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There's my countryman Higgins-oh! let him alone “ Pray a slice of your liver, though may I be curst
“ But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst.” But hang it-to poets, who seldom can eat,
“ The tripe!” qaoth the Jew: “if the truth I must Your very good mutton's a very good treat:
“ But your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at
“ Oh ho!" quoth my freind," he'll come on in a trice, Who smil'd as he gaz'd at the ven’son and me. “ He's keeping a corner for something that's nice: “ What have we got here ?-Why this is good eating? “ There's a pasty""A pasty !” repeated the Jew; “ Your own, I suppose or is it in waiting?"
I don't care if I keep a corner fort too." “ Why whose should it be, 'sir ” cried I, with a " What the de'il, mon, a pasty !" re-echo'd the Scot; flounce;
“ Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for thot." “ I get these things often" but that was a bounce: “ We'll all keep a corner," the lady cry'd out; “ Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the “ We'll all keep a corner," was echo'd about. nation,
While thus we resolv'd, and the pasty delay'd, “ Are pleas'd to be kind-but I hate ostentation." With looks that quite petrified enter'd the maid ;
“ If that be the case ther:," cried he, very gay, A visage so sad, and so pale with affright, " I'm glad I have taken this house in my way.
Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night; “ To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me; But we quickly found out, for who could mistake “ No words—I insist on't-precisely at three:
her? « We'll have Johnson and Burke; all the wits will That she came with some terrible news from the be there;
baker: “ My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my Lord Clare. And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven,' “ And, now that I think on't, as I am a sinner! Had shut out the pasty on shutting his oven. : “ We wanted this ven'son to make out a dinner. Sad Philomel thus-but let similes drop“ I'll take no denial-it shall and it must,
And now that I think on't the story may stop. “ And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust. To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplaca,
Here, porter--this ven’son with me to Mile-end ! To send such good verses to one of your taste;
A relisha taste-sicken'd over by learning:
That you think very slightly of all that's your own;
You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.
Op old, when Scarron his companions invited,
Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best With tidings that Johnson and Burke could not
Our Dean I shall be ven’son, just fresh from the “ And I knew it,” he cry'd, “ both eternally fail,
plains; “ The one at the House, and the other with Thrale: Our Burkes shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains; “ But no matter; I'll warrant we'll make up the party Our Will|| shall be wild fowl of excellent flavour, “ With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty : And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the savour; “ The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew,
Our Cumberland's ** sweet-bread its place shall “ Who dabble and write in the papers like you;
obtain, “ The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge; And Douglastt is. pudding substantial and plain : “ Some thinks he writes Cinna-he owns to Panarge." While thus he describ'd them by trade and by name, * Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occasionally dined They enter'd, and dinner was serv'd as they came. at the St. James's Coffee-house. One day it was proposed to At the top a fry'd liver and bacon were seen,
write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person, At the bottom was tripe in a swinging tureen;
furnished subjects of criticism. He was called on for Retalia
tion, and at their next meeting produced the poem.
+ The master of St. James's Coffee-house, where the
| Dr. Bernard, dean of Derry, in Ireland.
$ Mr. Edmund Burke. So there I sat stuck, like a horse in a pound,
|| Mr. William Burke, secretary to General Conway, and While the bacon and liver went merrily round: 1
member for Bedwin.
** Mr. Richard Cumberland, author of the West Indian, With his long-winded speeches, his smiles, and his
Fashionable Lover, the Brothers, and other dramatic pieces. brogue:
tt Doctor Douglas, canon of Windsor, an ingenious Scotch
gentleman, who no less distinguished himself as a citizen of And, “ Madam," quoth he, “may this bit be my
the world, than a sound critic, in detecting several literary poison,
mistakes (or rather forgeries) of his countrymen; particuA prettier dinner I never set eyes on;
larly Lauder on Milton, and Bower's History of the Popes,
Our Garrick's * a salad, for in him we see
Like a tragedy-queen he has dizen'd her out,
Or rather like tragedy giving a rout.
His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd
Adopting his portraits, are pleas'd with their own.
Say, where has our poet this malady caught ?
Or wherefore his characters thus without fault
To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,
Here Douglas retires, from his toils to relax, Who mix'd reason with pleashre, and wisdom with The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks: mirth :
Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, If he had any faults he has left us in doubt;
Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant re.
Our Dodds* shall be pious, our Kendrickst shall
Here lies David Garrick: describe him who can,
Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, And be-plaster'd with rouge his own natural red.
'Twas only that when he was off, he was acting. The papil of impulse, it forc'd him along,"
With no reason on earth to go out of his way,
He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day:
Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick
What spirits were his! what wit and what whim! Till, his relish grown callous, almost td disease,
But let us be candid, and speak out our mind;
If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind.
Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfals || so grave,
gave! As often we wish'd to have Dick back again.
