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With salt box, pepper box, and kettle,

Joyous to breakfast they sat round, With all the culinary metal.-.

Nor were asham'd to eat a pound. Be war'd, ye fair, by Susan's crosses,

These were the manners, these the ways, Keep chaste, and guard yourselves from losses ; In good queen Bess's golden days; For if young girls delight in kissing,

Each damsel ow'd her bloom and glee,
No wonder, that the poker's missing.

To wholesome elbow-grease, and me,
But now they centre all their joys
In empty rattle traps and noise.

Thus where the fates send you, they send TAE TEA POT AND SCRUBBING

Flagitious times, which ne'er will mend,

'Till some philosopher can find,

A scrubbing-brush to scour the mind.”
ATAwORY tea-pot, a-la-mode,
Whereart ber utmost skill bestow'd,
Was much esteem'd for being old,

And on its sides with red and gold
Strange beasts were drawn, in taste Chinese, What's honour, did your lordship say:
And frightful fish, and hump-back trees.

My lord, I humbly crave a day.-High in an elegant beaufet,

'Tis difficult, and in my mind, This pompous utensil was set,

Like substance, cannot be defin'd. And pear it, on a marble slab,

It deals in numerous externals, Porsaken by some careless drab,

And is a legion of infernals ; A veteran scrubbing-brush was plac'd,

Sometimes in riot and in play, And the rich furniture disgrac'd.

Tis breaking of the Sabbath day: The tea-pot soon began to flout,

When 'tis consider'd as a passion, And thus its venom spouted ont :

I deem it lust and fornication. " Who from the scullery or yard,

We pay our debts in honour's cause, Brought in this low, this vile blackguard,

Lost in the breaking of the laws : And laid in insolent position,

'Tis for some selfish impious end, Among us people of condition ?

To murder the sincerest friend ;
Back to the helper in the stable,

But wou'd you alter all the clan,
Scoar the close-stool, or wash-house table; Turn out an honourable man.
Or cleanse some horsing block, or plank,

Why take a pistol from the shelf,
Nor dare approach us folks of rank.

And fight a duel with yourself.Turn-brother coffee-pot, your spout,

'Twas on a time, the Lord knows when, Otserse the nasty stinking lout,

In Ely, or in Lincoln fen, Who seems to scorn my indignation,

A frog and mouse had long disputes, Nor pays due homage to my fashion;

Held in the language of the brutes, Take, silver sugar dish, a view,

Who of a certain pool and pasture, And, cousin cream pot, pray do you.”

Shou'd be the sovereign and master. ** Pox on you all,” replies old Scrub,

Sir,” says the frog, and damn'd his blood, “Of coxcombs ye confederate club,

“ I hold that my pretension's good; Poll of impertinence, and prate,

Nor can a brute of reason doubt it, Ye hate all things that are sedate.

For all that you can squeak about it.” None but such ignorant infernals,

The mouse, averse to be o'erpower'd, Judge, by appearance, and externals:

Gave him the lie, and call'd him coward ; Train'd up in toil and useful knowledge,

Too hard for any frog's digestion, I'm fellow of the kitchen college,

To have his froghood call'd in question ! And with the mop, my old associate,

A bargain instantly was made, The family affairs negociate.

No mouse of honour could evade, Am foe to filth, and things obscene,

On the next morn, as soon as light, Dirty by making others clean.

With desperate bullrushes to fight; Not shining, yet I cause to shine,

The morning came—and man to man, My roughness makes my neighbours line;

The grand monomachy began ; You're fair without, but foul within,

Need I recount how each bravado, With shame impregnated, and sin;

Shone in montant and in passado; To you each impious scandal's owing,

To what a height their ire tbey carry'd, You set each gossip's clack a going.

How oft they thrusted and they parry'd; How Parson Tythe in secret sins,

But as these champions kept dispensing, And bow Miss Dainty brought forth twins:

Finesses in the art of fencing, How dear delicious Polly Bloom,

A furions vulture took upon her, Oxes all her sweetness to perfume;

Quick to decide this point of honour, Though grare at church, and cards can bet, And, lawyer like, to make an end on't, A: once a prude and a coquette.

