I'd ask my Lord Clare. "And, now that I think on't, as I am a finner, "We wanted this venifon to make out a dinner. "What say you—a pasty—it shall, and it must; "And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for cruft. "Here, porter, this venifon with me to Mile-end; "No ftirring, I beg-my dear friend-my dear friend!”

Thus fnatching his hat, he brush'd off like the wind, And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, And "nobody with me at sea but myself;" Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hafty, Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venifon pafty, Were things that I never dislik'd in my life, Tho' clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife: So next day, in due splendour to make my approach, I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach.

When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine) My friend bade me welcome, but ftruck me quite dumb With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; "For I knew it," he cry'd, "both eternally fail, "The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale; "But no matter, I'll warrant we'll make up the party "With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty: "The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew"They both of them merry, and authors like you; "The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge; "Some think he writes Cinna-he owns to Panurge." While thus he describ'd them by trade and by name, They enter'd, and dinner was ferv'd as they came. At the top a fry'd liver and bacon were seen, At the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen; At the fides there was spinnage and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pasty—was not. Now, my lord, as for tripe, it's my utter averfion, And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Perfian;

* See the letters that passed between his Royal Highness Henry Duke of Cumberland and Lady Grofvenor---1769.

So there I fat ftuck, like a horse in a pound,

While the bacon and liver went merrily round:

But what vex'd me moft, was that d-'d Scottish rogue,
With his long-winded fpeeches, his fmiles, and his brogue,
And, "madam," quoth he, "may this bit be my poison,
"A prettier dinner I never fet eyes on;

66 Pray a flice of your liver, though may I be curft,
"But I've eat of your tripe, till I'm ready to burst.”
"The tripe!" quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek,
"I could dine on this tripe feven days in a week:
"I like these here dinners, fo pretty and small;
"But your friend there the doctor eats nothing at all."
"O-ho!" quoth my friend, "he'll come on in a trice,
"He's keeping a corner for fomething that's nice:
"There's a patty"-"A pafty!" repeated the Jew;
"I don't care if I keep a corner for't too."
"What the de'il, mon, a pafty!" re-echo'd the Scot;

Though splitting, I'll ftill keep a corner for that." "We'll all keep a corner," the lady cry'd out; "We'll all keep a corner," was echo'd about. While thus we refolv'd, and the pafty delay'd, With looks that quite petrify'd, enter'd the maid! A vifage fo fad, and fo pale with affright, Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night!

But we quickly found out-for who could mistake her-
That she came with fome terrible news from the baker;
And fo it fell out, for that negligent sloven

Had shut out the pasty on shutting his oven!
Sad Philomel thus-but let fimilies drop-
And, now that I think on't, the story may stop.
To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd,
To fend fuch good verfes to one of your taste;

You've got an odd fomething-a kind of difcerning-
A relish-a tafte-ficken'd over by learning;

At leaft it's your temper, as very well known,
That you think very flightly of all that's your own:
So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amifs,
You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.

A DESCRIPTION

OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.

WHERE the Red-Lion staring o'er the way,
Invites each paffing stranger that can pay-
Where Calvert's butt, and Parsons' black champaign,
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane;
There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs fnug,
The Mufe found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug!
A window patch'd with paper, lent a ray,
That dimly fhew'd the state in which he lay;
The fanded floor that grits beneath the tread;
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;
The Royal Game of Goofe was there in view,
And the Twelve Rules the royal martyr drew;
The Seafons, fram'd with lifting, found a place,
And brave Prince William fhew'd his lamp-black face:
The morn was cold, he views with keen defire

The rufty grate unconfcious of a fire;

With beer and milk arrears the frieze was fcor'd,
And five crack'd tea-cups drefs'd the chimney-board;
A night-cap deck'd his brows inftead of bay,

A cap by night-a ftocking all the day!

THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.

A TALE.

SECLUDED from domestic strife,
Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five

Made him the happiest man alive-
He drank his glafs, and crack'd his joke,
And Freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.

Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,
Could any accident impair?

Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Our fwain, arriv'd at thirty-fix?
Oh! had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town!
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!
Oh! had her eyes forgot to blaze,
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze!
Oh! But let exclamation cease-
Her prefence banish'd all his peace:
So, with decorum all things carry'd, !
Mifs frown'd, and blush'd, and then was-

Need we expofe to vulgar fight
The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains, clos'd around?
Let it fuffice, that each had charms-
He clafp'd a goddess in his arms,

-marry'd.