SHORT COMMONS; OR MRS. B-N AND THE
COLONEL.

If actresses trip, they have often good ground
For doing what others may properly shun;
What woman, for instance, on earth could be found,
Content to live all through the year on a Bun?

ON SUICIDE.

BY MARTIAL.

When all the blandishments of life are gone,
The coward creeps to death-the brave lives on.

DR. ALDRICK'S FIVE REASONS FOR DRINKING

WINE.

Good wine, a friend, or being dry,
Or lest we should be, by and bye,
any other reason why.

Or

HENRY THE FOURTH AND HIS AMBASSADOR.

Bassompière told, in jocund strain,
His king how he had entered Spain.
""Twas on a mule," said he; and there,

Believe me, it made thousands stare."

Henry, mirth sparkling in his eye,

Gave the ambassador reply:

"No wonder,-seeing so strange a sight,
I think it probable they might

Indulge in sportive ridicule,

To see an ass bestride a mule."
"Sire, what you say is very true,
They saw I represented you!"

ON SEEING THE STATUE OF A NEGRO IN DISTRESS, ERECTED IN ST. CLEMENTS INN.

In vain, poor sable son of woe,

Thou seeks't a tender ear;

In vain thy tears with anguish flow,
mercy dwells not here.

For

From cannibals thou fly'st in vain,

Lawyers less quarter give:

The first won't eat you till you're slain,-
The last will do't alive!

LIARS COMPARED.

Such a liar is Tom, there's none can lie faster,
Excepting his maid, and she'll lie with her master.

ON DEAN SWIFT'S LEAVING HIS FORTUNE TO
BUILD AN HOSPITAL FOR IDIOTS.

The Dean must die, vile idiots to maintain!
Perish, ye idiots! and long live the Dean!

OR THUS.

The Dean to idiots leaves his boundless store:
Be wise, ye rich-consider this, ye poor!

THE CUCKOLD'S HALF.

When Thomas calls his wife his half,
I like the fellow's whim;

For why? she horns him!-so, the jilt
Belongs but half to him!

ON CERTAIN RELIGIOUS PREJUDICES.

BY SWIFT.

Who can believe, with common sense,
A bacon slice gives God offence?

Or how a herring hath a charm

Almighty anger to disarm ?
Wrapt up in majesty divine,
Does he regard on what we dine!

THE PLAGIARIST POET.

Tom so fond of the name of a poet is grown,
With gold he buys verses, and calls them his own.
Go on, my good friend, nor mind what the world says,--
They are surely his own for which a man pays.

ON MAIDS.

Most maids resemble Eve now in their lives,
Who are no sooner women, but they're wives.

THE UNLUCKY DISCOVERY.

When Popish Will was scolded by his priest,
His wife sat by, who just had been confess'd;
She heard with patience, while the reverend chief
Call'd her good man dog, villain, traitor, thief;
But when, with scorn, by way of epilogue,
He brought out, "stupid, cuckoldly, poor rogue,"
With indignation from her seat she rose,
And seiz'd him by his venerable nose:-

"Has grace upon thy heart left no impression,

Thou perjur'd wretch! what! publish my confession!"

ON AN OLD WOMAN WHO USED ART.

Leave off thy paint, perfumes, and youthful dress, And nature's failing honestly confess.

Double we see those faults which art would mend,Plain downwright ugliness would less offend.

ON AN OLD WOMAN'S WIG.

The golden hair that Galla wears,
Is hers? who would have thought it?
She swears 'tis hers-and true she swears,
For I know where she bought it!

ON COURTING IN VERSE.

"Go!" said old Syco, "senseless lover, go,
And with soft verses court the fair; but know,
With all thy verses thou canst get no more
Than fools, without one verse, have got before."
Enraged at this, upon the wretch I flew,

And that that most enraged me, was-'twas true.

ON WIT.

True wit is like the brilliant stone,
Dug from the India mine,

Which boasts two various powers in one,

To cut as well as shine.

Genius, like this, if polish'd right,

With the same gifts abounds;

Appears at once both keen and bright,

And sparkles whilst it wounds.

EPIGRAMMATIC SCRAPS.

ON AN UGLY LADY.

When in the dark on thy soft hand I hung,
And heard the tempting syren in thy tongue,
What flames, what darts, what anguish, I endured!
But when the candle enter'd—I was cured!

ON DISCOURSE.

From men's discourse their different skills we find,
And see the turn and bias of their mind.

Clio still talks of past things, and to come,
And all we learn is-that he is not dumb.

THE DEAN AND THE LORD LIEUTENANT.

Dean Swift being sent for by Lord Cartaret, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and being made to wait in the council chamber alone, wrote, with a diamond, on the window

My very good lord, 'tis a very hard task

For a man to wait here, who has nothing to ask.

His Lordship, coming soon after, wrote under it—

My very good dean, there are few who come here,
But have something to ask, or something to fear.

HOLY ALLIANCE!

BY LORD BYRON.

The bless'd alliance, which says, three* are all !
An earthly Trinity! which wears the shape
Of heaven's-as man is mimick'd by the

A pious unity! in purpose one

To melt three fools into a Napoleon!

* Austria, Russia, and Prussia.

ape.