Devour'd both plaintiff and defendant, 'Twas better for each British virgin,

Thus, often in our British nation, Whea on roast beef, strong beer, and sturgeon, (I speak by way of application)

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The lime tree and sweet-scented bay;

Which certain bee, if rightly known, (The sole reward of many a lay)

Wou'd prove no better than a drone; And all the poets of the wing,

There are (but I shall name no names, Who sweetly without salary sing,

I never love to kindle flames) Attract at once his observation,

A pack of rogues with crimes grown callous, Peopling thy wilds, Imagination!

Who greatly wou'd adorn the gallows; ~ Sweet Nature, who this turf bedews,

That with the wasps, for paltry gold,

A secret correspondence hold,
Sweet Nature, who's the thrush's Muse!
How she each anxious thought beguiles,

Yet you'll be great your subjects free,
And meets me with ten thousand smiles!

If the whole thing be left to me.--"

Thus, like the waters of the ocean, O infinite benignity!

His tongue had run in ceaseless motion, She smiles, but not alone on me;

Had not the queen ta'en up in wrath, On hill, on dale, on lake, on lawn,

This thing of folly and of froth. Like Celia when her picture's drawn ;

“ Impertinent and witless meddler, Assuming countless charms and airs,

Thou smattering, empty, noisy pedler! "Till Hayman's matchless art despairs,

By vanity, thou bladder blown, Pausing like me he dreads to fall

To be the football of the town. From the divine original.”

O happy England, land of freedom, More had he said--but in there came

Replete with statesmen, if she need 'em, A lout--Squire Booby was bis name.

Where war is wag'd by Sue or Nell, The bard, who at a distant view

And Jobson is a Machiavel! The busy prattling blockhead knew,

Tell Hardwick that his judgment fails, Retir'd into a secret nook,

Show Justice how to hold her scales.And thence his observations took,

To fire the soul at once, and please, Vex'd he cou'd find no man to teaa,

Teach Murray and Demosthenes; The squire 'gan chattering to the bees,

Say Vane is not by goodness grac'd, And pertly with officious mien,

And wants humanity and taste.He thus address'd their humming queen :

Tho' Pelham with Mæcenas vies, “ Madam, be not in any terrours;

Tell Fame she's false, and Truth she lies; I only come t'amend your errours ;

And then return, thou verbal Hector, My friendship briefly to display,

And give the bees another lecture.” And put you in a better way.

This said, the portal she unbarrd, Cease, madam, (if I may advise)

Calling the bees upon their guard, To carry honey on your thighs,

And set at once about his ears Employ ('tis better, I aver)

Ten thousand of her grenadiers. Old Grub, the fairies' coach-maker;

Some on his lips and palate hung, For he who has sufficient art

And the offending member stung. To make a coach, may make a cart.

“ Just” (says the bard from out the grot) To these you'll yoke some sixteen bees,

“Just, though severe, is your sad lot, Who will dispatch your work with ease ;

and And come and go,

Who think, and talk, and live in vain,. and come,

Of sweet society the bane. To bring your honey harvest home.

Business misplac'd is a mere jest,
Ma'am, architecture you're not shill'd in,

And active idleness at best."
I don't approve your way of building;
In this there's nothing like design,
Pray learn the use of Gunter's line,
I'll serve your highness at a pinch,

I am a scholar every inch,
And know each author Ilay fist on,

From Archimedes down to Wbiston.
Though honey making be your trade,

In chemistry you want some aid.-
Pleas'd with your work, altho' you sing,

I LOVE my friend--but love my ease,
You're not quite right-'tis not the thing.

And claim a right myself to please ; Myself wou'd gladly be an actor,

To company however prone, To help the honey manufacture.

At times all men wou'd be alone.
I hear for war you are preparing,

Free from each interruption rude,
Which I should like to have a share in :
Yet though the enemy be landing,

Or what is meant by solitude.
Tis wrong to keep an army standing.–

My villa lies within the bills, If you'll ensure me from ibe laws,

Som like a theatre it fils : I'll write a pamphlet in your cause.

To me my kind acquaintance stray, I vow, I am concern'd to see

And Sunday proves no sabbath day; Your want of state-economy.

Yet many a friend aud near relation, Of nothing living I pronounce ill,

Make up a glorious congregation ; But I don't like your privy-council.