How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,
rais'd, The Terence of England, the mender of hearts ;
While he was be-Roscius’d, and you were be-prais'd!
But peace to his spirit, wherever it flie,
To act as an angel and mix with the skes :
Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will;
And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.
* The Rev. Dr. Dodd. An eminent attorney.
† Dr. Kendrick, who read lectures at the Devil 'Tavern, #Mr. T. Townshend, member for Whitchurch, afterwards under the title of “ The School of Shakspeare." created Viscount Sydney.
| James Macpherson, Esq. who, from the mere force of 9 Mr. R. Burke. This gentleman having slighty fractured his style, wrote down the first poet of all antiquity. one of his arms and legs, at different times, the Doctor has § Mr. Hugh Kelly, author of False Delicacy, Word to the rallied him on those accidents, as a kind of retributive jus. Wise, Clementina, School for Wives, &c. &c. tice for breaking his jests upon other people.
# Mr. W. Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. )
Here Hickey reclines, a most blant pleasant crea
St. James's Chronicle, appeared in that Paper in
June, 1767. Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser 3
SIR–As there is nothing I dislike so much as I answer, No, no, for he always was wiser:
newspaper controversy, particularly upon trifles, perToo courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat?
mit me to be as concise as possible in informing a corHis very worst foe can't accuse him of that:
respondent of yours, that I recommended Blainville's Perhaps he confided in men as they go,
Travels, because I thought the book was a good one; And so was too foolishly honest ? Ah, no!
and I think so still. I said, I was told by the bookThen what was his failing? come, tell it, and burn ye
seller that it was then first published; but in that, it He was, could he help it? a special attorney.
seems, I was misinformed, and my reading was not Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind,
extensive enough to set me right. He has not left a wiser or better behind :
Another correspondent of yours accuses me of His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand;
having taken a ballad, I published some time ago, His manners were gentle, complying, and bland;
from one* by the ingenious Mr. Percy, I do not think Still born to improve us in every part,
there is any great resemblance between the two His pencil our faces, his manners our heart :
pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy some years ago : When they judg'd without skill he was still hard of
and he (as we both considered these things as trifles hearing;
at best) told me with his usual good humour, the next When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios, and time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form stuff,
the fragments of Shakspeare into a ballad of his own. He shifted his trumpet,* and only took snuff.
He then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it,
these are scarce worth printing; and were it not for
the busy disposition of some of your correspondents,
the public should never have known that he owes me After the fourth edition of this poem was printed,
the hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his the publisher received the following epitaph on Mr.
friendship and learning for communications of a mucb Whitefoordt, from a friend of the late Doctor Gold
more important nature. I am, Sir, Yours, &c. smith.
“ TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, Whose temper was generous, open, sincere;
And guide my lonely way, A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear ;
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With bospitable ray.
"For here forlorn and lost I tread, A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he.
With fainting steps and slow; What pity, alas ! that so lib'ral a mind
Where wilds immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go.”
“ Forbear, my son,” the hermit cries, Whose talents to fill any station were fit,
“ To tempt the dangʻrous gloom;
For yonder faithless phantom flies
To lure thee to thy doom.
“ Here to the houseless child of want Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come,
My door is open still : Still follow yçur master, and visit his tomb:
And though my portion is but scant,
I give it with good will.
“ Then turn to-night, and freely share Cross-reading, ship-news, and mistakes of the
Whate'er my cell bestows; press.)
My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.
« No flocks that range the valley free “ Thou best-humour'd man, with the worst-humour'd
To slaughter I condemn : muse."
Taught by that Pow'r who pities me,
I learn to pity them: * Sir Joshua Reynolds was so remarkably deaf as to be “ But from the mountain's
side under the necesity of using an ear-trumpet in company.
A guiltless feast I bring; + Mr. Caleb Vhitefoord, author of many humourous essays.
A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, Mr. W. was so notorious a punster, that Doctor Goldsmith used to ny, it was impossible to keep him company
And water from the spring. without being infected with the itch of punning.
Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser. || Mr. Whiteford has frequently indulged the town with # The Fryar of Orders Gray, in Reliq. of Ancient Poetry, humorous pieces under those titles in the Public Advertiser.
Vol. I. p. 243.
" Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
All earth-born cares are wrong: Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long."
His gentle accents fell :
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely mansion lay;
And strangers led astray.
Requir'd a master's care;
Received the harmless pair. And now when busy crowds retire
To take their evening rest, The hermit trim'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest: And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily prest, and smil'd; And, skill'd in legendary lore
The lingering hours beguild.
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The crackling faggot flies.
To sooth the stranger's woe;
And tears began to flow.
With answering care opprest:
“ The sorrows of thy breast ?
Reluctant dost thou rove;
Or unregarded love?
Are trifling, and decay;
More trifling still than they.
