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When lo! the Papers, one and all,
A playful young bear, and then mock his disaster As if at some magician's call,
By bidding him chuse out his own dancing-master. Began to flutter of themselves From desk and table, floor and shelves, I thought the best way, as a dutiful son, And, cutting each some different capers, Was to do as old Royalty's self would have done. Advanced-oh jacobinic papers !
So I sent word to say I would keep the whole batch in, As though they said, “ Our sole design is The same chest of tools, without cleansing or patchTo suffocate his Royal Highness !"
ingThe leader of this vile sedition
For tools of this kind, like Martinus's sconce,' Was a huge Catholic Petition :
Would lose all their beauty if purified once; With grievances so full and heavy,
And think-only think-if our Father should find, It threaten'd worst of all the bevy.
Upon graciously coming again to his mind, Then Common-Hall Addresses came
That improvement had spoil'd any favourite adviserIn swaggering sheets, and took their aim That R-SE was grown honest, or W-STM-REL-ND Right at the R-G-Nt's well-dress'd head,
wiser Af if determined to be read!
That R-D-R was, even by one twinkle, the brighter Next Tradesmen's Bills began to fly
Or L-V-R-P-L's speeches but half a pound lighterAnd tradesmen's bills, we know, mount high; What a shock to his old royal heart it would be ! Nay, even Death-warrants thought they'd best No!-far were such dreams of improvement from me; Be lively too and join the rest.
And it pleased me to find at the house where, you
know, But oh !-the basest of defections !
There's such good mutton-cutlets and strong curacoa, His letter about “predilections”
That the Marchioness called me a duteous old boy, His own dear letter, void of grace,
And my Y-RM-TH's red whiskers grew redder for joy! Now flew up in its parent's face! Shock'd with this breach of filial duty,
You know, my dear FREDDY, how oft, if I would, He just could murmur, “ Et tu Brule !" By the law of last Sessions, I might have done good. Then sunk, subdued, upon the floor,
I might have withheld these political noodles At Fox's bust, to rise no more!
From knocking their heads against hot Yankee
Doodles; I waked-and pray'd, with lifted hand,
I might have told Ireland I pitied her lot, “Oh! never may this dream prove true;
Might have soothed her with hope—but you know I Though paper overwhelms the land,
did not. Let it not crush the Sovereign too!"
And my wish is, in truth, that the best of old fellows
Should not, on recovering, have cause to be jealous,
But find that, while he has been laid on the shelf, PARODY OF A CELEBRATED LETTER.
We've been all of us nearly as mad as himself.
You smile at my hopes, but the doctors and I At length, dearest FREDDY, the moment is nigh, Are the last that can think the K-NG ever will die ! When, with P-RC-V-L's leave, I may throw my chains
A new era 's arrived—though you'd hardly believe itAnd, as time now is precious, the first thing I do And all things, of course, must be new to receive it. Is to sit down and write a wise letter to you. New villas, new fêtes (which even WAITHMAN at
tends) New saddles, new helmets, and—why not new
I repeat it “new friends"-for I cannot describe I meant before now to have sent you this letter, The delight I am in with this P-RC-V-L tribe. But Y-RM—TH and I thought perhaps 't would be Such capering—such vapouring !—such rigour-such better
vigour! To wait till the Irish affairs were decided
North, South, East, and West, they have cut such a That is, till both houses had prosed and divided,
figure, With all due appearance of thought and digestion. That soon they will bring the whole world round our For though H-RTF-RD House had long settled the
And leave us no friends—but Old Nick and Algiers. I thought it but decent, between me and you, When I think of the glory they've beam'd on my That the two other houses should settle it too.