They crowd by dozens and by dozens, There is, I know, a certain bee,

And bring me all their country cousins. (Wou'd he was from the ministry)

Though cringing landlords on the road,
Who tind for man and horse abode;

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The lion thank'd him for his proffer,
Though gilded grapes to sign-post cbain'd,

And if a vacancy shou'd offer,
Invite them to be entertain'd,

Declard he had too just a notion,
And straddling cross bis kilderkin,

To be averse to such promotion,
Though jolls Bacchus calls them in ;

The citizen drove off with joy,
Nas—though my landlady wou'd trust 'em,

“ For London-Ball--for London-hoy."
Pilgarlic's sure of all the custom ;

Content to bed he went his way,
And his whole house is like a fair,
Unless he only treats with air.

And is no bankrupt to this day.
What? sball each pert half witted wit,
That calls me Jack, or calls me Kit,
Prey on my time, or on my table?

No-but let's basten to the fable.
The eve advanc'd, the Sun declind,

Ball to the booby-hutch was join'd,
A wealthy cockney drove away,

Nobilitas sula est atque unica virtus.
To celebrate Saint Saturday ;

Wife, daughter, pug, all crouded in,

To meet at country house their kin.

with friend Juvenal agree,
Thro' Breatford, to fair Twickenham's bow'rs,

Virtue's the true nobility;
The ungreas'd grumbling axle scow'rs,

Has of herself sufficient charms,
To pass in rural sweels a day,

Altho' without a cuat of arms.
But there's a lion in the way :

llonestus does not know the rules,
This lion a most furious elf,

Concerning Or and Fez, and Gules,
Hung up to represent himself,

Yet sets the wond'ring eye to gaze on,
Redden'd with rage, and shook bis mane,

Such deeds no herald e'er could blaze on.
And roar'd, and roar'd, and roar'd again.

Tawdry achievements out of place,
Wond'rous, tho' painted on a board,

Do but augment a fixol's disgrace ;
He roard, and roar'd, and roar'd, and roar'd. A coward is a double jest,
" Pool!" (says the majesty of beasts)

Wbo has a lion for his crest;
At whose expense a legion feasts,

And things are come to such a pass,
Foe to yourself, you those pursue,

Two horses may support an ass;
Who're eating up your cakes and you ;

And on a gamester or buffoon,
Walkio, walk in, (so prudence votes)

A moral motto's a lampoon.
And give poor Ball a feed of oats,

An honest rustic having done
Lmk to yourself, and as for ina’ın,

His master's work 'wixt sun and sun,
Coax her to take a little dram;

Retir'd to dress a little spot,
Let Miss and Pug with cakes be fed,

Adjoining to his homely cot,
Then, honest man, go back to bed ;

Where pl as’d, in miniature, he found
You're better, and you're cheaper there,

His landlord's culniary ground,
Where are no hangers on to fear.

Some herbs that feed, and some that heal,
Go buy friend Newbery's new Panthcon,

The winter's medicine or meal.
And con the tale of poor Acteon,

The sage, which in bis garden seen,
Hom'd by Diana, and o'erpower'd,

No man need ever die ' I wecn;
And by the dogs he fed devour'd.

The marjoram comely to behold,
What he receiv'd froin charity,

With thyme, and ruddiest marygold,
Lessiness perhaps may give to thee;

And mirt and pennyroyal sweet,
And tho' your spouse my lecture scorns,

To deck the cottage windows meet,
Beware his fate, beware his horns."

And baum, that yields a finer juice
"Sir," says the Cit, (who made a stand, Than all that China can produce;
And strok'd his forehead with his band)

With carrots red, and turnips white,
“By your grim gravity and grace,

And leeks, Cadwallader's delight;
You greatly wou'd become the mace.

And all the savory crop that vie
This kind advice I gladly take, -

To please the palate and the eye.
Draw'r, bring the dram, and bring a cake, Thus, as intent, he did survey
With good brown iseer that's brisk and humming." His plot, a Herald came that way,
" A coming, sir! a coming, coming!”

A man of great escutcheon'd knowledge,
The Cit then took a hearty draught,

And member of the motley college.
And shook his jolly sides and laugh’d.

Heedless the peasant pass'd he by,
Then to the king of beasts he bow'd,

Indulging this soliloquy;
And thus bis gratitnde avow'd.-

“ Ye gods! what an enorinous space,
Sir, for your sapient oration,

'Twixt man and man does Nature place;
ose the greatest obligation.

While some by deels of honour rise,
You stand expos’d to sun, and show'r,

To such a height, as far out-vies
I know Jack Ellis of the Tow'r;

The visible diurnal sphere;
By him you soon may gain renown,

While others, like this rustic here,
He'll show your highness to the town;

Grope in the groveling ground content,
Or, if you chuse your station here,

Without or lincage or descent,
To call forth Britops to their beer,
As painter of distinguish'd note,

'Cur moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in

He'll send his man to clean your coat."


