VERSES, ON SEEING THE STATUE OF APULLO FALL, DURING THE LATE CONFLAGRATION OF DRURY LANE THEATRE, [From the Morning Post, Feb. 28.] NEAR Drury's celebrated Lane, But Justice soon forsook the place, The Muses to Parnassus flew, Vulcan, in wrath, assails the walls, And Phoebus, poar and friendless, falls Before the God of fue. TEUTHA. THE MYSTERIOUS NOTE. [From the Morning Chronicle, March 3.] TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Valentine.-AS you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, Silva-I thank you, gentle servant: 't is very CLERKLY done. Val. Now trust me, Madam, it came hardy off: For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very debtfully.. 5 ON ON MRS. C-KE BEING CALLED A "BAGGAGE," IN THE COMMITTEE OF INQUIRY. [From the same] WHY, Gentlemen, thus put to so much pain QUIZ. THE PRUDENT RESOLVE. DEDICATED TO ALL THE TRIMMERS OF ST. STEPHEN'S I CHAPEL AT THE PRESENT MOMENT. By a Leorned Gentleman. [From the same, March 7.] DARE not help the D of John Bull will make a piece of work; I dare not join that Wardle's corps, To please both sides, the way I'll choose is, And since the a sizes are so near, FANUS. ON OUR METROPOLITAN REVIEW. [Fio e a e, March 13.] SURE 't is the Edinbro'-Its cover, type, EPIGRAMS ON O'MEARA'S GOING IN SEARCH OF PREFERMENT. [From the same.] So great on the church were O'Meara's designs, ANOTHER. SURE such treatment each son of the church would displease, To be robb'd of his living, yet pay the Clark's fees. ANOTHER. To be dignified here as the highest of priests, ANOTHER, DETERMIN'D no more to be left in the lurch, MATCH EXTRAORDINARY. [From the same, March 20.] A GRAND cricket-match, for the highest stakes ever known to have been played for in this kingdom, is said to be in agitation between His Royal Highness the late Commander in Chief, and the military club of general officers, on one side, against all England on the other side. This match, which was lately proposed at one of the meetings of the club after dinner, was warmly supported by the Secretary at War, as well as all the Members present; and Mr. Whitbread Whitbread and Mr. Canning have accepted the challenge on the part of all England. Doubts, however, begin to be entertained, whether the military gentlemen feel quite so bold in their cooler moments, as they did in those of their convivial festivity. Indeed, they are thought to be so greatly overmatched, that not a bet can be got upon them at any odds. There is certainly no comparison between the leaders of the two sides. His Royal Highness, it must be admitted, has shown himself a good runner; but unfortunately, in all the matches he has played, he has let his adversaries get a great number of notches by by-balls, from being a very bad stopper; and the Secretary at War is not only a miserable field's-man, but once in a great match near Ferrol, when he had the game in his own hands, lost it in an unaccountable manner, by never stirring from his wicket. On the other side, Mr. Whitbread is well known to be a very hard hitter, and Mr. Canning is allowed to catch a ball and throw it in with more dexterity and quickness than any man in the kingdom. Should the match be made up, we shall give our readers the earliest notice of the time and place of meeting. EPIGRAMS, ON GOING INTO A CERTAIN HOUSE AFTER SOME RECENT CIRCUMSTANCES. WHAT [From the same.] a chapel is this! said John Bull with a sneer; One should think, from the dirt, that white-washing's done here. POOR Justice never well could see; She's old-there's now no hope to mend her! For she examines the degree, Not of th' offence-but the offender,. EPIGRAM. [From the same, March 23.J THAT Truth is not of royal growth, EPIGRAM. [From the Morning Post] GOOD Mr. Whitbread, Nought than this you must own can be truer, Ought as soon to convince As that of a strumpet or brewer. EPIGRAM. [From the Morning Chronicle, March 25.] 'O Wardle, sage Perceval jeeringly said, head;" But the Duke is unhappily left to bemoan, of a much cooler That his friends did not use any heads—but their own. TO THE MEMORY OF SIR JOHN MOORE. [From the Day, March 1.] WHO has not felt exulting raptures glow For England's triumph o'er her haughty foe? |