'Tis enough quite to turn my illustrious brains; I need not remind you how cursedly bad
It 's true we are bankrupts in commerce and riches, Our affairs were all looking when Father went mad; But think how we furnish our Allies with breeches ! A strait-waistcoat on him, and restrictions on me, A more limited monarchy could not well be. I was call'd upon then, in that moment of puzzle,
1 The antique shield of Martinus Scriblerus, which, upon
scouring, turn'd out to be only an old sconce. To chuse my own minister-just as they muzzle 2 The letter-writer's favourite luncheon
We've lost the warm hearts of the Irish, 't is granted, P. S.-A copy of this is to P-RC-V-L going
ANACREONTIC. For papists the one, and with papists the other ;
TO A PLUMASSIER. One crushing NAPOLEON by taking a city,
FINE and feathery artisan ! While t' other lays waste a whole Catholic Commit
Best of Plumists, if you can tee!
With your art so far presume, Oh, deeds of renown! shall I baggle or flinch,
Make for me a PE's plume With such prospects before me?-by Jove not an
Feathers soft and feathers rare, inch. No-let England's affairs go to rack if they will,
Such as suits a P/E to wear! We'll look after the affairs of the Continent still,
First, thou downiest of men ! And, with nothing at home but starvation and riot, Seek me out a fine pea-hen; Find Lisbon in bread, and keep Sicily quiet.
Such a hen, so tall and grand, I am proud to declare I have no predilections,
As by Juno's side might stand, My heart is a sieve, where some scatter'd affections
If there were no cocks at hand! Are just danced about for a moment or two,
Seek her feathers, soft as down,
Ask the way of Prior's Cupid.
Ranging these in order due,
Pluck me next an old cuckoo ; This is all I can lay to my conscience at present.
Emblem of the happy fates When such is my temper, so neutral, so pleasant,
Of easy, kind, cornuted mates! So royally free from all troublesome feelings,
Pluck him well—be sure you doSo little encumber'd by faith in my dealings
Who would n't be an old cuckoo, (And, that I'm consistent, the world will allow,
Thus to have his plumage bless'd. What I was at Newmarket, the same I am now)
Beaming on a r-y-l crest? When such are my merits (you know I hate crack
Bravo, Plumist !—now what bird ing)
Shall we find for plume the third ? I hope, like the vender of best Patent Blacking,
You must get a learned owl, “ To meet with the generous and kind approbation
Blackest of black-letter fowlOf a candid, enlighten'd and liberal nation.”
Bigot bird that hates the light, By the by, ere I close this magnificent letter
Foe to all that's fair and bright! No man except Pole could have writ you a better,)
Seize his quills (so form'd to pen
Books that shun the search of men,"T would please me if those, whom I've humbugg'd
Books that far from every eye, so long With the notion (good men !) that I knew right from
In "swelter'd venom sleeping” lie!) wrong,
Stick them in, between the two, Would a few of them join me-mind, only a few
Proud pea-hen and old cuckoo ! To let too much light in on me never would do;
Now you have the triple feather, But even Grey's brightness shan't make me afraid,
Bind the kindred stems together While I've C-MD-N and Eld-n to fly to for shade; With a silken tie whose hue Nor will HOLLAND's clear intellect do us much harm,
Once was brilliant buff and blue ; While there's W-STM-REL-ND near him to weaken
Sullied now—alas ! how much !the charm.
Only fit for Y-RM-TH's touch. As for Morra's high spirit, if aught can subdue it,
There-enough-thy task is done ; Sure joining with H-RTF-RD and Y-RM—TH will do it!
Present worthy G-GE's son ! Between R-D-R and WH-RT-N let SHERIDAN sit,
Now, beneath, in letters neat,
Write“ I SERVE," and all's complete.
FROM THE DIARY OF A POLITICIAN.
Wednesday Who, I doubt not, will write (as there's no time to Through M-NCH-ST-R Square took a canter just
lose) By the two-penny post, to tell GRENVILLE the news; Met the old yellow chariot, and made a low bow. And now, dearest FRED (though I've no predilection) This I did, of course, thinking 't was loyal and civil, Believe me yours always with truest affection. But got such a look-oh, 't was black as the devil
How unlucky !--incog. he was travelling about, Then trampling the gross Idols under their feet, And I, like a noodle, must go find him out!
