100 THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE. 'Zounds!' cry'd the earl,be converts then this minute ;' 6 So throwing sixpence to them, there, there, there, Take that,' cry'd Peterborough with a sneer-'Now if you think I'm he, the devil 's in it.' THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE. (PINDAR.) A MAN of some small fortune had a wife,, At times 't was dark and dull, and hazy weather. Whilst in a neighbouring room the husband sat, Musing on this thing now, and now on that 3. Now sighing at the sorrows of his wife; As thus he mus'd in solemn study, 'I'm glad on 't Betty cri'd the master— All's with your mistress well, I hope?" THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE. 6 Quoth she, All 's well as heart can well desire With madam and the fine young squire: 'So likewise says old doctor Slop.' Off Betty hurried as fast as she could scour, Soon happy Betty came again, Blowing with all her might and main; Just like a grampus, or a whale; 101 In sounds, too, that would Calais reach from Dover'Sir, sir, more happy tidings; 't is not over 6 And madam 's brisker than a nightingale: A fine young lady to the world is come, Squawling away just as I left the room 'Sir, this is better than a good estate." 'Humph,' quoth the happy man, and scratch'd his pate. Now looking up, now looking down; 6 Not with a smile, but somewhat like a frown'Good God,' says he, why was not I a cock, Who never feels of burd'ning brats the shock; 'Who, Turk-like, struts amidst his madam's picking, Whilst to the hen belongs the care To carry them to eat or take the air, Just as this sweet soliloquy was ended, For in bounc'd Bet, her rump with rapture jigging- 'Another daughter, sir-a charming child.'-'Another!' cry'd the man, with wonder wild; 'Zounds! Betty ask your mistress if she's pigging, JUSTIFICATION. A FARMER once, who wanted much One who was sparing at his meat, Induc'd a clodpole to apply, Commended by a neighbour, As Never hungry, never dry, 'Nor ever tir'd of labour! But soon, when hir'd, and set to work, For bacon-rack was quickly shrunk, And soon the cellar's stock was sunk, Which made old Squeezum rail and rave, You Never hungry! ne'er athirst! I wish that both your skins had burst, Hold, zur,' says Hobnail, 'doant ye vly AN IRISH BLUNDER WITHOUT A BULL. If Measter Muggs have tould a lie, Vor 1 do never hungry be, Before my guts I vill, And drowth do never trouble me, 'Before I gets a zwill. And I did never work pursue, Zo Measter Muggs have tould ye true, 103 AN IRISH BLUNDER WITHOUT A BULL. COLONEL Patrick O'Blaney, as honest a teague, As ever took snuff to repel pest or plague, Having got a French snuff box, of papier machee, Which to open requir'd much pains, do you see ; Always kept a bent sixpence at hand in his pocket, And call'd it his key, by the which to unlock it; As by niggling and wedging it under the lid, He came to his rappee that was under it hid: But one day when he wanted a pinch for a friend, He search'd for his tester, but all to no end, Till at last 'twixt the pocket and lining he found it; When in rage he cried Arrah the devil confound it. I'll engage you don't serve me the same trick again, And my hide-and-seek friend, I beg leave to remind ye, That the next time I want you, I'll know where to find ye.' BIENSEANCE, (PINDAR.) AT Paris, some time since, a murd'ring man, The bungler was condemn'd to grace the wheel, His limbs secundum artem to be broke A flippant petit maitre skipping by, Boh!' quoth the German;an't I' pon the wheel? 'D' ye tink my nerfs and bons can't feel?' 'Sir' quoth the beau; ‘do n't, do u't be in a passion; 'I've nought to say about your situation; 'But making such a hideous noise in France, 'Fellow, is contrary to bienseance.” AN ANATOMICAL EPITAPH ON AN IN VALID. (WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.) HERE lies a head that often ach'd: Here lie two hands that always shak'd: Here lies a brain of odd conceit; Here lies a heart that often beat: |