Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

- denouement must needs be droll, were folly not to see the whole." suming thus the future pleasure,

man kept post, to wait the sleeper's leisure.

At length our porter's slumbers o'er
He jog'd on tott'ring as before;
Unconscious any body, kind,
Had eas'd him of his load behind.
Now on the houses turn'd his eye,
As if his journey's end was nigh,
Then read a paper in his hand,

And made a stand.

Haman drew near with eager mien,
To mark the closing of the scene,
Expecting straight a furious din,
His features ready for a grin.

Bow we need but mention one thing more,
show how well he must have lik'd the whim,
drunk, our porter hit at last the door,

Haman found the hare was sent to him.

RATES OF CONSCIENCE.

believes at the rate of seven thousand a year, and I only at that of fifty."

THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY.

A man, in many a country town, we know,
Professing openly with death to wrestle,
Enters the field against the foe,

Arm'd with a mortar and a pestle.
Yet some affirm no enemies they are;
But meet, just like prize-fighters in a fair:
Who first shake hands before they box,
Then give each other plaguy knocks,
With all the love and kindness of a brother.
So (many a suff'ring patient saith)
Though the apothecary fights with death,
Still they're sworn friends to one another.
A member of this Æsculapian line,
Liv'd at Newcastle upon Tyne:
No man could better gild a pill,
Or make a bill,

Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister,
Or draw a tooth out of your head;
Or chatter scandal by your bed.

Or give a glister.

Of occupations, these were quantum suff.,
Yet still he thought the list not long enough:
And therefore midwifery he chose to pin to't.
This balanc'd things for if he hurl'd
A few score mortals from the world,

He made amends by bringing others into't, His fame full six miles round the country ran: In short, in reputation he was solus;

All the old women called him "a fine man!" His name was Bolus.

Benjamin Bolus, though in trade,

(Which oftentimes will genius fetter);

Bergyman was so much averse to the Athana-
reed, that he never would read it. The arch-Read works of fancy, it is said;
having been informed of his recusancy sent
chdeacon to ask him the reason. "I do not
it," said the priest. "But your metropolitan
replied the archdeacon. "It may be so," re
he other, "and he can well afford it. He

And cultivated the Belles Lettres.
And why should this be thought so odd?
Can't men have taste who cure a phthisic?
Of poetry though patron god,
Apollo patronises physic.

Bolus lov'd verse, and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolv'd to write in't. No opportunity he e'er let pass

Of writing the directions on his labels,
In dapper couplets-like Gay's Fables;
Or rather like the lines in Hudibras.
Apothecary's verse !-and where's the treason;
Tis simply honest dealing;-not a crime;
When patients swallow physic without reason,
It is but fair to give a little rhyme.
He had a patient lying at death's door,

Some three miles from the town, it might be four,
To whom one evening Bolus sent an article
In pharmacy, that's call'd cathartical,
And, on the label of the stuff,

He wrote verse;

Which one would think was clear enough,

And terse: "When taken,

To be well shaken."

Next morning, early, Bolus rose,
And to the patient's house he goes
Upon his pad,

Who a vile trick of stumbling had :
It was indeed a very sorry hack;
But that's of course,

For what's expected from a horse,
With an apothecary upon his back?
Bolus arriv'd and gave a loudish tap,
Between a single and a double rap.
Knocks of this kind

Are giv'n by gentlemen who teach to dance,
By fiddlers and by opera singers :

One loud, and then a little one behind,
As if the knocker fell by chance

Out of their fingers.

The servant lets him in with dismal face,
Long as a courtier's out of place-

Portending some disaster;
John's countenance as rueful look'd and grim,
As if th' apothecary had physick'd him,
And not his master.

'Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said: John shook his head."

"Indeed!--hum!-ha!—that's very odd! "He took the draught!" John gave a nod.

Well, how ?-what then? speak out you dunce." "Why then," says John, "we shook him once." "Shook him! how!" Bolus stammered out: "We jolted him about” "Zounds! shake a patient, man,-a shake won't du" "No, Sir, and so we gave him two." "Two shakes!-odds curse! ""Twould make the patient worse." "It did so, Sir, and so a third we tried." "Well, and what then?"-" Then, Sir, my mas died."

HORSE AND ASS.

COLMAN

A jocky lord met his old college tutor at a horse fair. "Ah! doctor," exclaimed the p "what brings you here among these high-bred ca Do you think you can distinguish a horse from ass "My lord," replied the tutor, ceived you among these horses."

THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE RAZOR SELLI A fellow in a market town,

Most musical cried razors up and down,
And offer'd twelve for eighteen-peace;
Which certainly seem'd wondrous cheap,
And for the money quite a heap,

As ev'ry man would buy, with cash and sense
A country bumpkin the great offer heard.
Poor Hodge, who suffer'd by a broad black
That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his r
With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he pa
And proudly to himself in whisper said,
"This rascal stole the razors I suppose.

No matter if the fellow be a knave,
Provided that the razors shave,

It certainly will be a monstrous prize.”