They sent Crack a petition, beginning, “Great
That you 'll find us some decenter Godhead than
Thursday. At Levee to-day made another sad blunder- “I'll try,” says King Crack—then they furnish'd What can be come over me lately, I wonder ?
him models The PE was as cheerful as if, all his life
Of better shaped Gods, but he sent them all back; He had never been troubled with Friends or a Wife- Some were chisell'd too fine, some had heads 'stead "Fine weather," says he-to which I, who must prate, of noddles, Answer'd, “Yes, Sir, but changeable rather, of late." In short, they were all much too godlike for CRACK! He took it, I fear, for he look'd rather gruff, And handled his new pair of whiskers so rough,
So he took to his darling old Idols again, That before all the courtiers I fear'd they'd come off, And, just mending their legs and new bronzing And then, Lord! how GERAmb would triumphantly
their faces, scoff!
open defiance of gods and of men,
Set the monsters up grinning once more in their Mem. To buy for son Dicky some unguent or lotion
places ! To nourish his whiskers—sure road to promotion!'
Saturday. Last night a concert-vastly gay
WREATHS FOR THE MINISTERS. Given by Lady C-sti-R-GH.
AN ANACREONTIC. My Lord loves music, and, we know,
Hither, Flora, Queen of Flowers ! Has two strings always to his bow.
Haste thee from old Brompton's bowersIn chusing songs, the R-G-nt named
Or (if sweeter that abode, “ Had I a heart for falsehood framed."
From the King's well-odour'd Road, While gentle H-RTF-RD begg'd and pray'd
Where each little nursery bud
Breathes the dust and quaffs the mud !
Into wreaths for those who rule us-
Those who rule and (some say) fool us :
Flora, sure, will love to please
England's HOUSEHOLD DEITIES!"
First you must then, willy-nilly, (At least so his courtiers would swear to you Fetch me many an orange lilygladly,)
Orange of the darkest dye But CRACK now and then would do het'rodox things,
Irish G-FF-RD can supply ! And, at last, took to worshipping Images sadly.
Choose me out the longest sprig,
And stick it in old Elu-N's wig! Some broken-down Idols, that long had been placed
In his Father's old Cabinet, pleased him so much Find me next a poppy-posy, That he knelt down and worshipp'd, though-such Type of his harangues so dozy, was his taste!
Garland gaudy, dull and cool, They were monstrous to look at and rotten to For the head of L-V-RP-L touch!
"T will console his brilliant brows
For that loss of laurel boughs And these were the beautiful Gods of King Crack!
Which they suffer'd (what a pity!) Till his people, disdaining to worship such things,
On the road to Paris City. Cried aloud, one and all, “Come, your Godships must pack
Next, our C-stL-R-GH tố crown, You will not do for us, though you may do for Bring me, from the County Down, Kings."
Wither'd shamrocks, which have been
Gilded o'er to hide the Green1 England is not the only country where merit of this kind (Such as H-DF--brought away is noticed and rewarded." I remember," says Tavernier, From Pall-Mall last Patrick's Day.*) " to have seen one of the King of Persia's porters, whose mustachios were so long that he could tie them behind his neck, for which reason he had a double pension."
1 The ancients, in like manner, crowned their lares, or 2 One of those antediluvian princes with whom Manetho household gods.--See Juvenal, sat. 9. v. 138. Plutarch too and Whiston seem so intimately acquainted. If we had tells us that household gods were then, as they are now, the Memoirs of Thoth, from which Manetho compiled his much given to war and penal statutes.” sprovuadris kai history, we should find, I dare say, that Crack was only a uvimous &zoov 26. Regent, and that he, perhaps, succeeded Typhon, who (as 2 Certain tinsel imitations of the Shamrock, which are Whiston saya) was the last ling of the aniediluvian dy-distributed lay the servants of C--- House every Patrick's nasty.
“An excellent thought!--call the tailors—be nimble Let Cum bring his spy-glass, and H-RTF-rd her
thimble; While Y-RM-Th shall give us, in spite of all quizzers, The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissors."
