While professing great zeal for the Throne,
We may leave in the lurch
Both the King and the Church,
By encouraging slily Pope Joan !"

In one hand a new dance,
In the other finance,

To throw on each subject new light,
Young Petty appear'd,

And begg'd to be heard,
In setting the game of the night.
"Cassino," he cries,

"Sure, of all games, supplies
Amusement unblemish'd with strife;
For that black, grey, or fair,
With their fellows should pair,
Must to all form the pleasures of life!"
Without farther debate,

Down to Cass then they sate;
But how strange is the game I record,
The Knaves are paid off,

Of all Court cards the scoff,
And in triumph the King clears the board!

John, rubbing his eyes,

At length, with surprise,

Discover'd the tricks of the crew,

And gaining in sense

What he first lost in pence,

From the Wolves in Sheep's clothing withdrew!

HOYLE.

TO ONE WHO CENSURED MODERN DRESS.

W

[From the Morning Chronicle, May 9.]

HAT though these garments, light as woven air,
Disclose each charm that decks the modern fair;

Why so censorious, friend? what is't to you,

If Paradise is open'd to our view?

Like Mother Eve, our maids may stray unblam'd,
For they are naked, and are not asham'd.

A PUN,

ON READING IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE, MAY 12TH, 1812, THE MARRIAGE OF EDWArd reynoLDS, ESQ. TO MISS SARAH HUSBAND.

[From the same, May 13.]

THE strangest metamorphosis in life!

That thus a Husband should become a wife ;—
And be contented with a silent vote,
Changing the breeches for the petticoat.

Perchance the Bridegroom, while he holds the charms
Of this his female Husband in his arms,

Dreads a new change, and piously beseeches,

That she may never reassume the breeches!

E. F.

IN

ΤΟ

[From the same, May 23.]

N the dirge we sung o'er thee, no censure was heard; Unembitter'd and free did the tear-drop descend; We forgot, in that hour, how the Statesman had err'd, And wept for the Father, the Husband, and Friend! O! proud was the meed thy integrity won,

And gen'rous indeed were the tears that we shed, When in grief we forgot all the ill thou hadst done, And, though wrong'd by thee living, bewail'd thee when dead!

Even now, if a selfish emotion intrude,

"T is to wish thou hadst chosen some lowlier stateHadst known what thou wert-and, content to be good, Hadst ne'er, for our ruin, aspir'd to be great.

So, blest through their own little orbit to move,
Thy years might have roll'd inoffensive away;

Thy children might still have been blest with thy love, And England would ne'er have been curs'd with thy sway!

EPIGRAMMATIC

1

EPIGRAMMATIC PUNS.

[From the same.]

PRINCEPS his rent from tinneries draws,

His best friends are refiners ;

What wonder then his other friends

He leaves for under-miners?

YE Politicians, tell me, pray,

Why thus with woe and care rent?
This is the worst which we can say,
Some wind has blown the Wig away,
And left the Hair Apparent.

WHA' WANTS ME!

[From the same, May 26.]

IN consequence of the loss of the little white leader of the State Diligence, the Proprietors are under the painful necessity of dropping the concern; as, in spite of their most adroit and well-meaning efforts to supply the loss, they have found no horse that will run in their team, except that noted job Old Nick, who has not wind for the work.

The horses which ran in this machine (including some of the best Flushing breed, with a strong cross of bigot blood) are to be disposed of, warranted true to the collar, and equal to any work. The Proprietors humbly recommend them to all Gentlemen engaged in the Black way.

Apply at the State-stable, Downing Street, where the animals are allowed to remain till the new concern opens.

A

THE PHANTASMAGORIA.

[From the British Press, May 26.] NEWLY-INVENTED Phantasmagoria is now open for exhibition, which rivals in attraction all the other places of public amusement. The works, which are allowed by the connoisseurs to be chefsd'œuvre, are improvements upon the pictures in water-colours, being mostly done in milk and water. No. I.-The New Leader.-By Viscount C-stle-gh, R. A. S. S.

"E'en Kings themselves have follow'd her—
When she has gone before."-GOLDSMITH.

This is a tolerably correct drawing of a Royal Mail Coach. The new Leader is a sorry jade, something like Don Quixote's Rozinante, but without the spirit of that steed, and perhaps resembling more an Irish hack. He appears to have fallen down at the Inndoor just as the coachman was preparing to drive off. The disappointment in the countenance of the coachman is well expressed; it is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

No. II.-Master Nicholas's Dream; or, the Triumphs of abstract Currency.-A man in the robes of Chancellor of the Exchequer, weighing paper against gold. By Mynheer Van Leintort.-Under written

-

"He was weigh'd in the balance, and found wanting."

This is a very feeble performance. There is nothing of taste or fancy in the design; and the colouring of the Portrait is harsh, cold, and dry.

No. III.-A Portrait of a broken Rag Merchant.— By the same Artist.

It is in the true style, but without any thing of the humour and richness, of the Dutch School.

No. IV.-Jonas in the Whale's Belly.-By Mon

sieur March au Paris, an eminent Artist at Liverpool.

The title of this picture is a flagrant misnomer. Jonas, the main figure, is quite out of his element. Instead of plunging about in the whale's belly, he looks as if he had been just disgorged, after having passed three days and nights there, and the wretched animal had been troubled the whole time with the colic.

THE WHIP CLUB.

"With graceful case he smack'd the thong."-WHITEHEAD. [From the Public Ledger, June 1.]

WHAT can Men of Fashion do?

Why, drive a Curricle and Two.
Can Men of Fashion do no more?
Yes; drive a smart Barouche and Four.
Do Men of Fashion end with this?
May they not drive too fast?-O, yes!

THE MARGRAVINE OF ANSPACH.

[Original.]

THE following Lines were written Impromptu, by LUMLEY ST. GEORGE SKEFFINGTON, Esq. one evening in Angast 1810, at Brandenburgh House, on seeing the Margravine of Anspach engaged in Needle-work.

IN

N humble work permit the humbler train
That praise to reap which multitudes obtain.
But why shouldst thou unprofitably claim
Imperfect honour from inferior fame?
Wit shines in thee amidst a blaze of grace,
And beauty revels in a matchless face!

We hate the work which draws such eyes away,
For eyes like those give spirit to the gay.
Wisely desist; improve the rapid time
With wit in prose, and elegance in rhyme ;