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On this fair morn, a spider who had set,
To catch a breakfast, his old waving net,

With cautious art, upon a spangled thorn,
At length with gravely-squinting, longing eye,
Near him espied a pretty, plump, young fly,
Humming her little orisons to morn.

"Good morrow, dear Miss Fly," quoth gallant Grim. "Good morrow, sir," replied Miss Fly to him.

"Walk in, miss, pray, and see what I'm about." "I'm much obliged t' ye, sir," Miss Fly rejoined. "My eyes are both so very good, I find,

That I can plainly see the whole without."

"Fine weather, miss." "Yes, very fine,"
Quoth Miss; "prodigious fine indeed!"
"But why so coy?" quoth Grim, "that you decline
To put within my bower your pretty head?
"'T is simply this,"

Quoth cautious Miss,

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"1 fear you'd like my pretty head so well, You'd keep it for yourself, sir, - who can tell?"

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Then let me squeeze your lovely hand, my dear,
And prove that all your dread is foolish, vain.".
"I've a sore finger, sir; nay more, I fear
You really would not let it go again."

"Poh, poh, child, pray dismiss your idle dread:

I would not hurt a hair of that sweet head

Well, then, with one sweet kiss of friendship meet me."

"La, sir," quoth Miss, with seeming artless tongue,

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I fear our salutation would be long :

So loving, too, I fear that you would eat me."

So saying, with a smile she left the rogue,
To weave more lines of death, and plan for prog.

SPECTACLES, OR HELPS TO READ.

A CERTAIN artist-I've forgot his name—
Had got for making spectacles a fame,

Or "helps to read," as, when they first were sold,

WOLCOTT.

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Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold;
And, for all uses to be had from glass,
His were allowed by readers to surpass.
There came a man into his shop one day -
"Are you the spectacle contriver, pray ?'
"Yes, sir," said he, I can in that affair
Contrive to please you, if you want a pair."-
"Can you ? pray do then." So, at first, he chose
To place a youngish pair upon his nose;

And book produced, to see how they would fit :
Asked how he liked 'em?" Like 'em ? not a bit."--
Then, sir, I fancy, if you please to try,

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These in my hand will better suit your eye."

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No, but they do n't.". "Well, come, sir, if
Ifere is another sort, we 'll e'en try these;

you please,

Still somewhat more they magnify the letter;
Now, sir?"—“Why, now - I'm not a bit the better.".
"No? here, take these that magnify still more;
How do they fit?" "Like all the rest before."
In short, they tried a whole assortment through;
But all in vain, for none of 'em would do.
The operator, much surprised to find

So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind!
"What sort of eyes can you have got?" said he.—
Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see.'
"Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball

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Pray, let me ask you - can you read at all?"
No, you great blockhead; if I could, what need
Of paying you for any helps to read ?'"

And so he left the maker in a heat,
Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat.

BYROM.

LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.

WHO has e'er been in London, that overgrown place,

Has seen, "lodgings to let,

stare him full in the face.

Some are good and let dearly: while some, 't is well known,

Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.

Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely,

Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only;

But Will was so fat, he appeared like a tun,
Or like two single gentlemen rolled into one.

He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated;
But, all the night long, he felt fevered and heated;
And, though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep,
He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep.

Next night 't was the same!—and the next! and the next!
He perspired like an ox; he was nervous, and vexed;
Week after week, till by weekly succession,

His weakly condition was past all expression.

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him;
For his skin "like a lady's loose gown" hung about him.
He sent for a doctor, and cried, like a ninny,
"I've lost many pounds - make me well

there's a guinea.”

The doctor looked wise: "A slow fever," he said;
Prescribed sudorifics, and going to bed.

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Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will, "are humbugs! I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs!"

Will kicked out the doctor: but when ill indeed,
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed;
So, calling his host, he said, "Sir, do you know
I'm the fat single gentleman, six months ago

“Look ye, landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin,
"That with honest intentions you first took me in ;
But from the first night- and to say it I'm bold --
I've been so very hot, that I am sure I caught cold!'