Stitch the garland through and through
So saying, he calls C-stL-R—G#, and the rest
Of his heaven-born statesmen, to come and be dress'd.
up, all at once, a large Catholic Petition In long tailors' measures (the P- E crying, “Well
done!") And first puts in hand my Lord Chancellor Elb-n.
OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, THE NEW COSTUME OF THE MINISTERS. For the Opening of the New Theatre of St. Sl-ph-my
intended to have been spoken by the Proprietor, in Nova monstra creavit.-Ovid. Met. lib. i. ver. 437.
full Costume, on the 24th of November. Having sent off the troops of brave Major CAMAC,
Trus day a New House, for your edification, With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous back,
We open, most thinking and right-headed nation ! And such helmets—God bless us !-as never deck'd Excuse the materials—though rotten and bad,
They 're the best that for money just now could be any Male creature before, except Signor GIOVANNI-" Let's see," said the R-G-nt (like Titus, perplex'a And, if echo the charm of such houses should be, With the duties of empire,) " whom shall I dress You will find it shall echo my speech to a T. next ?"
As for actors, we've got the old company yet, He looks in the glass—but perfection is there,
The same motley, odd, tragi-comical set : Wig, whiskers, and chin-tufts, all right to a hair;'
And, considering they all were but clerks t'other day, Not a single er-curl on his forehead he traces
It is truly surprising how well they can play.
Our manager (he who in Ulster was nursed,
And sung Erin go Bragh for the galleries first, His coat he next views—but the coat who could But, on finding Pitt-interest a much better thing, doubt ?
Changed his note, of a sudden, to " God save the For his Y-RM-TH's own Frenchified hand cut it out;
King!” Every pucker and seam were made matters of state, Still wise as he 's blooming, and fat as he 's clever, And a grand Household Council was held on each Himself and his speeches as lengthy as ever, plait !
Here offers you still the full use of his breath,
Your devoted and long-winded proser till death! Then whom shall he dress ? Shall he new rig his brother,
You remember, last season, when things went perGreat C-MB-RL-ND's Duke, with some kickshaw or other?
We had to engage (as a block to rehearse on) And kindly invent him more Christian-like shapes One Mr. V-Ns-tt-rt, a good sort of person, For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes ?
Who's also employ'd for this season to play Ah! no-here his ardour would meet with delays, In “Raising the Wind," and "the Devil to Pay." For the Duke had been lately pack'd up in new Stays, We expect too—at least we've been plotting and So complete for the winter, he saw very plain
planning'T would be devilish hard work to unpack him again! To get that great actor from Liverpool, C-NN-NG;
And, as at the circus there's nothing attracts So what 's to be done ?-there's the MINISTERS, Like a good single combat brought in 'twixt the acts, bless 'em
If the Manager should, with the help of Sir P-PH-M, As he made the puppets, why should n't he dress 'em? Get up new diversions, and C-NN-NG should stop 'em,
Who knows but we'll have to announce in the pa1 That model of princes, the Emperor Commodus, was
pers, particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of nis hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to
“Grand fight-second time-with additional capers." trust himself with a barber, and he nised, accordingly, to Be your taste for the ludicrous, humdrum, or sad, burn off his beard. “Timore topsoris," says Lampridius. There is plenty of each in this house to be had; (Hist. August. Scriptor.) The dissoluto Alius Verus, too, was equally attentive to the decoration of his wig. - (See Where our Manager ruleth, there weeping will be, Jul. Capitólin.) Indeed, this was not the only princely For a dead hand al tragedy always was he; trait in the character of Verus, us ho had likewise a most And there never was dealer in dagger and cup, hearty and dignified contempt for his wife.--See his insula ing answer to her in Spartianus.
Who so smilingly got all his tragedies up.
His powers poor Ireland will never forget, Come, what shall we say for it ?-briskly! bid on, And the widows of Walcheren weep o'er them yet. We'll the sooner get rid of it-going-quite gone!
