**D*

and broke into pieces, Themistocles loses his quality, | full length, his hands across his breast, his toes but increases his quantity, and becomes the Miss contact, his eyes and mouth closely shut, and ha Tokeleys; the Cyclades, by the same disorder, be- looks cadaverous. come sick ladies; a "delectable enjoyment" is a "Well, sir, how do you do, this morning!" ass! deal-legged-table pleasure; &c. &c. pun without Dr Stevenson, in a jocular way, approachung his l end. These are what he denominates punlings. "How do I do?" replied the hypochondriac fan For his puns, they fall as thick from him as leaves" a pretty question to ask a dead man." from autumn-bowers. Sometime since, he talked of replied the doctor. Yes, sir, dead, quite dead petitioning for the office of pun-purveyor to his ma- died last night about twelve o'clock." jesty; but ere he had written "and your petitioner Dr. Stevenson putting his hand gently on the shall ever" pun, it was bestowed on the yeoman of head of the hypochondriac, as if to ascertain gr the guard. He still, however, talks of opening busi- it was cold, and also feeling his pulse, excian ness as pun-wright in general to his Majesty's a doleful note, Yes, the poor man is dead es subjects," for the diffusion of that pleasant small- 'tis all over with him, and now the sooner he ca ware of wit; and intends to advertise" puns whole-buried the better." Then stepping up to his sale, retail, and for exportation. N. B. 1.-A liberal and whispering to her not to be frightened at tr allowance made to captains and gentlemen going to measures he was about to take, he called to the 57 the East or West Indies. Hooks, Peakes, and Po- vant; "My boy, your poor master is dead; a cocks, supplied on moderate terms. Worn-out senti- sooner he can be put in the ground the better. ments and clap-traps taken in exchange. N. B. 2.-to C-m, for I know he always keeps New E May be had in a large quantity in a great deal box, coffins by him ready made; and do you her! price five acts of sterling comedy, per packet; or in a coffin of the largest size, for your master ma small quantities in court-plaster-sized boxes, price stout corpse, and having died last night, 201 one melodrama and an interlude, per box-N. B. 3. weather being warm, he will not keep Inng -The genuine are sealed with a Munden grin; all others are counterfeits. Long live Apollo !" &c. &c.

Away went the servant, and soon returted. proper coffin. The wife and family having got s lesson from the doctor, gathered around howled not a little while they were putting the in the coffin. Presently the pall-bearers, wh quickly provided and let into the secret, starte the hypochondriac for the church-yanl. 17not gone far, before they were met by one town's people, who, having been properis tr Stevenson, cried out, "Ah, doctor, what p have you got there?"

"Poor Mr. B-," sighed the doctor, a' last night."

"Great pity he had not left us twenty year replied the other; "he was a bad man."

Presently another of the townsmen met f*the same question, " And what poor soul t got there, doctor?"

"Poor Mr. B," answered the decsrf "is dead."

"

THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.

'Ah! indeed," said the other; "and so he is gone | I could for ever here with wonder gaze; to meet his deserts at last."

"O, villain!" exclaimed the man in the coffin. Soon after this, while the pall-bearers were resting hemselves near the church-yard, another stepped up ith the old question again, "What poor soul have ou got there, doctor?"

"Poor Mr. B— " he replied, "is gone." "Yes and to the bottomless pit," said the other; for if he is not gone there, I see not what use there for such a place." Here the dead man, bursting f the lid of the coffin, which had been purposely ft loose, leaped out, exclaiming, " O, you villain! am gone to the bottomless pit am I? Well, I have me back again, to pay such ungrateful rascals as u are." A chase was immediately commenced, by e dead man after the living, to the petrifying conrnation of many of the spectators, at sight of a pse, in all the horrors of the winding sheet, rung through the streets. After having exercised self into a copious perspiration by the fantastic e, the hypochondriac was brought home by Dr. venson, freed from all his complaints; and by ngthening food, generous wine, cheerful company, moderate exercise, was soon restored to perfect

1th.

PROLOGUE TO BARBAROSSA.

