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THE TENDER HUSBAND. 93

Good sir, good doctor, go away:
To hear my sighs you must not stay,

For this my poor lost treasure:
I thank you for your pains and skill:
"When next you come, pray bring your bill;

I 'll pay it, sir, with pleasure.
Ye friends who come to mourn her doom,
For God's sake gently tread the room,

Nor call her from the blest—
In softest silence drop the tear,
In whispers breathe the fervent pray'r,

To bid her spirit rest.
Repress the sad, the wounding scream;
I cannot bear a grief extreme—

Enough one little sigh—
Besides, the loud alarm of grief,
In many a mind may start belief,

Our noise is all a lie.

Good nurses, shroud my lamb with care;
Her limbs, with gentlest fingers, spare;

Her mouth, ah! slowly close;
Her mouth a magic tongue that held—
Whose softest tone, at times, compell'd,

To peace, my loudest woes.

And, carpenter, for my sad sake,
Of stoutest oak her coffin make—'.

I 'd not be stingy, sure

Procure of steel, the strongest screws;
For who would paltry pence refuse

To lodge his wife secure?

Ye people who the corpse convey,
With caution tread the doleful way,

Nor shake her precious head;
Since fame reports a coffin tost,
With careless swing against a post,

Did once disturb the dead.

Farewell, my love, for ever lost!
Ne'er troubled be thy gentle ghost,

That I again will woo

By all our past delights, my dear,
No more the marriagechain I 'll wear,

P—x take me if I do!

ON A BAD SINGER.

When screech-owls screek, their note portends
To foolish mortals death of friends:
But when Corvina strains her throat,
E'en screech-owls sicken at the note.

EPIGRAM.

Upon some hasty errand Tom was sent,
And met his parish curate as he Went:
But, just like what he was, a sorry clown;
It seems he passed him with a cover'd crown.
The gownman stopp'd, and turning, sternly said'—.
I doubt, my lad, you 're far worse taught than fed!
Why aye! says Tom, still jogging on, that's true:
Thank God, he feeds me! but I 'm taught by you.

ON A BOWL OF PUNCH.

Whene'er a bowl of punch we make,

Four striking opposites we take;

The strong, the small, the sharp, the sweet,,

Together mix'd, most kindly meet;

And when they happily unite,

The bowl' is pregnant with delight:'

In conversation thus we find,
That four men differently inclin'd,
With talents each distinct; and each
Mark'd by peculiar powers of speech;
With tempers too as much the same
As milk and verjuice, frost and flame;
Their parts by properly sustaining,
May all prove highly entertaining.

EPIGRAM.

Says a beau to a lady, pray name if you can,
Of all your acquaintance, the handsomest man?
The lady replied, if you'd have me speak true,
He's the handsomest man that's the most unlike
you. »

THE LAWYER AND THE CLIENT.

Two lawyers, when a knotty cause was o'er,
Shook hands, and were as good friends as before;
'Zounds!' says the losing client, ' how come yaw
To be such friends, who were such foes just naw?'
Thou fool, says one, we lawyers, tho so keen,
Like shears, ne'er cut ourselves, but what's between.

SIR J. BANKS AND THE THIEF-TAKERS.

(FlSfDlH.)

Sir Joseph, fav'rite of great queens and kings, Whose wisdom, weed and insect hunter sings;

And ladies fair applaud, with smile so dimpling; Went forth one day, amidst the laughing fields, Where nature such exhaustless treasure yields, A simpling!

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96 SIR J. BANKS AND THE THIF.F-TAKEUS.

It happen'd on the self-same morn so bright,
The nimble pupils of Sir Sampson Wright,
A stapling too for plants, call'd Thieves, proceeded;
Of which the nation's fields should oft be weeded.

Now did a thief-taker so sly,
Peep o'er a hedge with cunning eye,

And quick espy'd the knight with solemn air,
Deep in a ditch where water-cresses grow;
On which he to his comrades cry'd, 'See, ho!'

Then junip'd (unsportsman-like) upon his hare.

Hare-like Sir Joseph did not squeak, but bawl'd, With dread prodigiously appall'd

The thief-takers no ceremony us'd; But taking poor Sir Joseph by the neck, They bade him speak;

But first with names their captive knight abus'd.

'Sirs, what d'ye take me for?' the knight exclaim'd

'A thief,' reply'd the runners with a curse: 'And now, sir, let me search you, and be damn'd'— And then they search'd his pockets, fobs and purse:

But 'stead of pistol dire, and crape,

A pocket handkerchief they cast their eye on,
Containing frogs and toads of various shape,
Dock, daisy, nettletop, and dandelion,
To entertain with great propriety,
The members of his sage society:
Yet would not alter they their strong belief,
That this their pris'ner was a thief!

'Sirs, I'm no highwayman,' exclaim'd the knight— 'No—there,"rejoin'd the runners, 'you are right—

'A footpad only—yes we know your trade— 'Yes, you're a pretty babe of grace: •We want no proofs. Old Codger, but your face;

'So come along with us old Blade.'

SIR J. BANKS AND THE THIEF-TAKERS. 97

'Twas useless to resist, or to complain——
In vain, Sir Joseph pleaded—'twas in vain,

That he was highly titled; that he swore

The instant that poor Banks his titles counted,
Which to an F. R. S. and knight amounted,

His guardians Jaugh'd, and clapp'd, and cry'd, 'encore.'

Sir Joseph told them, that a neighboring squire

Should answer for it that he was no thief; On which they plumply damn'd him for a liar, And said such stories should not save his beef; And if they understood their trade, His mittimus would soon be made; And forty pounds be theirs, a pretty sum, For sending such a rogue to kingdom come.

Now to fne squire mov'd pris'ner knight and Ce. The runners taking him in tow,

Like privateers of Britain's warlike nation, Towing a French East-Indiaman, their prize, So black, and of enormous size,

Safe into port for condemnation.

Whether they ty'd his bands behind his back,

For fear the knight might run away, And made, indelicate, his breeches slack,

We've no authority say, And now the country people gather'd round, And star'd upon the knight in thought profound,

Not on the system of Linnaus thinking— Fancying they saw a rogue in every feature;— 13uch is the populace's horrid nature

Tow'rds people thro' misfortune sinking.

At length, amidst much mob and mire,

Indeed amidst innumerable ranks, Fatigu'd they reach'd the mansion of the squire, . To prove th' identity of Joseph Banks.

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