farriage is-Gad! I'm rather late!
a Fleur, my stays,—and chocolate!
-n the Champagne !—so plaguy sour,
gives the headach in an hour;
arriage is really though, 'twas hard
lose a thousand on a card;-

k the old Duchess!-three revokes!
ad! I must fell the Abbey oaks;
ary has lost a thousand more;
arriage is-Gad! a cursed bore !"

Hymen, who hears the blockheads groan, ses indignant from his throne, id mocks their self-reviling tears, d whispers thus in Folly's ears!Oh! frivolous of heart and head! strifes infest your nuptial bed,

t Hymen's hand, but Guilt and Sin, shion, and Folly, force them in; on your couch is seated Care, id not bring the scoffer there; Hymen's torch is feebler grown, hand that quench'd it was your own; I what I am, unthinking elves! all have made me for yourselves!"

HAVE PATIENCE.

simple countryman, who had in his person all health and vigour which a rustic life affords, and at the age of thirty-two, having, three years re married an honest maid, of whom he always ared doatingly fond, was attending her corpse at grave with many heavy sighs and floods of tears. end of the funeral-service, as they began to he grave with the earth, he wrung his hands, tore air, and was ready to throw himself into the ⚫ upon the coffin, vehemently exclaiming that uld not survive her. It happened that a buxom of the same parish, whose name was Patience, tanding by, and on whom the honest countryat times had cast a wistful look, who seeing him itated, and grieving so much for the loss of his with great concern said to him," John, John, Patience."-The honest countryman turning

PROLOGUE TO THE INCONSTANT,

Like hungry guests a sitting audience looks:
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks:
The founders you: the table is the place:
The carvers we: the prologue is the grace:
Each act a course; each scene a different dish:
Tho' we're in Lent, I doubt you're still for flesh,
Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp, and rough;
Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepper-proof.
Wit, is the wine; but 'tis so scarce the true,
Poets, like vintners, balderdash and brew.
Your surly scenes, where rant and bloodshed join,
Are butcher's meat; a battle's a sirloin:
Your scenes of love, so flowing, soft, and chaste,
Are water-gruel, without salt or taste.

Bawdy's fat venison, which, tho' stale, can please : Your rakes love haut-gouts, like your d-d French cheese.

Your rarity, for the fair guest to gape on,

Is your nice squeaker, or Italian capon;

Or your French virgin-pullet, garnish'd round,
And dress'd with sauce of some-four hundred pound.
An opera, like an oglio, nicks the age;
Farce is the hasty-pudding of the stage;
You can dispense with slender stage-coach fare.
For when you're treated with indifferent cheer,
A pastoral's whipt cream; stage whims, mere trash;
And tragi-comedy, half fish and flesh.
But comedy, that, that's the darling cheer;
This night, we hope, you'll an Inconstant bear:
Wild fowl is lik'd in playhouse all the year.

Yet since each mind betrays a different taste,
And every dish scarce pleases ev'ry guest,
If aught you relish, do not damn the rest.
This favour crav'd, up let the music strike:
You're welcome all-Now fall too where you like.
FARQUHAR.

RECOVERY OF A SPENDTHRIFT.

A nobleman whose son was a hard drinker, and had been cutting down all the trees upon his estate, in

hat he never employed himself in gardening; he first as a farmer, his father was a farmer. He (witness) ased to be a farmer fifteen or sixteen years ago; : ceased because he had then learnt that business hich he now is. "Who did you learn it of?"-" Is "I see no objecit a proper question, my lord?" a to it."" Then I will answer it; I learnt of Hulme, my brother-in-law; he practised the same the Whitworth doctors, and they were regular

sicians.

fr. Dauncey. Where did they take their degrees? Vitness. I don't believe they ever took a degree. Then were they regular physicians?-"No! I ve they were not, they were only doctors."niy doctors; were they doctors in law, physic, or ty" They doctored cows, and other things, humans as well." "Doubtless, as well: and I doubt not, have doctored brute animals as well man creatures ?"-" I have."