I ne'er saw a church so full, in all my days!—
Your servant, sirs-What do you laugh for, eh?
You donna take me sure for one o' the play?
You should not flout an honest country lad—
You think me fool, and I think you half mad:
You're all as strange as I, and stranger too;
And, if you laugh at me, I'll laugh at you.

[Laughing.

I donna like your London tricks, not I;
And, since you've rais'd my blood, I'll tell you why:
And, if you wull, since now I am before ye,
For want of pro-log, I'll relate my story.

I came from country here to try my fate,
And get a place among the rich and great:
But troth I'm sick o' th' journey I ha' ta'en;
I like it not-would I were whoame again!
First, in the city I took up my station,
And got a place with one o' th' corporation.
A round big man-he eat a plaguy deal ;
Zooks! he'd have beat five ploomen at a meal!
But long with him I could not make abode,
For, could you think't?-he eat a great sea-toad!
It came from Indies 'twas as big as me;
He call'd it belly-patch, and cap-a-pee:
La! how I star'd!-I thought-who knows, but I,
For want of monsters, may be made a pie ?
Rather than tarry here for bribe or gain,

ken by Garrick, in the character of a Country I'll back to whoame and country fare again.

ister! measter!

Boy.

of my measter here among you, pray?
speak-my measter wrote this fine new play
actor-folks are making such a clatter!
want the pro-log-I know nought o' the mat-

I left toad-eater; then I serv'd a lord,
And there they promis'd!- but ne'er kept their word.
While 'mong the great this geaming work the trade is,
They mind no more poor servants-than their ladies,

A lady next, who lik't a smart young lad,
Hir'd me forthwith-but, troth, I thought her mad.
She turn'd the world top-down, as I may say,
She chang'd the day to neet, the neet to day!
I was so sheam'd with all her freakish ways,
She wore her gear so short, so low her stays-
Fine folks show all for nothing now-a-days!
-I find with wits
Now I'm the poet's mon
There's nothing sartain-nay, we eat by fits.

Our meals, indeed, are slender-what of that?
There are but three on's-measter, I, and cat.
Did you but see us all, as I'm a sinner,
You'd scarcely say which of the three is thinner.
My wages all depend on this night's piece;
But should you find that all our swans are geese!
'Efeck, I'll trust no more to measter's brain,
But pack up all and whistle whoame again.

EPILOGUE TO THE SAME.

Spoken by Mr. Woodward, in the character of a fine Gentleman.

[Speaking without.

Poor gaming too, was maul'd among the rest,
That precious cordial to a high-life breast!
When thoughts arise, I always game or drink,
An English gentleman should never think-
The reason's plain, which ev'ry soul might hit os-
What trims a Frenchman, oversets a Briton.
In us reflection breeds a sober madness,
Which always ends in politics or sadness,
I therefore now propose, by your command,
That tragedies no more shall cloud this land.
Send o'er your Shakspeares to the sons of Fran
Let them grow grave-let us begin to dance'
Banish your gloomy scenes to foreign elines,
A Farce or two-and Woodward's pantomines

'Pshaw! damn your epilogue, and hold your tongue-Reserve alone, to bless these golden times,
Shall we of rank be told what's right and wrong?
Had you ten epilogues, you should not speak 'em,
Tho' he had writ them all in linguum Grecum.
I'll do't, by all the gods! (you must excuse me)
Tho' author, actors, audience, all abuse me!

[To the audience.
Behold a gentleman!-and that's enough!
Laugh if you please—I'll take a pinch of snuff!
I come to tell you (let me not surprise you)
That I'm a wit--and worthy to advise you.
How could you suffer that same country booby,
That pro-log speaking savage, that great looby,
To talk his nonsense?-give me leave to say,
'Twas low! damn'd low!-but save the fellow's play
Let the poor devil eat; allow him that,
And give a meal to measter, mon, and cat!
But why attack the fashions? senseless rogue!
We have no joys but what result from vogue:
The mode should all controul!-nay, ev'ry passion,
Sense, appetite, and all, give way to fashion:
I hate as much as he a turtle-feast,
But 'till the present turtle-rage
I'd ride a hundred miles to make myself a beast.
I have no ears; yet op'ras I adore!
Always prepar'd to die-to sleep—no more!
The ladies too were carp'd at, and their dress,
He wants 'em all ruff'd up like good queen Bess!
They are, forsooth, too much expos'd and free:
Were more expos'd, no ill effects I see,
For more or less, 'tis all the same to me.

ceas'd,

LOQUACITY.