So home the clown with his good fortune»
Smiling, in heart and soul content,

And quickly soap'd himself to ears and ere

[ocr errors]

THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.

Being well lather'd from a dish or tub,

Hodge now began, with grinning pain, to grub, Just like a hedger cutting furze :

'Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he try'dAll were impostors-"Ah!" Hodge sigh'd, "I wish my eighteen-peace within my purse." In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, He cut, and dug, and winc'd, and stamp'd, and

swore,

Brought blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd, and made wry faces,

And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o'er. His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff, Firm as a Foxite, would not lose it's ruff, So kept it-laughing at the steel and suds. Hodge in a passion stretch'd his angry jaws, Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench'd claws, On the vile cheat that sold the goods. Razors!-a vile, confounded dogNot fit to scrape a hog!"

[ocr errors]

Hodge sought the fellow-found him-and begun,
Prhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun,
That people flay themselves out of their lives:
You rascal! for an hour have I been grubbing,
Giving my rascal whiskers here a scrubbing,
With razors just like oyster-knives.

Surrah! I tell you you're a knave,
To cry up razors that can't shave."

"Friend," quoth the razor man, "I'm not a knave:
As for the razors you have bought,
Upon my soul, I never thought

That they would shave."

"

349

Idish containing the fowls, which she pronounced FOOLS. I presume, madam, you mean fowls," said Mr. R. very pompously:-"Very well, be it so," said the lady, "take away the fowls, but let the FOOL

remain !"

GARRULITY OF WOMEN.

Some philosophers maintain that speech is the criterion of reason. Parrots and other birds speak; are they then rational? Women we know are rational, but would they be less so if they spoke less?

MY LANDLADY'S NOSE.

O'er the evils of life 'tis a folly to fret,
Despondence and grief never lessen'd them yet;
Then a fig for the world-let it come as it goes,
I'll sing to the praise of my landlady's nose.
My landlady's nose is in noble condition,
For longitude, latitude, shape, and position;
'Tis as round as a horn, and as red as a rose,
Success to the bulk of my landlady's nose!
To jeweller's shops let your ladies repair,
For trinkets and nicknacks to give them an air;
Here living carbuncles, a score of them glows
On the big massy sides of my landlady's nose.
Old Patrick M'Dougherty, when on the fuddle,
Pulls out a segar, and looks up to her noddle;
For Dougherty swears, when he swigs a good dose,
By Marjory's firebrand, my landlady's nose.
Ye wishy-wash butter-milk drinkers so cold,
Come here, and the virtues of brandy behold;
Here's red burning Etna-a mountain of snows

"Not think they'd shave?" quoth Hodge, with Would roar down in streams from my landlady's nose.

wond'ring eyes,

And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, What were they made for then, you dog?" he cries: "Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile-" to sell."

FOWLS AND FOOLS.

P. PINDAR.

A clergyman of Edinburgh dining with a friend, the lady of the house desired the servant to take away the

But, Gods! when this trunk with an uplifted arm,
She grasps in the dish-clout to blow an alarm;
Horns, trumpets, and conchs, are but screaming of

crows,

To the loud-thund'ring twang of my landlady's nose.
My landlady's nose unto me is a treasure,
A care-killing nostrum-a fountain of pleasure;
If I want for a laugh to discard allay woes,
I only look up to my landlady

WOMAN'S WISDOM.

One of the Cecil family, minister to Scotland from England, was speaking to Mary, queen of Scots, of the wisdom of his sovereign, queen Elizabeth. Mary stopped him short by saying," Pray, Sir, don't talk to me of the wisdom of a woman; I think I know my own sex pretty well, and can assure you, that the wisest of us all is only a little less a fool than the others."

THE ROYAL LIBRARIAN.

George III., shortly after his accession to the throne, walking one morning into his library, found one of the under librarians asleep in a chair. He stepped up softly to him, and gave him a slight slap on the cheek; the sleeper clapt his hand on the place instantly, and, with his eyes still closed, taking the disturber of his nap for his fellow librarian, whose name was George, exclaimed, " Hang it, George, let me alone, you are always doing one foolish trick or another."

[ocr errors]

PROLOGUE, FOR A COMPANY OF COMEDIANS, WHO PERFORMED AT WINCHESTER OVER A BUTCHER'S

SHAMBLES.

Whoe'er our stage examines, must excuse
The wondrous shifts of the dramatic Muse;
Then kindly listen, while the prologue rambles
From wit to beef, from Shakspeare to the shambles;
Divided only by one flight of stairs,

The actor swaggers, and the butcher swears!
Quick the transition when the curtain drops,
From meek Monimia's moans, to mutton chops!
While for Lothario's loss Lavinia cries,
Old women scold, and dealers d-n your eyes!
Here Juliet listens to the gentle lark,
There in harsh chorus hungry bull-dogs bark;
Cleavers and scimitars give blow for blow,
And heroes bleed above, and sheep below!
While magic thunders shake the pit and box,
Rebellows to the roar the stagg'ring ox.
Cow-horns and trumpets mix their martial tones,
Kidneys and kings, mouthing and marrow-bones;
Suet and sighs, blank verse and blood abound,

And form a tragi-comedy around.
With weeping lovers dying calves complain;
Confusion reigns-chaos is come again!
Hither your steelyards, butchers, bring, to weigh
The pound of flesh Antonio's blood must pay!
Hither your knives, ye Christians clad in blue,
Bring to be whetted by the worthless Jew.

