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Scarfs, furbelows, for routs and public days,
Racamian ringlets, and Parisian stays:
Ere yet, in gaudy pride, she join’d the Show,
While loudly rang the merry bells of Bow,
And eager crowds in gath'ring numbers press’d,
To Betty thus her feelings she express'd :
Aid me, Apollo, while I touch the string !
For what Belinda said—the Muse shall sing.

“ Let noble dames our pageants hold in sport, And boast the soft refinements of a court, Look down with pity on the sons of earth, Who claim no title to superior birth; Be theirs the joys of fashionable strife, Be mine the pleasures of a City life! What pleasing visions swim before my sight, By day the dinner, and the dance by night! A thousand glitt'ring tapers gild the Hall, And lo! a young Adonis, straight and tall, Perchance just landed from some foreign tour, Asks me to dance a minuet-de-la-cour. Methinks I hear th' admiring gazers cry,

Some Goddess has descended from on high, To raise our wonder, and to charm our sight, For sure no mortal ever stepp'd so light !'Then how 'twill give my enemies the vapours, To see it mention'd in the public papers :



- Last night my Lady danc'd with such an air, Terpsichore had blush'd had she been there ; Her eyes discharg'd so many killing darts, That half the common council lost their hearts ! A crown, or ten-and-sixpence at the most, Will get a puff inserted in the Post.

It was my passion, I remember well,
My early pride and glory, to excel;
For when at school,—the governess confess'd

sung, danc’d, play'd, far better than the rest.
In riper years I still retain'd my pride,
When rival Lovers woo'd me for their bride.
My Father would have chosen for his heir,
A Buck of Fashion from St. James's Square;
But I, although no conjurer, could see
He lov'd himself too well, to die for me.
The Country Squire's politeness knew no bounds,
He swore he lov'd me better than his hounds,
Spoke his regard with emphasis and force,
And bid me dread no rival-but his Horse.
The spruce Attorney, apeing Cupid's brogue,
Could hardly, in the lover, sink the rogue ;
But he, too eager, overplay'd his cards,
I trick'd him—with a Captain in the Guards,
Whose pockets, while they strove my heart to win,
Had too much gold outside, t' have much within !


How sweet to hear,when, as the barge we board, The folks exclaim,- My Lady! and


Lord !' They shout !—and gladly welcome our approach ! And see! they drag the horses from our coach ! For free-born Britons love these low pursuits, To show how well they imitate the brutes.

And, should the Regent in his grace (God bless

him!) When next the Court of Aldermen address him, Think fit, (the thought transports me with delight!) To dub my Spouse, by making him a Knight; How will the glorious news, the tidings rare, Make all our wond'ring City neighbours stare ! What busy scandal will their tongues employ, They'll almost die with envy-I with joy!

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". But hark! the trumpets and the horns below! The carriage waits!—I'm summon'd to the Show!--O patience! what a flurry I am in !Here, Betty, put this patch upon my chin ! A glass of water ! I shall surely faint !Run, Betty !---you had nigh forgot the paint ! My case is trying, and my nerves are weak; Oh, shocking! here's a pimple on my cheek! This sudden greatness overcomes me quite, Heav'n keep me in my proper wits to-night!"





Cives. Stop, Curio, what disaster prompts thy

No storm is nigh, no bailiff is in sight!
Not Buonaparte flies faster when he wheels,
With twenty thousand Cossacks at his heels !
What, has thy wife (I tremble to inquire)
Once more elop'd, and set thy house on fire ?

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Curio. I have no time for parley,-once for all — From
I go to hear a trial at Guildhall :
A case of libel, but I really doubt,
If Garrow's quibbling tongue can make it out:
Defendant's counsel promises the court
Much private information, deal of sport;


bus'ness prove to-morrow's care, Why all the world will be assembled there; Great Garble threatens, for he owes a grudge,-

Civ. Hush ! recollect that Garble is a judge !
More potent than a bashaw with three tails,
So have a care of penalties and jails ;
His quick resentment reason never stems,


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He bullies first;—(but mum,-) and then condemns.

Cur. 'Tis hard that vice should lord it-

Hard indeed! I like your errand, and commend your speed.

Cur. Then come, and bear me company ;--


They reach'd the Hall, where, in familiar chat
And confab close, a tribe of lawyers sat.
There Garrow spouted with undaunted face,

Sir Thomas Plomer put his case ;
There Topping told the causes he had won,
And Best was all antithesis and pun;
There Clifford (who, through Covent Garden porch
From last night's revel sail'd behind a torch,)
Bawl'd rudely, as when reeling through the town,
He bilks a fare, or knocks a watchman down,
Or pleads, as he is wont, for half-a-crown!
When lo! (a signal that the time was come,)
My Lord Chief Justice Garble gave a hum!
His gown he folded with repeated twirls;
And shook like Jove his long ambrosial curls :
Prevailing Dulness in his features dawn'd,
And thrice he bit his thumbs, and thrice he yawn'd!
When, after num'rous shrugs, and inward throes,
Great Garble's pupil, Serjeant Splitbrain, rose !
Renown'd for gross vulgarity of speech,


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