XXXVIII.—LAUGH AND GROW FAT.
W. M. PRAED
THERE'S nothing here on earth deserves
One half the thought we waste about it. And thinking but destoys the nerves,
When we could do as well without it, If folks would let the world go round,
And pay their tithes, and eat their dinners, Such doleful looks would not be found
To frighten us poor laughing sinners. Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!
One plagues himself about the sun,
And puzzles on, through every weather,
What time he'll rise-how long he'll run,
And when he'll leave us altogether.
No matters it a pebble-stone,
Whether he dines at six or seven ?
If they don't leave the sun alone,
At last they'll plague him out of heaven!
Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!
Another spins from out his brains
Fine cobwebs to amuse his neighbors, And gets, for all his toil and pains,
Reviewed and laughed at for his labors;
Fame is his star! and fame is sweet :
And praise is pleasanter than honey
I write at just so much a sheet,
And Messrs. Longman pay the money. Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!
My brother gave his heart away
To Mercandotti, when he met her,
She married Mr. Ball one day—
He's gone to Sweeden to forget her ;
I had a charmer, too—and sighed
And raved all day and night about her ;
She caught a cold, poor thing! and died,
And I-am just as fat without her.
Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!
For tears are vastly pretty things,
But make one very thin and taper; And sighs are music's sweetest strings,
Yet sound most beautiful-on paper! "Thought" is the gazer's brightest star,
Her gems alone are worth his finding; But, as I'm not particular,
Please God! I'll keep on "never minding,"
Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!
Ah! in this troubled world of ours,
A laughter-mine's a glorious treasure
And separating thorns from flowers,
Is half a pain and half a pleasure;
And why be grave instead of gay y?
Why feel athirst while folks are quaffing?
Oh! trust me, whatsoe'ver they say,
There's nothing half so good as laughing!
Never cry while you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!
XXXIX.-DOT FRITZEY.
THOS. H. WINNETT.
KIN saw you, you shly leedle raskell,
A beekin' ad me drough dot shair;
Come here righd avay now, und kiss me-
You dought I don'd know you vas dere.
You all der dime hide from your fader,
Und subbose he can't saw mit his eyes;
You vas goin' to fool me-eh, Fritzey?
Und gofe me a grade big surprise.
Dot boy vas a reckular monkgey—
Dere vas noding so high he don'd glimb;
Und his mudder she says dot his drowsers,
Vant new bosoms in dem all der dime.
He was shmard, dough; dot same leedle feller,
Und he sings all der vile like a lark
From vonce he gids ub in der mornin'
Dill ve drofe him to bed afder dark.
He's der bestesd von in der family,
Und I bed you der louder he sings
He vas raising der dickens mit some one-
He vas ub to all manner of dings.
He vas beekin' avay, dot young raskell
Drough der shair-Moly Hoses! vot is dot?
Dot young son of a gun mit a sceesors
Is cud all der dail off der cat.
XL.-COMIC NAUTICAL ADDRESS.
OLD! Hold! avast, boatswain, (to PROMPTER) 'ere anchor we weigh,
Permit an old seaman a few words to say.
What cheer? I hope hearty--it makes the heart glow
To bid welcome to friends, both aloft and below:
Well, our tackle's all ready, our hands are all staunch,
And with rapture we hail you to witness the lannch;
We've re-fitted, you see, a snug neat pleasure boat,
And we hope by your favor to keep her afloat.
Each cabin convenient (Boxes) at least so 'twas planned.
There's snug births below, (Pit) and our tops are well mann'd.
Our timbers are taut, (Stage) some messmates, though new,
Join with old ones, in claiming protection from you;
Each hand on this deck (Stage) comes with fixed inclination
To rise in the service-by your approbation.
Though in other provisions you'll find your own table,
We'll keep you in spirits as long as we're able.
We've artillery, too, care and folly to shoot,
And are arm'd as these gentlemen (Orchestra) witness, en flute.
We've great guns of tragedy, loaded so well,
If they do but go off, they must certainly tell ;
While with small shot, from farce and low comedy swivels,
We've sworn to burn, sink, or destroy the blue devils.
But aim where we will. we shall always require
From your hands a good broadside, to second our fire.
Should you ask with what freightage our vessel is stored,
What cargo-what riches—we carry on board ;
Look round, you'll see ;—all Yanks value on earth,
True freedom-good nature-wit-beauty and worth:
With such lading as this, while our voyage we measure,
Our anchor is hope, our compass-your pleasure.
(bows, and is going-returns)
Yet hold. 'ere I go, you may think it but right,
To know under what colors we sail, trade, and fight.
'Tis the Stripes with bright stars, her name would you know.
We call her the-manned by—and Co.