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Hail, Heraldry! mysterious art,

Thou to thy doom, old boy, art fated, Bright patroness of all desert,

To morrow—and thou shalt be baited." Mankind would on a level lie,

The deed was done-curse on the wrong! And undistinguisb'd live and die;

Bloody description, hold thy tongue.-Depriv'd of thy illustrious aid,

Victorious yet the ball return'd, Such! so momentous is our trade."

And with stern silence inly mourn'd. Sir,” says the clown, “why sure you joke,” A vet’ran, brave, majestic cock, (And kept on digging as he spoke)

Who serv'd for hour glass, guard, and clock, “ And prate not to extort conviction,

Who crow'd the mansion's first relief, But merrily by way of fiction.

Alike from goblin aud from thief; Say, do your manuscripts attest,

Whose youth escap'd the Christmas skillet, What was old father Adam's crest;

Whose vigour brav'd the Shrovetide billet, Did he a nobler coat receive

Had just return'd in wounds and pain, In right of marrying Mrs. Eve;

Triumphant from the barbarous train. Or had supporters when he kiss'd her,

By riv'let's brink, with trees o'ergrown, On dexter side, and side sinister;

He heard bis fellow sufferer's moan; Or was his motto, prithee speak,

And greatly scorning wounds and smart, English, French, Latin, Welch, or Greek ; Gave bim three cheers with all his heart. Or was he not, without a lye,

“Rise, neighbour, from that pensive attitude, Just such a nobleman as I ?

Brave witness of vile man's ingratitude; Virtue, which great defects can stifle,

And let us both with spur and horn, May beam distinction on a trifle ;

The cruel reasoning monster scorn. And honour, with her native charms,

Methinks at every dawn of day, May beautify a coat of arms;

When first I chant my blithsome lay, Realities somewhat will thrive,

Methinks I hear from out the sky,
E’en by appearance kept alive;

All will be better by and by ;
But by themselves, Gules, Or, and Fez, When bloody, base, degenerate man,
Are cyphers neither more or less :

Who deviates from his Maker's plan;
Keep both thy head and hands from crimes, Who Nature and her works abuses,
Be honest in the worst of times :

And thus bis fellow servants uses, Health's on my countenance impress’d,

Shall greatly, and yet justly want, And sweet content's diy daily guest,

The mercy he refus'd to grant; My fame alone I build on this,

And (while his heart his conscience purges) And Garter King at Arms may kiss."

Shall wish to be the brute he scourges.”




Yes—we excell in arts and arms,
In learning's lore and beauty's charms.
The seas wide empire we engross,

All nations hail the British cross;
The land of liberty we tread,

When ruld by truth and nature's ways,
And woe to his devoted head,

When just to blame, yet fix'd to praise, Who dares the contrary advance,

As votary of the Delphic god,
One Englishmau's worth ten of France.

I reverence the critic's rod;
These these are truths, what man won't write for, But when inflam'd with spite alone,
Won't swear, won't bully, or won't fight for;

I hold all critics but as one;
Yet (tho' perhaps I speak thro' vanity)

For though they class themselves with art, Wou'd we'd a little unore humanity;

And each man takes a different part; Too far, I fear, I've drove the jest,

Yet whatsoe'er they praise and blame; So leave to cock and bull the rest.

They in their motives are the same, A bull, who'd listen'd to the vows

Forth as she waddled in the brake, Of above fifteen hundred cows;

A grey goose stumbled on a snake, And serv'd his master fresh and fresh,

And took th'occasion to abuse her, With hecatombs of special flesh,

And of rank plagiarism accuse her. Like to an hermit or a dervise,

“ 'Twas I," quoth she, “in every vale, (Grown old and feeble in the service)

First hiss'd the noisy nightingale; Now left the meadow's green parade,

And boldly cavill'd at each note, And sought a solitary shade.

"That twitter'd in the woodlark's throat: The cows proclaim'd in mournful-lowing, I, who sublime and more than mortal, The bull's deficiency in wooing,

Must stoop to enter at the portal, And to their disappointed master,

Have ever been the first to show All told the terrible disaster.

My bate to every thing that's lɔw; “ Is this the case" (quoth Hodge) “O rare! While thou, mean mimic of my manner, But hold, to morrow is the fair.

