Upon the ground, Within the pound, The fhilling foon was thrown; Behold, fays Foote, The thing's made out, For there is one pound one. I wonder not, Says Quin, that thought Should in your head be found, Since that's the way, Your debts you pay, One fhilling in the pound. Dialogue Dialogue between a Nobleman, in a Dream, in which he fancied himself dead, and a dead Beggar buried by the Side of him. IDREAMT that, buried in my fellow clay, Close by a common beggar's fide I lay; pride, Thus (like a corpfe of quality) I cry'd : Away! thou fcoundrel; henceforth touch me not;: More manners learn, and at a distance rot.' Thou fcoundrel in a louder tone, cry'd he, Proud lump of dirt, I fcorn thy words and thee;: We're equal now, I'll not an inch refign; This is my dunghill, as the next is thine. Dr. Barnard having advanced in converfation with Sir Joshua Reynolds and other wits, that he thought "no man could "improve when he was paft the age of "forty-five; Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was in company, immediately turned round to the facetious Dean, and told him that he was an inftance to the contrary, for that there was great room for improvement in him (the Dean,) "and wished "he'd fet about it:" upon which, the Dean the next day, fent the following elegant Bagatelle to Sir Joshua Reynolds and the fame company. Verfes to Sir J. Reynolds and Co. I LATELY thought no man alive Could e'er improve past forty-five, The The obfervation was not new, But feem'd to me fa juft and true, "No, Sir" fays Johnson, "tis not fo; Encourag'd thus to mend my faults, Learning and wit feem'd past my reach, Then come, my friends, and try your skill, You can inform me if you will, (My books are at a distance.) With you I'll live and learn, and then, So lend me your affiftance. Dear Dear Knight* of Plympton, teach me how To fuffer with unruffled brow, And fimile ferene like thine, The jeft uncooth, or truth fevere, To fuch I'll turn my deafeft ear, And calmly drink my wine. Thou fay'ft, not only skill is gain'd, I'll Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, The art of pleafing, teach me, Garrick, Oh! could we read thee backward too, If I have thoughts, and can't exprefs 'em, Gibbons fhall teach me how to dress 'em, In terms felect and terfe ; Sir Joshua Reynolds.. Jones |