A speech with all these beauties cannot fail to have its effect, especially if you conclude with asserting that ministerial influence has now done its worst; they can poll no more; and now is the time for your five thousand " men in buckram" to come forward, and strike them dumb, dead, and d-d at once.

Seventh and last day.-As bad as ever-and the poll declared. Now comes your triumph, and you may assert, that, although you have not succeeded-you never thought you should-you never said you should -you had at best but very faint hopes-you would not have come forward if a majority of the electors had not invited you; you wished for nothing but to give them peace and plenty-it was their business, not yours; and as a reward for the kindness of those who have voted for you, give them a long address, proving that the places and incomes of three or four noblemen, mentioned by name, if divided among your friends, would amount to 3s. 6d. per man, if they had only the virtue to do themselves justice, as has been done in a neighbouring nation, namely, either by making them fly the country, or, which is safer, by knocking them on the head. And having laid down this consoling doctrine, request them to go home in a peaceable and orderly manner!

I am, Sir, yours,

MAZARINE.

ON DOCTOR BUSBY'S CALLING HIS ADDRESS 66 A MONOLOGUE."

THE

[From the Morning Chronicle, Oct. 26.]

HE name Busby gave to his hodge-podge of rhyme
Plainly proves, though a doctor, he's alsó a dunce:-

In a Monologue, one person speaks at a time,

At the spouting of his, hundreds held forth at once. Suffolk, Oct. 17.

J. P.

AN

A

AN ELECTION BLUNDER,

AT DOWNPATRICK.

[From the same, Oct. 28.]

CANDIDATE in full career

Of promises, and bows, and beer,
Palming each greasy raggamuffin,
His public and his private merits puffing,
And not omitting subterfuge or a trick,
To hum the electors of Downpatrick;
Was of finesse displaying all his riches,

When up comes, smirking, Mr. Stitch,
(Who once had cover'd C- -r's breech,)
With, "Servant kindly, Sir, I made your breeches."
Quick to his bosom C-

7

flew,

(Forgetting quite, though an old stager,

Poor Stitch)-Dear Major Bridges, how d'ye do?

It's quite an age since I have seen you, Major!
I'm very glad to see you, 'pon my soul!

I know how strong you are upon the poll!
You'll come at five, and ply a knife and fork,
And drink the Army-and the Duke of York-
(I help'd him when the curs began to bark
About the brimstone-Mary Clarke.)
navy more
My services to them are not forgotten;
You know that I promoted three or four,
Years after they were dead and rotten!

I love the army! but the

Old Stitch, amaz'd at these mysterious speeches,

Still bowing, cried-" Good Sir, I made your breeches,
Five years ago, when you were 'lectioneering.'

The folk laugh'd out-and so, to stop their jeering,
C-r, instead of Major Bridges' vote,

Slipp'd into Stitch's hand a thirty shillings Bank of Ireland

note!

T.

PROPOSALS FOR A NEW THEATRE.

[From the General Evening Post, Oct. 28.]

MR, EDITOR,

I HAVE a plan for erecting a new national Theatre, which I think has become absolutely necessary from the increased and increasing size of the town; and the following is the mode on which I propose to

raise and conduct it:

First, I intend to have a committee of eleven honourable and independent gentlemen, who know nothing of the stage, and therefore can have no improper partialities.

Second, I propose to conduct the whole according to act of Parliament; and that none shall be admitted who cannot write their name; by which I shall be sure of having an enlightened and literary audience.

Third, All persons, on their admittance, shall have their deeds examined (for which six attornies shall always be kept in waiting), that they may enter the house legally; and as this matter will take up some time at each door, the company are requested to attend at four o'clock in the afternoon, that the examination of deeds may be finished before the play begins. DRAMATICUS.

IMPROMPTU

BY A PERFORMER AT NEW DRURY, WHOSE ALLOWANCE OF HALF A CANDLE WAS BURNED OUT BEFORE HE HAD FINISHED DRESSING.

[From the same, Oct. 29.]

ONCE Fiat lux resounded here,
(A thought I deeply sigh at ;)
Which now our Managers severe
Have chang'd to "Umbra fiat."

N.

A PARODY.

A PARODY.

[From the Morning Post, Oct. 29.]

MR. EDITOR,

AFTER the meritorious exertions of Doctor Busby to rescue his rejected Address from oblivion, I really feel it a duty to publish one which the great contriver of the Theatre himself, it is said, intended to have spoken on the opening night; but which he was prevented from doing by his consummate diffidence. As the case is, though not a new one, at least a hard one, I enclose it to you as I received it, and am,

Sir, your humble Servant,

COCLICUS INDICUS.

ADDRESS (A PARODY),

To be spoken by the Author, dressed in the Garb of a Brewer's Porter, armed with a Spigot, &c.

"The Drama's Laws, the Drayman gives.”

My name is Wd. Upon Hertford's Hills
My father kept his house; a brewer rich,
Whose constant cares were to increase his wealth,
And keep his only son, myself, at school;
For I had heard of speeches, and I long'd
To follow in the House some noisy chief,
And Bedford granted what my sire denied.

This House which opes to-night, large as my brewhouse,
Had not yet rais'd its head, when on its site
A band of Irish bricklayers, from the street,
Rush'd like mad dogs upon the ruin'd walls,
Wheeling the bricks and stones; the Renters filed
For Sheridan and Peake; whilst I alone,

With bended quill and book full of subscribers,
Hover'd about the ruins, and well mark'd

The road they went *;-then hasted to some friend,
Whom with a list of fifty wealthy men

I met advancing. Then the chair I took,

*This alludes to sundry barrows-full of materials, which, in the early part of last year, were observed to make progress out of the ruins every day.

And

They'd hunt together, and be found
The best in all the country round;

But they (for dogs can speak) said "What
Join with the others-that we'll not-
What is 't to us that they are good?
They must be fed-must share our food.
We'll teach our Master not to flout us:
Odds, hounds-he cannot do without us."
Now on the first subscription day
They had the vanity to stay

Close by the kennel-door-but >!

What griefs are dogs still doom'd to know !—

The old Squire's pack appear'd in view,
With collars gilt and ribands blue;
They gaily chas'd the flying game,

And well maintain'd a well-earn'd fame.-
Now did malicious envy seize the race,
To find another pack were in their place,
And when the Squire next went his rounds,
The leader of his fav'rite hounds
Flew at his throat, and all the pack,
Some at his face, some on his back,
So rag'd, so tore, made such a rout,
That he was forc'd to turn them out,
And said, as they were skulking off,
"Ye foolish pack, ye vainly scoff,
Ye might have shar'd the kennel's fare;
For all or nothing ye declare :
You 've nothing got-ye vainly grin,
You never more can here come in ;
Ye need not linger, need not wait,"
He said, and shut the kennel gate;
To do it caus'd his heart much grief,
But one reflection gave relief,-
That dogs who snap at hands that feed,
Are very dirty dogs indeed!