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, t than any man in all Venice: his reasons are ta 1979 grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; yet the seek all day ere you find them: and when you a m them, they are not worth the search.

SCOTTICISMS.

Step in to the fire, (sometimes pronounced step into the fire,) means, in Scotland, come to the fire.

A Scotch woman said, She never mind mons' meaning she never remembered symIGITA He stays in the Lawn-market; i, e. he lives 201 To cry upon a person, means, to call him, me drown him with tears.

To cast out with a person, means, to fall t him.

He is turned a fine boy, means he is br

boy.

He dines at home for ordinary, read, he cam dines at home.

He has cut out his hair, for, he has cut a bi I cannot go the day, for, I cannot go to an To look over the window, for, look ou window.

To be at home, does not mean, in Scotland a

THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.

one's own house; but it means to be at no great | Fowls à la Condé, slices eke of salmon,

Fance, or not out of town.-Is Mr. Bell at home? sir! he is at home, but he is not within, or he

THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.

The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled;
The diners of celebrity dined well;
The ladies with more moderation mingled

In the feast, pecking less than I can tell ;
Also the younger men too; for a springald
Can't like ripe age in gourmandise excel,
But think less of good eating than the whisper
(When seated next him) of some pretty lisper.
Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,

The salmi, the consommé, the purée,
All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber
Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way;
I must not introduce even a spare rib here,

"Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay;
But I have dined, and must forego, alas!
The chaste description even of a “ bécasse,"
And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines
From nature for the service of the gout-
Taste or the gout,-pronounce it as inclines
Your stomach! Ere you dine, the French will do;
But after, there are sometimes certain signs

Which prove plain English truer of the two.
Hast ever had the gout? I have not had it-
But I may have, and you too, reader, dread it.
The simple olives, best allies of wine,

Must I pass over in my bill of fare?
I must, although a favourite "plat" of mine
In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every where :
On them and bread 'twas oft my luck to dine,
The grass my table-cloth, in open air,
On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes,
Of whom half my philosophy the
Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl,
is.
progeny
And vegetables, all in masquerade,
The guests were placed according to their roll,
But various as the various meats display'd.

ABROAD AND AT HOME.

The English abroad can never get to look as were at home. The Irish and Scotch, after being they some time in a place, get the air of the natives; but an Englishman, in any foreign court, looks about him as if he was going to steal a tankard.

SWIFT'S OBJECTION TO MATRIMONT. Though the dean was the best of company, one of the liveliest men in England of bein I said, (when in no ill humour,) "The best of but just tolerable: 'tis the most we can make ef He observed that it was very apt to be a to be used to the best company: and gave a BCT for his not marrying, that he had always loses to converse with women of the higher ciza he might as well think of marrying a prives a single as I am, to keep as good company al of them." A competence" said he "ena what should I have done?" been used to, but with a wife of this kind and

ART OF CONVERSATION.

No one will ever shine in conversation, who ma of saying fine things: to please, one must say things indifferent, and many very bad.

TO DEATH.

Oh, Death! thou dunnest of all duns! them da •
Knockest at doors, at first with modest tap,
Like a meek tradesman when approaching pe
Some splendid debtor he would take by sap.
But oft denied, as patience 'gins to fail, be
Advances with exasperated rap,

And (if let in) insists, in terms unhandsome,
On ready money or "a draft on Ransom."
Whate'er thou takest, spare awhile poor Besty

She is so rare, and thou hast so much pe
What though she now and then may slip fr
The more's the reason why you ought to stay
Gaunt Gourmand! with whole nations for ye
You should be civil in a modest way:
Suppress then some slight feminine diseases,
And take as many heroes as heaven pleas

REMEDY FOR DULNESS.

dull fellow, "Tis a thousand pities that mas Lord Dorset used to say of a very good ill-natured! that one might kick him out pany."