Hard is our lot, who, seldom doom'd to eat,
Cast a sheep's-eye on this forbidden meat-
Gaze on sirloins, which, ah! we cannot carve,
And in the midst of beef, of mutton-starve!

But would ye to our house in crowds repair, Ye gen'rous captains, and ye blooming fair, The fate of Tantalus we should not fear, Nor pine for a repast that is so near; Monarchs no more would supperless remain, Nor hungry queens for cutlets long in vain. WARTON.

SPEAKING IN TIME.

A buffoon at the court of Francis I. complained to the king that a great lord threatened to murder him for uttering some jokes about him. "If he does" said Francis," he shall be hanged in five minutes after." "I wish," replied the complainant, "your majesty would hang him five minutes before."

A LONG TEXT.

A clergyman was once going to preach upon the text of the Samaritan woman, and after reading it, he said, "Do not wonder, my beloved, that the test is so long, for it is a woman that speaks."

THE JEW BEGINNING THE WORLD AGAIN. Two criminals, a Christian and a Jew,

Who'd been to honest feelings rather callous,
Were on a platform once expos'd to view;

Or come, as some folks call it, to the gallows;
Or, as of late a quainter phrase prevails,
To weigh their weight upon the city scales.
In dreadful form, the constables and shrieve,

The priest, and ordinary, and crowd attended,
Till fix'd the poose, and all had taken leave;

When the poor trembling Israelite, befriended,

THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.

eard, by express, from officer of state, gracious pardon quite reverse his fate.

mov'd he seem'd, and to the spot close sticking, Ne'er offers, thro' he's bid, to quit the place, Lin the air the other fellow's kicking; The sheriff thought that some peculiar grace, ae Hebrew form of silent, deep devotion, 1 for a while depriv'd him of his motion. by the sheriff being ask'd aloud, Why not with proper officer he went? aswer'd thus, (surprising all the crowd,) fith eyes upon the dying Christian bent, ly wait awhile pefore I coes, Aster Catch to pay te tead man's clo'es."

FASHIONABLE ROUTS,

How strange it is," said a lady, “that fashionable should be called routs! Why rout formerly jed the defeat of an army, and when the soldiers all put to flight or to the sword, they were said routed." "This title has some propriety too," clergyman, "for at these meetings whole es are frequently routed out of house and home."

AVOIDING A DUN.

Entleman, who was examined as a witness by Mr. Dunning, being repeatedly asked by the Bor if he did not lodge in the verge of the it fength replied, " He did."-"And pray, sir, reason did you take up your residence in ce "In the vain hope," replied the of avoiding the rascally impertinence of

THE WATER-FIENDS.

dmoor, all brown and bleak,

broods the heath-frequenting grouse, pod a tenement antique, Hoppergollop's country house.

cereign'd, with lips of glue,
disturb'd maintain'd her law;

the owl cried, "Whoo! whoo! whoo!" Arse crow croak'd, "Caw! caw! caw !"

Neglected mansion!-for 'tis said,

Whene'er the snow came feath'ring down,
Four barbed steeds, from the Bull's-head,
Carried thy master up to town.
Weep, Hoppergollop!-Lords may moan,
Who stake, in London, their estate
On two small rattling bits of bone,
On little figure, or on great.

Swift whirl the wheels-He's gone-A rose
Remains behind, whose virgin look,
Unseen, must blush in wintry snows,
Sweet beauteous blossom!-'twas the cook.
A bolder far than my weak note,

Maid of the moor, thy charms demand;
Eels might be proud to lose their coat,
If skinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand.
Long had the fair one sat alone,

Had none remain'd save only she ;-
She by herself had been-if one

Had not been left, for company.
Twas a tall youth, whose cheek's clear hue
Was ting'd with health and manly toil;
Cabbage he sow'd; and, when it grew,
He always cut it off, to boil.
"Delve, delve the hole!
Oft would he cry,
And prune the tree, and trim the root!
And stick the wig upon the pole,

To scare the sparrows from the fruit."
A small, mute favourite, by day

Follow'd his step; where'er he wheels
His barrow round the garden gay,

A bob-tail cur is at his heels.
Ah, man! the brute creation see!
Thy constancy oft needs the spur!
While lessons of fidelity

Are found in ev'ry bob-tail cur.

Hard toil'd the youth, so fresh and strong,
While Bob-tail in his face would look,

And mark his master troll the song

"Sweet Molly Dumpling! Oh, thou cook!"

« ZurückWeiter »