Of whose zeal as commander-zounds, I nearly-but mum,
His actions will speak, so I'd better be dumb ;
Hearts and hands are all loyal, our standard you view,
Which we never will strike-while protected by you.
XLI.-ADDRESS ON CLOSING A CLASS
S when on closing of a well-spent life,
The parting husband views his faithful wife,
(For life itself is but a gaudy play,
The flutt'ring phantom of a summer's day)
With pleasing terror and with trembling haste,
He recollects a thousand raptures past;
And though resign'd, and conscious that he must
Delay to mingle with his kindred dust;
So I, while round these seats my sight I bend,
And in each cordial eye behold a friend,
From the fond flowings of a grateful heart,
Cannot refrain to cry-Ah! must we part?
Your minds, where conscious worth and goodness live,
May paint the boundless thanks we wish to give,
But it's beyond the power of words to tell,
The debt we owe― the gratitude we feel.
AR hence this night be care and melancholy;
To entertain you, lo! a son of Folly;
A hearty welcome sure I need not fear,
Folly to Folly's vot'ries must be dear,
And those I'm sure to find among the actors here.
Not here alone; for search the world around
Folly in every station will be found;
All own its power and confess its sway,
The learn'd, the wise, to Folly, homage pay;
And spite of satire, spite of ridicule,
They all, or more or less, do play the fool;
Which if well played when apt occasions rise,
"Argues the being more completely wise;"
For hard it is the diff'rence to define,
Where Folly leaves, and Wisdom marks the line.
Of human life suppose we take a view,
See how mankind their various schemes pursue,
How careful each their character to blot,
And in appearance would be, what they're not,
See! how on high Self-love erects her throne,
And laughs at every folly—but her own ;
See Flatt'ry next, with all her fawning train,
In Folly's cause she never speaks in vain ;
Sh' enlivens sadness, and composes strife,
And sweetens all the cares of human life;
Ev'n Wisdom's self does not disdain her rules,
Though often call'd by her the food of fools.
In life's gay spring how foolish are we found;
Then all in folly's circle take their round,
And then with rapture 'tis we prove
The pleasing sweets of folly and of love,
Next view the scenes of matrimonial life,
Observe the mutual love and jarring strife;
Folly to both extends her friendly smile,
These still to love, and those to reconcile.
See man and man, how closely they're combined
In Friendship's bands, how strongly they are joined ;
But say for what? 'tis for some worldly ends,
For Folly made, and Folly keeps them friends;
And oft in life this maxim you may see,
"I'll flatter you, and you shall flatter me."
In Folly's path the ladies love to walk,
And oft from morn to night of folly talk :
But then, they talk with such sweet winning ways,
That Wisdom's self their follies well may praise.
That all men play the fool must be confest,
And life itself is nothing but a jest ;
They then the happiest, spite of ridicule,
Who know the least, and most do play the fool.
How happy then the joyous sporting train,
Of too much wisdom who shall them arraign?
Where Folly rules the sov'reign of each brain,
Inspired by her, they hope to give delight,
And here intend to play the fool to-night.
XLIII.-PROLOGUE IN VINDICATION OF THE STAGE.
HOULD some harsh censor blame theatric joys,
And cry, "This acting spoils our forward boys.
Should prudes exclaim, "Shame on our modern ways,
"No girls of mine shall see those wicked plays!"
Let them be taught that pastimes such as these,
Did oft amuse our grave forefather's days;
Virtue to teach was oft their pleasing task,
In mystic pageantry or moral masque;
Forbid the heart, with joys imagined, glow,
Or melt with sympathy of mimic woe.
No sire then blushed to see his son advance
In antic dress, to form the public dance;
No mother feared her daughter's tender age,
Or thought the devil haunted ev'ry stage.
But if these old examples fail to move,
Nobler and nearer shall our toils approve;
To Britain's court we boldly lift an eye,
And claim a monarch once our stage ally;
With gen'rous maxims of a Portius part,
He, formed to virtues, bore his youthful heart,
To him the actor's rules were fully known,
And the stage taught the graces of the throne.
Our less ambitious labors humbly chuse
The milder beauties of the comic muse;
Our guiltless aim, the moments to beguile,
And move as reason prompts th' approving smile :
Our modest stage no looser shows shall stain,
Nor ribald words your decent ear profane;
But forms, by Shakespeare's glowing pencil wrought; The genuine fruits of his creative thought,
Present the image of a mighty mind,
Bound by no limits, to no rules confin'd;
To-night his powerful magic claims your eyes,
And bids the visionary scenes arise.
Oh! may your breasts the pleasing influence warm,
And hide our failings by the poet's charm;
Grant us your honest, your unforced applause,
And laugh by nature's and her Shakespeare's laws.
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