THE OLD CHEESE.

(KING.)

YOUNG Slouch the farmer had a jolly wife,
That knew all the conveniences of life,
Whose diligence and cleanliness supplied
The wit which nature had to him denied:
But then she had a tongue that would be heard,
And make a better man than Slouch afeard.
This made censorious persons of the town
Say, Slouch could hardly call his soul his own;
For, if he went abroad too much, she 'd use
To give him slippers and lock up his shoes.
Talking he lov'd, and ne'er was more afflicted
Than when he was disturb'd or contradicted;
Yet still into his story she would break
With--"'Tis not so; pray give me leave to speak.'
His friends thought this was a tyrannic rule,
Not diff'ring much from calling of him fool;
Told him he must exert himself, and be
In fact the master of the family.

He said, 'That the next Tuesday noon would shew
Whether he were the lord at home or no ;
When their good company he would entreat
To well-brew'd ale, and clean if homely meat.'
With aching heart home to his wife he goes,
And on his knees does his rash act disclose ;
And prays dear Sukey, that one day at least,
He might appear as master of the feast.

I'll grant your wish,' cries she, that you may see "'T were wisdom to be govern'd still by me.'

The guests upon the day appointed came, Each bowsy farmer with his simp'ring dame. 'Ho, Sue!' cries Slouch, why dost not thou ap

pear?

6

'Are these thy manners when aunt Snap is here??

THE OLD CHEESE.

'I pardon ask,' says Sue; I'd not offend

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Any my dear invites, much less his friend.' Slouch by his kinsman Gruffy had been taught To entertain his friends by finding fault, And make the main ingredient of his treat His saying-There was nothing fit to eat: "The boil'd pork stinks, the roast beef's not enough, The bacon 's rusty, and the hens are tough; 'The veal's all rags, the butter 's turned to oil; And thus I buy good meat for sluts to spoil. "'T is we are the first Slouches ever sat 'Down to a pudding without plumbs or fat. "What teeth or stomach 's strong enough to feed 'Upon a goose my grannum kept to breed? 'Why must old pigeons, and they stale be drest, "When there's so many squab ones in the nest? This beer is sour; 't is musty, thick and stale, 'And worse than any thing except the ale.' Sue all this while many excuses made: Some things she own'd; at other times she laid The fault on chance, but oft'ner on the maid. Then cheese was brought. Says Slouch-This e'en shall roll;

'I'm sure 't is hard enough to make a bowl:
This is skim-milk, and therefore it shall go ;
And this, because 't is Suffolk, follow too.'
But now Sue's patience did begin to waste;
Nor longer could dissimulation last.

}

'Pray let me rise,' says Sue, my dear; I'll find
A cheese perhaps may be to lovy's mind.'
Then in an entry standing close, where he
Alone, and none of all his friends, might see;
And brandishing a cudgel he had felt,
And far enough on this occasion smelt-
'I'll try, my joy,' she cried, "if I can please
My dearest with a taste of his old cheese!'

Siouch turn'd his head, saw his wife's vigorous hand Wielding her oaken sapling of command,

Knew well the twang--' Is 't the old cheese my

dear?"

'No need, no need of cheese,' cries Slouch I'll

swear,

I think I've din'd as well as my lord mayor.'

EPIGRAM.

(FORT FOLIO.)

A STINGY fellow, 'tis no matter who,

Had,

once upon a time,' some work to do; He told a man, they called him Sam, I think, That if he'd do this job, he 'd give him drink, Such as could not in any place be sold,

For it was then exactly ten years old.

The work is done, the miser gives the dram, How old do you call dis Massa,' says poor Sam, Ten years exactly,'-- Ten years!' in a rage Says Sam, He be damn little of his age.'

6

A COLLEGE STORY.

(FRENEAU.)

A SON of a college for science renowned,
Who long had been reading and reading, and read-

ing

Huge volumes as dry as the deserts of Zaara,
With abstinence much, and little good feeding,
At length became fond of a glass of Madeira,
Beer, brandy, or porter--whatever was found:

One Saturday evening, when socially met
With friends to his liking, called fellows of college,
Each drank off his toast in a bumper of wine
"Till mirth had the better of reason and knowledge:

THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER.

This orderly, decent, exemplary set

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Then talked away cheerly 'till two of the clock, 'Till their eyes, like the eyes of old Moses, did shine When he came from the mount, and the cliffs of his rock,

At the sins of the people to fume and to fret.

Now the bell striking three, they agreed to adjourn;
Each bound to his lodging by different roads ;
But the son of the college by quaffing too much,
Lost his path, and got into the dead men's abodes;
Where Irish and English, Columbians and Dutch,
Had agreed to lie down, without quarrels or feuds.
He stumbled and tumbled, stubbed toes, broke his
shins,

And next with a head-stone disabled his head;
Though the night was as dark as in Egypt of old
He discovered at last he had got with the dead;
There jammed like a wedge by a couple of tombs,
An effort he made to dislodge-but in vain ;
Old Bacchus had stowed him so snug in his bed,
That the church might as soon have been raised up
again.

When thus the poor FELLOW was heard with a groan
To say, as he lay by strong liquor oppressed,
Well, well, I suppose if they let me alone,
In time, I may chance to get up with the rest.

THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER.

A GRASSHOPPER had chaunted it away,
Each summer's day:

Now that cold weather was set in,

Began to look most piteous thin.

Away she hopp'd to see her neighbour, th' ant,

And begg'd some small relief she'd grant

N

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THE PEASANT AND HIS ASS

From her abundant store;

Or else, e'er half the winter o'er,
She needs must die for want;
And faith and troth she swore
The loan with int'rest to restore
By autumn next-if not before.
Your ants they never lend on trust:
Our housewife was devout as well as just;
T'encourage sloth she held a crime.

How did you spend quoth she, the harvest time?
And please you, night and day I tun'd my song
T'amuse the travellers that pass'd along.
Oh, ho! and so you sung the summer out:
Yes, Ma'am. Why that was wond'rous wise!
And now that winter's come, might I advise
E'en dance about ;

You'll have at least, the comfort for 't,
To've led a merry life, though short.

THE PEASANT AND HIS ASS.

As on the road a peasant drove his ass,
He spi'd a meadow rich in grass;
And tho' he had no right to do it,

He dar'd the pound, and turn'd the beast into it.
The jack-ass, charm'd at such a treat,

With choice to crop and time to eat,

Graz'd here and there the field all over, Then pranc'd and rear'd and toss'd his head, And in the thick on't made his bed,

Like one that's nurs'd in clover.

Amidst this jubilee the foe appears; The clown cries out, Haste, haste away! At which our ass prick'd up his ears, And bray'd, No friend, I choose to stay: Will those folks load a double pack Upon my back?