(Without inlisting to my banner)

Darist in thy grov'liog situation,
To counterfeit my sibilation."

The snake enrag'd, reply'd, “Know, madam,

I date my charter down from Adam;

Nor can 1, since I bear the bell,
E er imitate where I excell.

A BAG-wig of a jauntee air.
Had any other creature dar'd

Trick'd up with all a barber's care,
Once to aver, what you've averr'd,

Loaded with powder and perfume,
I might have been more fierce and fervent, Hung in a spendtitrift's dressing-room':
But you're a goose,—and so your servant." Close by its side, by chance convey'd,
“Truce with your folly and your pride,” A black tobacco-pipe was laid ;
The warbling Philomela cry'd;

And with its vapours far and near, “ Since no more animals we find

Outstunk the essence of Monsieur; In nature of the hissing kind,

At which its rage, the thing of hair, You should be friends with one another,

Thus, bristling up, began declare. Nay, kind as brother is to brother.

" Bak'd dirt! that with intrusion rude Por know, thou pattern of abuse,

Break'st in upon my solitude, Thou snake art but a crawling goose;.

And whose offensive breath defiles And thou dull dabbler in each lake,

The air for forty thousand miles
Art nothing but a feather'd snake."

Avaunt-pollution's in thy touche
O barb'rous Englishman! horrid Dutch !
I cannot bear it--Here, Sue, Nan,

Go call the maid to call the man,
MRS. ABIGAIL AND THE DUMB And bid him come without delay,

To take this odious pipe away.

Hideous! sure some one smok'd thee, friend, FABLE XV.

Reversely, at his t'other end.

Oh! what mix'd odours! wbat a throng With frowning brow, and aspect low'ring,

Of salt and sour; of stale and strong! As Abigail one day was scow'ring,

A most unnatural combination, From chair to chair she past along,

Enough to mar all perspirationWithout soliloquy or song;

Monstrous ! again—'twou'd vex a saint 1 Content, ja humdrum mood, t'adjust

Susan, the drops or else I faint !" Her matters to disperse the dust.

The pipe (for 'twas a pipe of soul) Thus plodded on the sullen fair,

Raising himself apon his bole, Till a dumb-waiter claim'd her care;

In smoke, like oracle of old, , She then in rage, with shrill salute,

Did thus his sentiments unfold.. Bespoke the inoffensive mute:

“Why, what's the matter, Goodman Swagget, “ Thou stupid tool of vapourish asses,

Thou flaunting French, fantastic bragger? With thy brown shelves for pots and glasses ;

Whose whole fine speech is (with a pox) Thon foreign whirligig, for whom

Ridiculous and heterodox. Us honest folks must quit the room,

'Twas better for the English nation And, like young misses at a christ'ning,

Before such scoundrels came in fashion, Are forc'd to be content with list’ning;

When none sought hair in realms unknown, Though thou’rt a fav'rite of my master's,

But every blockhead bore his own. 'll set thee gadding on thy castors.”

Know, puppy, I'm an English pipe, This said with many a rough attack,

Deem'd worthy of each Briton's gripe, She scrubb’d him 'till she made him crack;

Who, with my cloud-compelling aid, Insulted stronger still and stronger,

Help our plantations and our trade, The poor dumb thing could hold no longer

And am, when sober and when mellow, “Thou drab, born mops and brooms to datidle,

An upright, downright, honest fellow. Thou haberdasher of small scandal,

Though fools, like you, may think me rough, Factor of family abuse,

And scorn me, 'cause I am in buff, Retailer of domestic news;

Yet your contempt I glad receive, My lord, as soon as I appear,

'Tis all the fame that you can give: Confines thee in thy proper sphere;

None finery or fopp'ry prize, Or else, at er'ry place of call,

But they who've something to disguise; The chandler's shop, or cobler's stall,

For simple nature hates abuse,
Or ale-house, where (for petty tales,

And plainness is the dress of Use.”
Gin, beer, and ale are constant vails)
Fach word at table that was spoke,
Wou'd soon become the public joke,
And cheerful innocent converse,

To scandal warp'd-or something worse.
Whene'er my master I attend,

Preely his mind he can unbend ;-

OLD Care, with industry and art, But when such praters fill my place,

At length so well had play'd his part;
Then nothing should be said-but grace,”

He heap'd up such an ample store,
That av'rice could not sigh for more:

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