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Oh Mareschino! Mareschino oh!

Delicious drams! why have you not the art

To kill this gnawing Book-worm in my heart?

He is here interrupted in his Soliloquy by perceiving on the ground some scribbled fragments of paper, which he instantly collects, and "by the light of two magnificent candelabras" discovers the following unconnected words, Wife neglected" "the Book" "Wrong Measures"-"the Queen"-"Mr. Lambert"-"the Regent."

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Ha! treason in my house!-Curst words, that wither
My princely soul, (shaking the papers violently)
what Demon brought you hither?

"My Wife ;"" the Book" too!-stay-a nearer look-
(holding the fragments closer to the Candelabras)
Alas! too plain, B, double O, K, Book—

Death and destruction!

He here rings all the bells, and a whole legion of valets enter. A scene of cursing and swearing (very much in the German style) ensues, in the course of which messengers are despatched in different directions, for the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Cumberland, &c. &c. The intermediate time is filled up by another Soliloquy, at the conclusion of which the aforesaid Personages rush or alarmed; the Duke with his stays only half-laced, and the Chancellor with his wig thrown hastily over an old red night-cap, "to maintain the becoming splendour of his office." The Regent produces the appalling fragments, upon which the Chancellor breaks out into exclamations of loyalty and tenderness, and relates the following portentous dream:

'Tis scarcely two hours since

I had a fearful dream of thee, my Prince!—
Methought I heard thee, midst a courtly crowd,
Say from thy throne of gold, in mandate loud,

Worship my whiskers!"-(weeps) not a knee was there
But bent and worshipped the Illustrious Pair,

Which curled in conscious majesty! (pulls out his handkerchief)-while cries

Of "Whiskers, whiskers!" shook the echoing skies.

Just in that glorious hour, methought, there came,

With looks of injured pride, a Princely Dame,

And a young maiden, clinging by her side,

As if she feared some tyrant would divide

Two hearts that nature and affection tied!

The Matron came-within her right hand glowed

A radiant torch; while from her left a load

Of Papers hung-(wipes his eyes) collected in her veil.

The venal evidence, the slanderous tale,

The wounding hint, the current lies that pass

From Post to Courier, formed the motley mass;

(Weeps.

Which, with disdain, before the Throne she throws,
And lights the Pile beneath thy princely nose.
Heavens, how it blazed!—I'd ask no livelier fire
(With animation) To roast a Papist by, my gracious Sire!
But, ah! the Evidence-(weeps again) I mourned to see-
Cast, as it burned, a deadly light on thee:

And Tales and Hints their random sparkle flung,
And hissed and crackled, like an old maid's tongue;
While Post and Courier, faithful to their fame,
Made up in stink for what they lacked in flame.
When, lo, ye Gods! the fire ascending brisker,
Now singes one, now lights the other whisker.
Ah! where was then the Sylphid, that unfurls
Her fairy standard in defence of curls?
Throne, Whiskers, Wig, soon vanished into smoke,
The watchman cried "Past One," and-I awoke.

Here his Lordship weeps more profusely than ever, and the Regent (who has been very much agitated during the recital of the Dream) by a movement as characteristic as that of Charles XII. when he was shot, claps his hands to his whiskers to feel if all be really safe. A Privy Council is held-all the Servants, &c. are examined, and it appears that a Tailor, who had come to measure the Regent for a Dress (which takes three whole pages of the best superfine clinquant in describing) was the only person who had been in the Bourbon Chamber during the day. It is, accordingly, determined to seize the Tailor, and the Council breaks up with a unanimous resolution to be vigorous.

The commencement of the Second Act turns chiefly upon the Trial and Imprisonment of two Brothers*-but as this forms the under plot of the Drama, I shall content myself with extracting from it the following speech, which is addressed to the two Brothers, as they exeunt severally" to Prison :

66

Go to your prisons-though the air of Spring

No mountain coolness to your cheeks shall bring;
Though Summer flowers shall pass unseen away,
And all your portion of the glorious day

May be some solitary beam that falls,

At morn or eve, upon your dreary walls-
Some beam that enters, trembling as if awed,

To tell how gay the young world laughs abroad!