God be with it! Such Tools, if not quickly knock'd So much for the actors. For secret machinery,
down, Traps, and deceptions, and shifting of scenery, Might at last cost their owner-how much? why, a Y-RM—TH and Cum are the best we can find
Crown! To transact all that trickery business behind. The former 's employ'd too to teach us French jigs, The next Tool I'll set up has hardly had handsel or Keep the whiskers in curl, and look after the wigs.
Trial as yet, and is also a Chancellor
Such dull things as these should be sold by the gross ; In taking my leave, now I've only to say
Yet, dull as it is, 't will be found to shave close, A few Seats in the House, not as yet sold away, And, like other close shavers, some courage to gather May be had of the Manager, Pat C-sti-R-GH. This blade first began by a flourish on leather!
You shall have it for nothing-then, marvel with me
At the terrible tinkering work there must be,
Where a Tool, such as this is (I'll leave you to judge it)
Is placed by ill luck at the top of the Budget!
LITTLE MAN AND LITTLE SOUL.
A Ballad to the Tune of “There was a little Man, and They 'll fit you quite handy, whatever your trade is he wooed a little Maid,” dedicated to the Right Hon. (Except it be Cabinet-making—I doubt
Ch-rl-s Abb-t. In that delicate service they are rather worn out;
Arcades ambu Though their owner-bright youth!--if he'd had his
Et cant-are pares. own will, Would have bungled away with them joyously still.)
1813. You can see they've been pretty well hack'd-and, THERE was a little Man, and he had a little Soul, alack!
And he said, “ Little Soul, let us try, try, try, What tool is there job after job will not hack ?
Whether it's within our reach Their edge is but dullish, it must be confess'd,
To make up a little speech, And their temper, like Ell-NB'R-Gh's, none of the Just between little you and little I, I, I, best;
Just between little you and little I!" But you'll find them good hard-working Tools, upon trying
Then said his little Soul, Were it but for their brass, they are well worth the Peeping from her little hole, buying ;
" I protest, little Man, you are stout, stout, stout, They are famous for making blinds, sliders, and
But, if 't is not uncivil,
Pray tell me, what the devil screens, And they 're, some of them, excellent turning ma- Must our little, little speech be about, bout, bout, chines!
Must our little, little speech be about The first Tool I'll put up (they call it a Chancellor)
The little Man look'd big, Heavy concern to both purchaser and seller,
With the assistance of his wig, Though made of pig-iron, yet (worthy of note 't is)
And be call'd his little Soul to order, order, order, "T is ready to melt at a half-minute's notice.
Till she fear'd he'd make her jog in Who bids ? Gentle buyer! 't will turn
To jail, like Thomas Croggan, shapest
(As she was n't duke or earl) to reward her, ward her, 'T will make a good thum-screw to torture a Papist ;
ward her, Or else a cramp-iron, to stick in the wall
As she was n't duke or earl, to reward her. Of some church that old women are fearful will fall;
The little Man then spoke, Or better, perhaps (for I'm guessing at random,)
“ Little Soul, it is no joke, A heavy drag chuin for some Lawyer's old Tandem! For, as sure as J-cky F-ll-r loves a sup, sup, sup Will nobody bid ? It is cheap, I am sure, Sir- I will tell the Prince and People Once, twice-going, going-thrice--gone !—It is What I think of Church and Steeple,
And my little patent plan to prop them up, up, up, To pay ready money you sha'n't be distress'd,
And my little patent plan to prop them up." As a bill at long date suits the CHANCELLOR best.
Away then, cheek by jowl, Come, where's the next Tool ?-Oh! 't is here in a Little Man and Little Soul trice
Went, and spoke their little speech to a tittle, tittle, This implement, Gemmen! at first was a Vice
tittle, (A tenacious and close sort of Tool, that will let
And the world all declare Nothing out of its grasp it once happens to get)-- That this priggish liule pair But it since has received a new coating of Tin, Never yet in all their lives look'd so little, little, lituje, Bright enough for a Prince to behold himself in! Never yet in all their lives look'd so little