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The PLEASURES OF BRIGHTo N. A new Song by the Civic Visitants. Here's fine Mrs. Hoggins flom Aldgate, Miss Dobson and Deputy Dump, * Mr. Spriggins has left Norton-Falgate, 'A. so has Sir Christopher Crump. From Shoreditch, W. 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 blueDevils 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 o
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.


Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, Which did about the board merrily trowle.

Here, quoth the miller, good fellowe, I drinke to thee,
And to all cuckolds, wherever they bee.
I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thanke thee
For my good welcome in every degree.
And here, in like manner, I drinke to thy sonne.
Do then, quoth Richard, and quicke let it come.

Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoote,
And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste.
A faire ven’son pastye brought she out presentlye.
Eate, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste: -
Here's dainty lightfoote! In faith, sayd the king,
I never before eate so dainty a thing.

I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is,
For we doe eat of it everye day.
In what place, sayd our king, may be bought like to
this 2 - -
We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay:
From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;
Now and then we make bold with our king's deer

Then I thinke, sayd our king, that it is venison.
Eche foole, quoth Richard, full well may know that:
Never are wee without two or three in the roof,
Very well fleshed and excellent fat:
But, pr’ythee, say nothing wherever thou goe;
We would not for two pence the king should it knowe.

Doubt not, then sayd the king, my promised secresye;
The king shall never know more on't for me.
A cupp of lambs-wool they dranke unto him then,
And to their bedds they past presentlie.
The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,
For to seeke out the king in everye towne.

At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy’d him out,
As he was mounting upon his faire steede;
To whom they came presently, falling down on their
*Which made the miller's heart wofully bleede:
Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,
Thinking he should have been hang'd by the rood,

The king perceiving him fearfully trembling,
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he sed:
The miller downe did fall, erying before them all.
Doubting the king would have cut off his head:
But he his kind courtesy for to requite,
Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight.

Part the Second.

When as our royall king home from Nottingham.
And with his nobles at Westminster lay;
Recounting the sports and pastimes they had take.
In this late progress along on the way :
Of them all, great and small, he did protest.
The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best.

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|A pursuivante there was sent straight on the los

The which had often-times been in those partaWhen he came to the place where they did down. His message orderlye then 'gan he telí. God save your worshippe, then said the messenger. And grant your ladye her owne heart's desmo And to your sonne Richard good fortune and hapeThat sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire. Our king greets you well, and thus he doth so. You must come to the court on St. George's das Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place. I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd josts What should we do there? faith, I am halfe == . I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the osNay, quoth the messenger, you doe mistake Our king he provides a great feast for Your oaks. Then sayd the miller, By my troth, messesser. Thou hast contented my worshi full wet. Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy seaFor these happy tydings, which thou does so

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Many thankes for their panes did the king give them,
Asking young Richard then, if he would wed;
Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee?
Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, sir, with the red head:
She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed;
She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead.
Then Sir John Cockle the king call'd unto him,
And of merry Sherwood made him o'er-seer;
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound
Take heed now you steal no more of my deer :
And ence a quarter let's here have your view,
And now, Sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu.

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hu M.A.NE J U R Y MAN.

“Look at the juryman in the blue coat,” said one of the Old Bailey court to Justice Nares; “do you see him?” “Yes,” “Well, we shall not have a sin. gle conviction to day for any capital offence.” The observation was verified. . The juryman was Mr. Phillips of St. Paul's church-yard, afterwards sheriff; and during his shrievalty no execution took place.


An appointment was made with an astronomer, to be at his observatory, there to see an eclipse. The good company, considering, celestial and terrestrial engagements in the same light, attended the philosoPher, and, after chatting some time, at last recollected *eir business, and begged to see the eclipse," I am

sorry, says the doctor, that I could not preval with sun and moon to wait for you, -the eclipse was tries long before your arrival.

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Courtship is a fine bowling-green turf, all galloping ad, of sweet-hearting, a sunshine holiday in mer time. But when once through matrimony's pike, the weather becomes wintry, and some ands are seized with a cold aguish fit, to which faculty gives the name of indifference. Courtis matrimony's running footman, but seldom to sec the stocking thrown; it is too often car. away by the two grand preservatives of matrias friendship, delicacy and gratitude. There is unother distemper very mortal to the honey-moon, hat the ladies sometimes are seized with, and ollege of physicians call it sullenness. This oper generally arises from some ill-conditioned o, with which the lady has been hurt; who leaning on her elbow upon the breakfast table, eek resting upon the palm of her hand, her eyes

time;—the husband in the meanwhile biting his lips, pulling down his ruffles, stamping about the room, and looking at his lady like the devil. At last he abruptly demands of her, “What's the matter with you, madam?" The lady mildly replies—“Nothing.” “What is it you do mean, madam?”—“Nothing.” “What would you make me, madam?”—“ Nothing.”. “What is it I have done to you, madam?”—“O—h —nothing.” And this quarrel arose as they sat at breakfast: the lady very innocently observed, “She believed the tea was made with Thames water.” The husband in mere contradiction insisted upon it that the tea-kettle was filled out of the New River.

NINE Prns.

The late Earl of Londsdale was so extensive a proprietor and patron of boroughs, that he returned nine members every parliament, who were facetiously called, “Lord Lonsdale's nine pins.” One of the members thus designated having made a very extravagant speech in the House of Commons, was answered by Mr. Burke in a vein of the happiest sarcasm, which elicited from the House loud and continued cheers. Mr. Fox entering the House just as Mr. Burke was sitting down, inquired of Sheridan what the House was cheering “Q, nothing of conseuence,” replied Sheridan, “only Burke has knocked own one of Lord Londsdale's nine pins.”


Written on the Cross of St. Paul's. The man that pays his pence, and goes Up to thy lofty cross, St. Paul, , Looks over London's naked nose, Women and men : The world is all beneath his ken, He sits above the ball. He seems on Mount Olympus' top, Among the Gods, by Jupiter and lets drop His eyes from the empyreal clouds On mortal crowds.

Seen from these skies,

arnestly upon the fire, her feet beating tat-too

How small those emmets in our eyes!

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