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Thus fnatching his hat, he brush'd off like the wind, And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my fhelf, And "nobody with me at sea but myself;"* Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hafty, Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison pasty, Were things that I never dislik'd in my life, Tho' clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife: So next day, in due splendour to make my approach, I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach.

When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine) My friend bade me welcome, but ftruck me quite dumb With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; "For I knew it," he cry'd, "both eternally fail, “The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale; "But no matter, I'll warrant we'll make up the party "With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty: "The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew"They both of them merry, and authors like you; "The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge; "Some think he writes Cinna—he owns to Panurge." While thus he defcrib'd them by trade and by name, They enter'd, and dinner was serv'd as they came. At the top a fry'd liver and bacon were seen, At the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen; At the fides there was spinnage and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pafty-was not. Now, my Lord, as for tripe, it's my utter averfion, And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Perfian;

* See the letters that paffed between his Royal Highness Henry Duke of Cumberland and Lady Grofvenor-1769.

So there I fat ftuck, like a horse in a pound, While the bacon and liver went merrily round: But what vex'd me moft, was that d-'d Scottish rogue, With his long-winded fpeeches, his fimiles,and his brogue, And, "madam," quoth he, "may this bit be my poison, "A prettier dinner I never fet eyes on; "Pray, a flice of your liver, though may I be curst, "But I've eat of your tripe, till I'm ready to burst.” "The tripe!" quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek, "I could dine on this tripe seven days in a week: "I like these here dinners fo pretty and finall; "But your friend there the doctor eats nothing at all.” "O-ho!" quoth my friend, "he'll come on in a trice, "He's keeping a corner for fomething that's nice: "There's a pasty”—“A pafty!” repeated the Jew; "I don't care if I keep a corner for't too." "What the de'il, mon, a pafty!" re-echo'd the Scot; "Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for that." "We'll all keep a corner," the lady cry'd out; “We'll all keep a corner,” was echo'd about. While thus we refolv'd, and the pasty delay'd, With looks that quite petrify'd, enter'd the maid! A vifage fo fad, and so pale with affright, Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night! But we quickly found out-forwho could mistake herThat she came with fome terrible news from the baker; And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven Had fhut out the pafty on fhutting his oven! Sad Philomel thus-but let fimilies dropAnd, now that I think on't, the ftory may ftop. To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd, To fend fuch good verfes to one of your taste;

You've got an odd something—a kind of discerning—
A relish-a taste-ficken'd over by learning;
At least it's your temper, as very well known,

That you think very slightly of all that's your own:
So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amifs,
You may make a mistake, and think flightly of this.



WHERE the Red-Lion ftaring o'er the way,
Invites each paffing ftranger that can pay-
Where Calvert's butt, and Parsons' black champaign,
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane;
There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs fnug,
The Mufe found Scroggen ftretch'd beneath a rug!
A window patch'd with paper, lent a ray,
That dimly fhew'd the ftate in which he lay:
The fanded floor that grits beneath the tread;
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;
The Royal Game of Goose was there in view;
And the Twelve Rules the royal martyr drew;
The Seasons, fram'd with lifting, found a place,
And brave Prince William fhew'd his lamp-black face:
The morn was cold, he views with keen defire
The rufty grate unconscious of a fire;

With beer and milk-arrears the frieze was fcor'd,
And five crack'd tea-cups drefs'd the chimney-board;

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night-a ftocking all the day!



SECLUDED from domestic ftrife,

Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five
Made him the happiest man alive-
He drank his glafs, and crack'd his joke,
And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.

Such pleafures, unalloy'd with care,
Could any accident impair?
Could Cupid's fhaft at length transfix
Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-fix!
Oh! had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town!
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!
Oh! had her eyes forgot to blaze,
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze!
Oh! But let exclamation ceafe-
Her prefence banish'd all his peace:
So, with decorum all things carry'd,
Mifs frown'd,and blush'd,and then was-marry'd.
Need we expofe to vulgar fight

The raptures of the bridal night?

Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains, clos'd around?
Let it fuffice, that each had charms-
He clafp'd a goddess in his arms,

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And, tho' fhe felt his vifage rough,
Yet in a man 'twas well enough.

The honey-moon like lightning flew-
The fecond brought its tranfports too-
A third, a fourth, were not amifs-
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss;
But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay-
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arofe from powder, fhreds, or lace;
But ftill the worst remain'd behind-
That very face had robb'd her mind!

Skill'd in no other art was she
But dreffing, patching, repartee;
And, just as humour rofe or fell,
By turns a flattern or a belle:
'Tis true the drefs'd with modern grace-
Half naked at a ball or race;

But when at home, at board or bed,
Five greafy night-caps, wrapt her head.
Could fo much beauty condefcend
To be a dull domeftic friend?
Could any curtain-lectures bring
To decency fo fine a thing?

In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting-
By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.

Fond to be feen, the kept a bevy
Of powder'd coxcombs at her levee;
The 'fquire and captain took their stations,
And twenty other near relations:

Jack fuck'd his pipe, and often broke
A figh in fuffocating fmoke;

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