Age to Witness. "Did you ever make up any ane by the prescription of a physician?”—“ I did."Do you understand the characters they ounces, scruples, and drachms ?"-"I do not. you cannot make up their prescriptions from can make up as them ?"-"I cannot, but edicines in my way, as they can in theirs." proportion does an ounce bear to a pound ?"There are 16 ounces to the pound, but sot go by any regular weight, we mix ours by d." "Do you bleed ?"—" Yes."

"With a "Do

with a lancet?"-" With a lancet." ed from the vein or from the artery?"the vein." "There is an artery somewhere e temples; what is the name of that artery ?" not pretend to have as much learning as some Can you tell me the name of that

THE PLEASURES OF BRIGHTON.

A new Song by the Civic Visitants.
Here's fine Mrs. Hoggins from Aldgate,
Miss Dobson and Deputy Dump,
Mr. Spriggins has left Norton-Falgate,
And so has Sir Christopher Crump.
From Shoreditch, Whitechapel, and Wapping,
Miss Potts, Mr. Grub, Mrs. Keats,

In the waters of Brighton are popping,
Or killing their time in its streets.
And it's O! what will become of us?
Dear the vapours and blue-
Devils will seize upon some of us

If we have nothing to do.
This here, ma'am, is Sally, my daughter,
Whose shoulder has taken a start,
And they tell me, a dip in salt water

Will soon make it straight as a dart :-
Mr. Banter assured Mrs. Mumps,

(But he's always a playing his fun,)
That the camel that bathes with two humps,
Very often comes out with but one.
And it's O! &c.

And here is my little boy Jacky,
Whose godfather gave me a hint,
That by salt-water baths in a crack he
Would cure his unfortunate squint.
Mr. Yellowly's looking but poorly,

It isn't the jaundice, I hope;

Wou'd you recommend bathing? O surely,
And let him take-plenty of soap.
And it's O! &c.

Your children torment you to jog 'em

On donkeys that stand in a row, But the more you belabour and flog 'em, The more the cross creatures won't go. T'other day, ma'am, I thump'd and I cried, And my darling, roar'd louder than me, But the beast wouldn't budge till the tide Had bedraggled me up to the knee!

And it's O! &c.

er frown?

You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee;
I will turn and trim up my old russet gowne,
With every thing else as fine as may bee:
Do our mill-horses swift we will ride,
pillowes and pannells as we shall provide.

his most statelye sort rode they unto the court;
heir jolly sonne Richard rode foremost of all,
set up, for good hap, a cock's feather in his cap;
id so they jetted downe to the king's hall :
terry old miller with hands on his side:
wife, like maid Marian, did mince at that tide.
king and his nobles, that heard of their coming,
reting this gallant knight with his brave traine;
me, sir knight, quoth he, with your gay lady:
od sir John Cockle, once welcome againe :
so is the squire of courage soe free.

> Dicke, A bots on you! do you know me? our king gentlye, How should I forget thee? if wast my own bed-fellowe, well it I wot. r, quoth Richard, and by the same token, with thy farting didst make the bed hot, whore-son unhappy knave, then quothe the night,

cleanly to our king, or else go sh*t*.

The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily,
While the king taketh them both by the hand;
With the court-dames and maids, like to the queen of
spades,

The miller's wife did soe orderly stand,
A milk maid's courtesye at every word;
And downe all the folkes were set to the board.

There the king royally, in princelye majestye,
Sate at his dinner with joy and delight;
When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell,
And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight:
Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer;
Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.
Quoth sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire:
But then said our king, now I think of a thing,

Some of your lightfoot I would we had here.
Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well I may say it,
"Tis knavery to eate, and then to betray it.
What art thou angrye? quoth our king merrilye;
In faith, I take it now very unkind:

I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartily.

Quoth Dicke, You are like to stay till I have din'd: You feed us with twatling dishes soe small; Zounds, a black pudding is better than all.

Aye, marry, quoth our kyng, that were a daintye thing,

Could a man get but one here for to eat. With that Dick strait arose, and plucked one from his hose,

Which with heat of his breech gan to sweate. The king made a proffer to snatch it away: 'Tis meat for your master: good sir, you must stay.

Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent,
And then the ladyes prepared to dance:
Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard incontinent,
Unto their places the king did advance :
Here with the ladyes such sport they did make,
The nobles with laughing did make their sides ake.