Quoth the landlord, "Till now, I ne'er had a dispute. -..
I've let lodgings ten years, I'm a baker to boot;

In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven;

And your

bed is immediately-over my oven.'

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"The oven ! says Will; says the host, "Why this passion? In that excellent bed died three people of fashion.

Why so crusty, good sir?" "Zounds!" cried. Will in a taking, "Who would not be crusty, with half a year's baking?

Will paid for his rooms:- cried the host with a sneer,

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Well, I see you 've been going

away half a year."

Friend, we can 't well agree; yet no quarrel," Will said; "But I'd rather not perish, while you make your bread."

COLMAN.

THE FAT ACTOR AND THE RUSTIC

CARDINAL WOLSEY was a man

"Of an unbounded stomach," Shakspeare says,
Meaning (in metaphor) for ever puffing
To swell beyond his size and span.
But had he seen a player of our days,
Enacting Falstaff without stuffing,

He would have owned that Wolsey's bulk ideal
Equaled not that within the bounds
This actor's belt surrounds,

Which is, moreover, all alive and real.
This player, when the peace enabled shoals
Of our odd fishes

To visit every clime between the poles,
Swam with the stream, a histrionic kraken :
Although his wishes

Must not in this proceeding be mistaken;
For he went out, professionally bent,

To see how money might be made, not spent.
In this most laudible employ,

He found himself at Lille one afternoon;
And that he might the breeze enjoy,
And catch a peep at the ascending moon,
Out of the town he took a stroll,
Refreshing in the fields his soul

With sight of streams, and trees, and snowy fleeces,
And thoughts of crowded houses, and new pieces.
When we are pleasantly employed time flies:
He counted up his profits, in the skies,

Until the moon began to shine;

On which he gazed awhile, and then

Pulled out his watch, and cried, "Past nine!
Why, zounds, they shut the gates at ten!"
Backward he turned his steps instanter, -
Stumping along with might and main ;
And though 't is plain

He could n't gallop, trot or canter,

(Those who had seen him would confess it,) he

Marched well for one of such obesity.

Eyeing his watch, and now his forehead mopping,

He puffed and blew along the road,

Afraid of meeting, more afraid of stopping;
When in his path he met a clown

Returning from the town:

"Tell me," he panted, in a thawing state,
"Dost think I can get in, friend, at the gate ?"
"Get in!" replied the hesitating loon,
Measuring with his eye our bulky wight,
"Why-yes, sir, I should think you might,-
A load of hay went in this afternoon."

LOGIC.

AN Eton stripling-training for the law,
A dunce at syntax, but a dab at taw,
One happy Christmas, laid upon the shelf
His cap and gown and stores of learned pelf,
With all the deathless bards of Greece and Rome,
To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home.

Returned, and passed the usual how-d' ye-do's,
Inquiries of old friends, and college news.—

"Well, Tom, the road? what saw you worth discerning? How's all at college, Tom? what is 't you 're learning?' Learning?oh, logic, logic; not the shallow rules

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Of Lockes and Bacons, antiquated fools!

But wits' and wranglers' logic; for, d'ye see,
I'll prove as clear as A, B, C,

That an eel-pie's a pigeon; to deny it,

Is to say black 's not black.".

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"Come, let's try it?"-"Well, sir; an eel-pie is a pie of fish.". Agreed." "Fish-pie may be a jack-pie."-"Well, well, proceed." "A jack-pie is a John-pie- and 't is done!

For every John-pie must be a pie-John." (pigeon.)
"Bravo! Bravo!" Sir Peter cries, Logic for ever!
This beats my grandmother, — and she was clever.
But now I think on 't, 't would be mighty hard

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If merit such as thine met no reward:

To show how much I logic love, in course

I'll make thee master of a chestnut-horse."

"A horse!" quoth Tom; "blood, pedigree, and paces' Oh, what a dash I'll cut at Epsom races!"

Tom dreampt all night of boots and leather breeches,
Of hunting cats and leaping rails and ditches;
Rose the next morn an hour before the lark,
And dragged his uncle, fasting, to the park;

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