Yet go for thoughts as blessed as the air

Of Spring or Summer flowers await you there;
Thoughts such as He, who feasts his courtly crow
In rich conservatories, never knew;

Pure self-esteem-the smiles that light within
The Zeal whose circling charities begin

With the few loved ones Heaven has placed it near

Mr. Leigh Hunt and his brother.

And spread, till all Mankind are in its sphere;
The Pride that suffers without vaunt or plea,
And the fresh Spirit that can warble free,

Through prison-bars, its hymn to Liberty!

The Scene next changes to a Tailor's Work-shop, and a fancifully-arranged group of these Artists is discovered upon the Shopboard-Their task evidently of a royal nature, from the profusion of gold-lace, frogs, &c. that lie about-They all rise and come forward, while one of them sings the following Stanzas to the tune of "Derry Down."

My brave brother Tailors, come, straighten your knees,
For a moment, like gentlemen, stand up at ease,
While I sing of our Prince (and a fig for his railers)
The Shop-board's delight! the Mecenas of Tailors!
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Some monarchs take roundabout ways into note,
While is short cut to fame is the cut of his coat;
Philip's Son thought the World was too small for his
Soul,

But our Regent's finds room in a laced button-hole.

Derry down, &c.

Look through all Europe's Kings—those, at least, who go

loose

Not a King of them all such a friend to the Goose,
So, God keep him increasing in size and renown,
Still the fattest and best fitted Prince about town!
Derry down, &c.

During the "Derry down" of this last verse, a messenger from the Secretary of State's Office rushes on, and the singer (who, luckily for the effect of the scene, is the very Tailor suspected of the mysterious fragments) is interrupted in the midst of his laudatory exertions, and hurried away, to the no small surprise and consternation of his comrades. The Plot now hastens rapidly in its development-the management of the Tailor's examination is highly skilful, and the alarm which he is made to betray is natural without being ludicrous, The explanation, too, which he finally gives is not more simple than satisfactory. It appears that the said fragments formed part of a self-exculpatory note, which he had intended to send to Colonel M'M- -n upon subjects purely professional, and the corresponding bits (which still lie luckily in his pocket) being produced, and skilfully laid beside the others, the following billet-doux is the satisfactory result of their juxtaposition.

Honoured Colonel-my Wife, who's the Queen of all slat

terns,

Neglected to put up the Book of new Patterns.

She sent the wrong Measures too-shamefully wrong-
They're the same used for poor Mr. Lambert, when young;
But, bless you! they wouldn't go half round the Regent-
So, hope you'll excuse yours till death, most obedient.

This fully explains the whole mystery-the Regent resumes his wonted smiles, and the Drama terminates as usual, to the satisfaction of all parties.

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THE practice which has been lately introduced into literature, of writing very long notes upon very indifferent verses appears to me rather a happy invention; as it supplies us with a mode of turning dull poetry to account; and as horses too heavy for the saddle may yet serve well enough to draw lumber, so poems of this kind make excellent beasts of burden, and will bear notes, though they may not bear reading. Besides, the comments in such cases are so little under the necessity of paying any servile deference to the text, that hey may even adopt that Socratic dogma, “Quod supra nos nihil ad nos.

In the first of the two following Poems, I have ventured to speak of the Revolution of 1688 in language which has sometimes been employed by Tory writers, and which is therefore neither very new nor popular. But however an Englishman might be reproached with ingratitude, for depreciating the merits and results of a measure which he is taught to regard as the source of his liberties-however ungrateful it might appear in Alderman B-rch to question for a moment the purity of that glorious era, to which he is indebted for the seasoning of so many orations-yet an Irishman, who has none of these obligations to acknowledge; to whose country the Revolution brought nothing but injury and insult, and who recollects that the book of Molyneux was burned, by order of William's Whig Parliament, for daring to extend to unfortunate Ireland those principles on which the Revolution was professedly founded-an Irishman may be allowed to criticise freely the measures of that period, without exposing himself either to the imputation of ingratitude, or to the suspicion of being influenced by any Popish remains of Jacobitism. No nation, it is true, was ever blessed with a more golden opportunity of establishing and securing its liberties

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