A charm that lulls to sleep;
And leaves the wretch to weep? “ And love is still an emptier sound,
The modern fair one's jest: On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest. “ Por shame, fond youth, thy sorrows bush,
And spurn the sex,” he said: Bat while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.
Swift mantling to the view;
As bright as transient too.
Alternate spread alarms :
A maid in all her charms.
And, ah I forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn," she cried; “ Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude
Where heav'n and you reside. " But let a maid thy pity share,
Whom love bas taught to stray ?
Companion of her way.
A wealthy lord was he;
He had but only me.
Unnumber'd suitors came,
And felt or feign'd a flame. “ Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove: Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd of love. “ In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth or pow'r had he: Wisdom and worth were all he had ;
But these were all to me. “ The blossom opening to the day,
The dews of heav'n refin'd, Could nought of purity display
To emulate his mind. “ The dew, the blossoms of the tree,
With charms inconstant shine: Their charms were his, but, woe to me,
Their constancy was mine. « For still I tried each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;
I triumph'd in his pain.
He left me to my pride;
In secret, where he died. “ But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay: I'll seek the solitude he'sought,
And stretch me where he lay. “ And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
I'll lay me down and die; 'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I." “ Forbid it, Heaven!” the hermit cried,
And clasp'd her to his breast: The wondering fair one tarn'd to chide;
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.
My charmer, turn to see
Restor'd to love and thee.
And every care resign:
My life-my all that's mine?
We'll live and love so true,
Shall break thy Edwin's too."
And though her fops are wondrous civil, THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.
He thinks her ugly as the devil.
Now, to perplex the ravell’d ngose, A TALE.
As each a different way pursues, SECLUDED from domestic strife,
While sullen or loquacious strife Jack Book-worm led a college life;
Promis'd to hold them on for life, A fellowship at twenty-five
That dire disease, whose ruthless pow'r Made him the happiest man alive;
Withers the beauty's transient flow'r, He drank his glass, and eraek'd his joke,
Lo! the small-pox, whose horrid glare And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.
Leveli'd its terrors at the fair; Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,
And, rifling ev'ry youthful grace, Could any accident impair?
Left but the remnant of a face. Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
The glass, grown hateful to her sight, Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-six ?
Reflected now a perfect fright: O had the archer ne'er come down
Each former art she vainly tries To ravage in a country town;
To bring back lustre to her eyes.. Or Flavia been content to stop
In vain she tries her pastes and creams At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!
To smooth her skin, or hide its seams; O had her eyes forgot to blaze!
Her country beaux and city cousins, Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze!
Lovers no more, flew off by dozens: Oh!-but let exclamation cease;
The 'squire himself was seen to yield, Her presence banish'd all his peace:
And e'en the captain quit the field. So with decorum all things carried,
Poor madam, now condemn'd to hack Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was--married. The rest of life with anxious Jack, Need we expose to vulgar sight
Perceiving others fairly flown, The raptures of the bridal night?
Attempted pleasing him alone. Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Jack soon was dazzled to behold Or draw the curtains clos'd around?
Her present face surpass the old. Let it suffice, that each had charms :
With modesty her cheeks are dy'd, He clasp'd a goddess in his arms;
Humility displaces pride; And, though she felt his usage rough,
For tawdry finery is seen Yet in a man 'twas well enough.
person ever neatly clean: The honeymoon like lightning flew;
No more presuming on her sway, The second brought its transports too;
She learns good-nature ev'ry day: A third, a fourth, were not amiss;
Serenely gay, and strict in duty, The fifth was friendship mixed with bliss ;
Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty.
In Bow Street, Covent Garden.. Skill'd in no other arts was she
SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake, But dressing, patching, repartee;
Dear mercenary beauty, And, just as humour rose or fell,
What annual offering shall I make By turns a slattern or a belle:
Expressive of my daty? 'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace; Half naked at a ball or race;
My heart a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
Say, would the angry fair one prize
The gift who slights the giver? To be a dull domestic friend?
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, Could any curtain lectures bring
My rivals give--and let 'em; To decency so fine a thing?
gems, or gold, impart a joy, In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting;
I'll give them when I get 'em. By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.
I'll give-but not the full-blown rose, Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy
Or rose-bud more in fashion; Of powder'd coxcombs at her levee:
Such short-liv'd offerings but disclose The 'squire and captain took their stations,
A transitory passion. And twenty other near relations.
P'll give thee something yet unpaid, Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke
Not less sincere than civil: A sigh in suffocating smoke;
I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid, While all their hours, were past between
I'll give thee-to the devil. Insulting repartee or spleen.
Thus as her faults each day were known, He thinks her features coarser grown:
THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. He fancies ev'ry vice she shows, Or thins her lip, or points her nose:
In Imitation of Dean Swift. Whenever rage or envy rise,
LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!
As rational the human mind; He knows not how, but so it is,
Reason, they say, belongs to man; Her face is grown a knowing phiz ;
But let them prove it, if they can.