« AnteriorContinuar »
“ ALL's lost! All's lost!
Not a line in hand,
And we're coming so close to the First of May, That the Number will never be out to its day.
I'm certain and sure,
Though he looks so demure,
For, day after day,
And promises breaking,
Dear! dear! what can the matter be?
Mr. P. is so late with bis pen!
And see-ha’nt he chous'd us again?”
Has but a drowsy head ;
The Editor instead?
While Courtenay nibs his pen ;
While Bellamy writes ten.”
“Well, well, we needn't make a fuss,
We needn't now be bother'd thus,
Whether it's out or not;
And pass about the Pot!” (Enter Mr. Peregrine Courtenay, booted and spurred, with a long face and a bundle ; Devils stare and put down the Beer.-A pause !)
“ What is't ye do?
All idling here,
And our hurry so great,
You're worse than a Turk or a Jew;
And you won't give the Devil his due.”
You promis'd you would send ;
When his copy's at an end?”
(Devils speak alternately, Mr. Courtenay looking miserable.) “ And where's “The Bachelor?!”—and where
Good Mr. Sterling's Thoughts on Prayer?'"“ And · Burton's Verses on the Stocks?'”“ And · Lozell's Prose on Weathercocks?'”- And where is · Martin on the Martyrs ?'" “ And “The Mistake?'"-and Changing Quarters?'" “ Those Sonnets?"_" and “The Welcome Guest?'” “ • On Calumny?'”_""On Interest?!”. “ How all your vast professions fall!
You speak us soft and fair ;
An Echo answers—'Where?'”
Has a marvellous ache?
When I sigh for a steak ?
And fly from Quadrille! Oh!
And late on my pillow ?
Grow drowsy, and blink,
To be harassed with lies,
And bespatter'd with ink?
If a man is of use,
Little else but abuse!
Here's copy in my sack!
And may be spared the Black!”
New danger to delay!
With all the speed you may!
Upon a brace of tubs,
I'll write the King of Clubs.'
(Exeunt Devils, Compositors, 8c., making a great noise ; manet Mr.Courtnay.
-He sits for some time in a brown study ;-then soliloquizes :)
“ Alas! no King of Clubs can meet,
When all its Members fly and fleet;
And leave their writing and renown
Mr. Courtenay noddeth-yawneth-sleepeth.– A Devil cometh for the “ King
of Clubs." —He pulleth Mr. Courtenay by the nose.—Mr. Courtenay is thereby awakened ;-he pincheth the Devil with the tongs, in imitation of St. Dunstan. He taketh pen, ink, and paper, and writeth for the space of two hours. He then thus exclaimeth :
“ Enough, enough-the feat is done!
I'm rid of all my evils !
PEREGRINE COURTENAY. Windsor, April 28, 1821.