N. B. The second or middle line is to be read with the first

and third, as the following:
--

Quos anguis dirus tristi de vulnere stravit,
Hos sanguis mirus Christi de funere lavit, &c.

THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE.

Genteel in personage,
Conduct, and equipage;

Noble by heritage,

Generous and free;

Brave, not romantic,

Learn'd, not pedantic,
Frolic, not frantic,

Thus must he be.

Honour maintaining,
Meanness disdaining,
Still entertaining,

Engaging and new;
Neat, but not finical,
Sage, but not cynical,
Never tyrannical,

But ever true.

CHOICE OF A WIFE.

FROM MARTIAL.

Pray, would you know, if I should change my life,
What kind of girl I'd choose to be

my wife!
I would not have her be so fond to say,
Yes! at first dash, nor dwell too long on nay!
These too extremes, I hate; then let her be
"Twixt both-not too hard, nor too free!

ON A DEFORMED OLD BAWD DESIGNING TO

HAVE HER PICTURE DRAWN.

Thy picture drawn! foul beldam, thine!
What frenzy haunts thy mind,

And drives thee, on this wild design,
T'affront all womankind.

For, whilst thy swarthy canker'd face
Posterity shall view,

They'll loath the fairest of the race,
For sharing sex with you.

To some forlorn church-yard repair,
And, haggard! thou shalt see,
The fiercest goblin will not dare
To stand the sight of thee.!

Those ghosts, that struck with panic fear
The breasts of stoutest braves,

At thy approach will disappear,
And burrough in their graves.

Fix thy effigies on the shield
Of some bold knight in arms,-
"Twill aid him more to win the field,
Than all his lady's charms.

TO A LADY

On having a Thorn run into her Foot.

Oft have I heard the wisest sages say,
The path of virtue is a thorny way!
If this be true, fair Delia, we may know
What path you tread, what way it is you go.

WHAT'S WIT?

'Tis not what fops in their dear selves admire,
'Tis what we read in Martial, or in Prior.

THEATRICAL WIT.

On the narrow escape of Wrench, the performer, from the houses falling in Exeter Street, and his performing Ernest, in "The Quartette," the same evening.

Ben a patent for throwing off trouble has got;

He jests upon evils the sharpest, the sternest;

In Exeter Street, had he died on the spot,

You would not have seen him this evening in Ernest!

FATE OF A COQUET.

Cloe, a coquet, in her prime,

The vainest, ficklest thing alive,
Behold! the strange effects of time
Marries and doats at forty-five.
So weather-cocks, which for a while
Have veer'd about with every blast,
Grown old, and destitute of oil,
Fix to a point, and rust at last!

A MATRIMONIAL CASE.

My lord and his lady scold, wrangle, and fight—
Yet are both of one mind, and are both in the right.
She calls him a fool! he knows he's not wise;

He calls her a

and she can't say he lies.

THE TRUTH AT LAST.

Said Hodge, in a rage, contradicting his wife, "You never yet told me one truth in your life!" Vex'd Fanny no way could this thesis allow,"You're a cuckold!” cried she; "do I tell the truth now?"

SOLID WORTH IN A WIFE.

When Loveless married Lady Jenny,
Whose beauty was-the "ready penny,"-
"I chose her," said he, “like old plate,
Not for the fashion, but the weight.",

ON A POSITIVE FELLOW.

He's always in the right, I'll hold my tongue;
If I dispute, I must be in the wrong.

CONTRADICTION.

In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow,
Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow,
Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee,
There is no living with-nor yet without thee!

TO CARD-PLAYERS.

BY SWIFT.

Stand further, girl, or get you gone,―
I always lose when you look on;
Nay, madam, give me leave to say,
'Twas you that threw the game away!

Spadillo, here, has got a mark,
A child may know it in the dark;
I guess the hand, it seldom fails,

I wish some folk would pare their nails!

THE LAST DEBT!

His last great debt is paid;-poor Tom's no more!-
Last debt! Tom never paid a debt before!

ON SEEING THE MESSRS. GRIEVE (THREE) ANNOUNCED IN THE COVENT-GARDEN BILL AS SCENE-PAINTERS TO THE THEATRE.

Grieve! Grieve!! Grieve!!! says the Covent-Garden bill. The reader's eye, when these words chance to strike it, Looks for a tragedy, the soul to thrill,

But finds the opening play-As you like it!

A PAUL PRY.

A modern Pry one day " dropp'd in,"
While dinner was about,

Hoped "no offence;" his friend replied,
“Oh, none !”—so just dropp'd out.