and although I may, or may not have seen any
in the present day, the same as some of the
Heros and Heroines, depicted in the following
Treatise: yet I think it would be well, if many
of my readers, who may be placed in the same
situation of life, were to follow and imitate their
virtues. And though my Patron hath said that

“With Bak'd, and Brew'd, and Fry'd, and Toasted,
With Boil'd, and Stew'd, and Dry'd, and Roasteď,
I'll treat the Town.
(K. S.) Saxmigundus.

Yet I do not pretend to give an Essay upon
Cookery, &c. yet I imagine my Patron did not
mean so, Literally, on the contrary. And though
(as a certain wise gentleman fancies) I am
neither capable nor qualified to write such a
Work as the following, yet it must stand-

Critics Iv'e had, and more I'm sure will come!
And they'll pronounce my everlasting doom.

If the following seem as a Mirror to some, I hope they will attach no blame to the Author: and should it have the good fortune to pass through the hands of the Princes of Belles Lettres, entitled Critics, and of pleasing and amus. ing any of the little few who may deign to peruse it, my happiness would be complete: and if (that mortifying if) it should not-there's the rub-I must be reconciled to my Fate.

I beg the reader's pardon for thus transgressing, for my pen is at the present, similar to a little unruly member, which when once set a going, forgets when to give over.

Methinks I hear you saying,

come, Mr.

for a when wrote in

would-be Author, shorten, shorten your Preface, or I shall be in the vapours." And so I will, my kind reader, but first pray allow your Would-be-Author, (as you are pleased to call me) to return his thanks to you, and his friends in general, for giving him so patient a hearing. And further, had I been blessed, like many, with a liberal education and better informed mind, in union with a clear head and bright romantic genius; I might have been more capable. However, as it is, I have presumed (though not without painful forebodings) to enter upon this important work, hoping that the imperfections of the Piece, will be imputed to my little acquaintance with the world, and Weak Intellects! As the immortal Pope says:

"Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor ne'er shall be.
In every work regard the writers end,
Since none can compass more than they intend;
And if the means be just, the conduct true,
Applause, in spite of trivial faults is due.
As men of breeding sometimes men of wit,
T'avoid great errors, must the less commit;
Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,
For not to know some trifles, is a praise.
Most critics, fond of some subservient art,
Still make the whole depend upon a part t
They talk of principles, but notions prize,
And all to onelov'd folly sacrifice."

Now, as I think that by this time I shall have greatly exercised, and perhaps trespassed upon my reader's patience, so I shall close this Preface, by quoting the words of the great Apostle :

"Such as I have, I give unto you !"

If I'd had better, better would I have given.

Returning to my friends, the subscribers, my sincere thanks, I presume to subjoin myself, with the deepest humility,

THE SATIRIST:

OR,

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR.

a

CHAPTER I.

""Tis nothing new, I'm sure you know,
For those who write their works to shew;
And if they're prais'd, or render'd vain,
"Tis ten to one they write again;

And then they read it o'er with care,

Correcting here, and adding there."-MRS. SAVAGE.

It was in the dreary month of November, the wind was loud and boisterous, indicating an approaching storm. It was on such an evening as I have feebly described, that the sons and daughters of Frederic Clemence, Esq. were amusing themselves and talking upon various subjects, while comfortably seated around a blazing fire, in their snug little drawing room. 'Heavens! what a tempest! its well we're within doors,' said Master Ferdinand, youngest son of Squire Clemence; 'by the Great Gustavus! but Michael will get a dressing;' continued Ferdinand, 'I wish him and Hamlet safe d. All this about the Clemente de is Romano of my own Fancy -just intended us a frame wpon which to weare within more important materials viz- that abou & Jerry Twitcher & l.

C

at home, I wish he may not throw him, he's a mettlesome creature, however there's little lost between them.' Frederic Clemence, Esq. of Fountain's Lodge, father of this young gentleman, was blessed by kind Providence with a competent and independent fortune, who being joined to a lovely and agreeable lady, rendered him one of the happiest of men.

Fountain's Lodge, was a beautiful residence in the County of and situated about five miles from the County Town; the Mansion or Lodge, stood in the centre of a fine park, which was well stocked with deer. The lofty mountains, tremendous precipices, and pendant woods, in contrast with a grand expansive river, that rolled majestically along, formed a most picturesque scene.

Squire Clemence was not over burthened with a family; he was a gentleman of good stature and about the age of forty-three; he, like many other young gentlemen, was very wild and rakish, and had married for love, much against the minds of his parents; nevertheless, as he was an only son, and the darling of his mother, he was at last forgiven. His parents were the descendants of an ancient and noble family, but being concerned with, and supporters of the unfortunate Pretender, some of their estates were confiscated; yet they had sufficient still remaining, to enable them to live in a state of opulence and grandeur; still they sighed when they compared their present state with the grandeur and magnificence of their Fore-fathers. To see and behold so many upstart nobles, view and treat them with scorn and contempt, the sight mortified them beyond expression. Not