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brought with him a basket of eggs; his friend afked him, why he took the trouble to bring eggs from Ireland to England-" Becafe," said he, "I am fond of them new laid, and I know these to be fo."

WI

ON A RECENT EVENT.

ITH racers of the highest breed,
That he should never once fucceed,
From year to year my Lord enrages;
At length a whifper meets his ear,

"You're blind, my Lord; the reason's clear-
Your Jockies' bribes exceed their wages!".

TO A BAD MAN CENSURING THE JUSTICE OF HIS COUNTRY.

AN EPIGRAM.

HIRCAS, thou tell'st the world around,
That Juftice is not to be found-

'Tis granted; but we must agree
'Tis a moft lucky thing for thee.

EPIGRAM.

FOR years Frank fcarce could draw his breath,
And feem'd upon the verge of death;

But now he's healthy, ftout, and jolly,

And free from pain or melancholy.
The reafon would you wish to know ?-
His Doctor died three months ago.

Woburn.

P.

EPIGRAM ON A SCRIBBLING BANKER's CLERK.

O fave his cafh, and fpend his time,
Dan fits at home to fcribble rhyme;

Some other paftime, fure, he'd try,
If he the paper had to buy!

PREP-BO.

EPIGRAM.

BLACK locks hath Gabriel, beard that's white;

The reafon, Sir, is plain;
Gabriel works hard, from morn to night,
More with his jaw than brain.

BY

ANOTHER.

Y the fide of the Avon, as Foote was once walking, And with Murphy and Garrick familiarly talking, A ftranger, induc'd by fpleen, envy, or malice, Interrupted their chat with impertinent fallies

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Quoth ironical Sam," From your wit there's no fear But you're Warwickshire born, as well as Shakspeare?" "No; there, Sir, you're wrong, I muft beg to reprove

you

Out of Effex I come!"" Why then, pray Sir, who drove you ?”

T. B.

ANOTHER.

CHARLES, grave or merry, at no lie would stick,
And taught at length his mem'ry the fame trick.
Believing thus, what he fo oft repeats,

He's brought the thing to fuch a país, poor youth!
That now himself, and no one else he cheats,
Save when unluckily he tells the truth.

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AYS Phillis to Damon, "I never could find

SAYS

The reason why Cupid (fweet urchin) is blind." "The caufe," return'd Damon, "few words will expressKnow, you have thofe eyes which he us'd to poffefs.

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EPITAPH

ON

EPITAPH ON A DRUNKARD.

BY RONCALLI.

OF tippling Mary fleep the fad remains

Within this fculptur'd urn, by goblets grac'd;

But ah! her spirit feels unnumber'd pains,
Befide her that an empty glafs is plac'd.

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EPIGRAMS.

BY PANANTI,

"REPENT, repent, for pity's fake,"

Roar'd out a Friar to a Rake:

"Below, where droops the willow tree,
I saw the Devil in fearch of thee."-
"Mercy! the deed may come to pass;
How look'd he, Father ?"-" Like an afs."
"Poh, man! recover from this fright;
It was thy fhadow caught thy fight."

ON A BAD POET.

'TIS faid thy verfes, honeft friend,
Coft nought in bringing forth;
Still are there numbers who contend
Their coft exceeds their worth.

YRIARTE.

EPIGRAM.

A MUSICIAN AND DANCING-MASTER, WHO

CAMPED WITH CASH

PUBLICATION.

HIS

SUBSCRIBED

DE

FOR A MUSICAL

IS time was quick, his touch was fleet,
Our gold he nimbly finger'd;

Alike alert with hands and feet,
His movements have not linger'd;

Where

Where lies the wonder of the cafe?
A moment's thought detects it ;-
His practice has been thorough bass,
A chord will be his exit.

Yet while we blame his bafty Aight,
Our cenfure may be rash:
A traveller is furely right

To change his notes for cath.

LINES ON A KITTEN.

AFAVOURITE cat, in the neighbourhood of Portland Place, lately produced a most astonishing kit

ten, which bounteous nature had gifted with

Eight Legs,
Two Tails,

Two Mouths, and only
One Head.

It lived but a few feconds after its birth, and is now embalmed in spirits for the gratification of the curious. The following infcription is intended for the glass that contains it:

HERE refts within this crystal cafe,

A wonder of the purring race:
Eight legs it has, two mouths, two tails,
A double fhare of toes and nails;
One fet of brains could not provide
Life for all thefe-and fo—it died!
But death fhall not deftroy its merits,
They shall be long preferv'd in spirits.

THE WIDOW.

AWOMAN finging ballads for money to bury her
husband, gave rise to the following jeu d'efprit :-
FOR her husband deceas'd, Sally chaunts the sweet lay,
And faith it is fingular forrow;

But I doubt, fince the fings for a dead man to-day,
She'll cry for a live one to-morrow.

VOL. X, `

TO

TO JULIA PLAYING WITH A PARROT.

[From the Morning Poft.]

AH, lovely Julia, fweetest fair,

Why on that bird careffes wafte?
Why not allow thy fwain a fhare
Of joys he better far can taste?
Why beam on Poll thofe radiant

eyes,
On him why lavish accents sweet,
While Henry's vows and ardent fighs
Are breath'd unheeded at thy feet?
But if the partner of thy joy
Muft a loquacious Parrot be;
Take me, fweet maid, no longer coy,
Fancy that prattling bird in me.

What blifs to hang upon thy words
"Thy honied phrafes to repeat!
A blifs too mighty far for birds,
And for a lover only meet.

Like Poll I'll gaze away my rage,
Aw'd by the fight of matchlefs charms!
And fince a Parrot has a cage,

Oh cage me in thy circling arms!

E

BONAPARTE IN LOVE.

[From the Morning Poft.]

V'RY movement, cafuifts fing,
Has though hidden oft, its spring,
Now controlling, now impelling,
Sinking, raifing, foothing, fwelling,
As prevails the ruling paffion,
Be it envy, avarice, fathion,
Luft, or jealoufy, or hate,en,
Or ambition tổ be great.yah
Mufing on this mental mover,
Now, methinks, I can difcover

ET.

The

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