Page images

Theruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, But past is all his fame. The very spot, Claim'd kindred there, and bad his claims allow'd; Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,

Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away; Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Low lies that house where nut-brown drauginta Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields

inspir'd, were won.

glow, Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd. Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to

s. the good man learn'd to / Where village statesmen talk'd with looks pro And quite forgot their vices in their woe;

found, ! Careless their merits or their faults to scan, And news much older than their ale went round; His pity gave ere charity began.

Imagination fondly stoops to trace Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, The parlour splendours of that festire place; And ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side ; . The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, But in his duty prompt, at ev'ry call,

The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ; He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all: | The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay, And, as a bird each fond endearment tries | A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies, The pictures plac'd for ornament and use, He try'd each art, repror'd each dull delay, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day,

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel, gay; And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd, While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, The rev'rend champion stood. At his control, Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row. Despair and anguish fled the struggling soal; | Vain transitory splendours ! could not all Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, Reprieve the tott'ring mansion from its fall! And his last fault'ring accents whisper'd praise. | Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, | An hour's importance to the poor man's heart; His looks adorn'd the venerable place;

Thither no more the peasant shall repair Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, To sweet oblivion of his daily care : And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, The service past, around the pious man,

No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran : No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Ern children follow'd, with endearing wile, Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear; And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's The host himself no longer shall be found smile;

Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest, Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares dis- Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. trest:

Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were giv'n, These simple blessings of the lowly train ; But all his serious thoughts bad rest in Heav'n. To me more dear, congenial to my heart, As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, One native charm, than all the gloss of art; Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the Spontaneous joys, 'where nature has its play, storm,

[spread, The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway; Tho'round its breast the rolling clouds are Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Unenvy'd, unmolested, unconfin'd. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay,

With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, The village master taught his little school : The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; A man severe he was, and stern to view,

And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, I knew him well, and every truant koew;

The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy? Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey The day's disasters in his morning face ;

The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Between a splendid and a happy land. Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd; And shouting Folly hails them from her shore; Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,

Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, The love he bore to learning was in fault;

And rich men flock from all the world around. The village all declar'd how much he knew; | Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name 'Twas certain he could write and cypher too; That leaves our useful product still the same. Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge. 'Takes up a space that many poor supply'd ; Jo arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill, Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, For ev'n though vanquish'd he could argue still; Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; Wbile words of learned length, and thund'ring The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth sound,

Has robb'd the neighb'ring fields of half their Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around;

growth; And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew | His seat, where solitary sports are seen, That one small head should carry all he knew. Indignant spurns the cottage from the green;





Around the world each needful product flies: Those matted woods where birds forget to sing,
For all the luxuries the world supplies:

But silent bats in drowsy elusters cling;
While thus the land, adorn'd for pleasure all, Those pois'nous fields with rank Juxuriano
In barren splendour feebly waits the fall.

As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around:
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
Slights ev'ry borrow'd charm that dress supplies, | The rattling terrours of the vengeful snake; ,
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
But when those charms are past, for charms are And savage men more murd'rous still than they;
When time advances, and wben lovers fail, (frail, While oft in whirls the mad tornado fies,
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless,

Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies.

Baldones a In all the glaring impotence of dress:

Far diff'rent these from ev'ry former scene, Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd,


The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green, In nature's simplest charms at first array'd; The breezy covert of the warbling grove, But verging to decline, its splendours rise, That only shelter'd thefts of harmless lore.

pat Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise ;

Good Hear'n! what sorrows gloom'd that part. While, scourg'd by famine, from the smiling land

ing day, The mournful peasant leads his bumble band; That call'd them from their native walks away;

And while he sinks, without one arm to save, When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure past,
The country blooms--a garden and a grave! Hung round the bow'rs, and fondly look'd their
Where, then, ab! where shall poverty reside,

To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain
If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd, For seats like these beyond the western inain;
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, And, shadd'ring still to face the distant deep,
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep.
And e'en the bare-worn common is deng'd. The good old sire the first prepard to go

If to the city sped—What waits him there? To new-found worlds, and wept for others' moe;
To see profusion that he must not share;

But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;

His lovely daughter, lovelier in ber tears, To see each joy the sons of pleasure know, The fond companion of his belpless years, Extorted from bis fellow-creature's woe.

Silent went next, neglectful of her charias, Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, And left a lover's for ber father's arms. There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomp | And bless'd the cot where ev'ry pleasure ruses display,

And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a There the black gibbet glooms beside the way;

The dome where pleasure holds her midnight And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear;

Whilst her fond husband strore to lend relick
Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train; In all the silent manliness of grief.
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, Luxury! thon cars'd by heav'n's decret,
The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee!
Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy How do thy potions, with insidious joy,
Sure these denote one universal joy! eyes Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!
Are these thy serious thoughts? -Ah, turn thine Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown,
Where the poor bouseless shiv ring female ties : Boast of a florid vigour not their own:
She, once perhaps, in village plenty blest, At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow,
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;

A bloated mass of rank unwieldly woe;
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,

Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part u Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;

sound, Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue, fed, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. Near her betrayer's door she lays her bead,

E'en now the devastation is begud, And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the And half the bus'ness of destruction done; show'r,

E'en now, methioks, as pond'ring bere stand, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,

| I see the rural virtues leave the land , When idly first, ambitious of the town,

Down where yon anch'ring vessel spreads the She left her wheel and robes of country brown. That idly waiting flaps with ev'ry gale,

Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest | Downward they move, a melancholy band, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain ? [train, l'ass from the shore, and darken all the strand. E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, Contented toil, and hospitable care, At proud men's doors they ask a little bread! Apd kind connubial tenderness, are there;

Ab. no. To distant climes, a dreary scene, | And piety with wishes plac d above, Where half the convex world intrudes between, And steady loyalty, and faithful love.

Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, And thou, sweet Poetry, thou laveliest mare, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.

Still fwst to fly where sensual juys mvade! Far diff'rent there from all that obara'd before, I Unfit, in these degen'rate times of shame, The various terrours of that horrid sbore;

To catch the heart, or strike fer honest fante, Those blazing suus that dart a downward ray, Dear charming nymph, neglected and decreth And fiercely shed intolerable day;

My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ;

Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, While thus I debated, in reverie center'd, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so; | An acquaintance, a friend as he called himself, Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,

enter'd; Thou nurse of ev'ry virtue, fare thee well; An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he, Farewell! and O! where'er thy voice be try'd, And he smil'd as he look'd at the ven’son and me. On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,

“ What have we got here ? --- Why this is good Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,

eating ! On winter wraps the polar world in snow,

Your own, I suppose-or is it in waiting ?” Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,

“Why whose should it be?" cry'd I with a Redress the rigours of th’inciement clime;


[bounce: Aid slighted truth, with thy persuasive strain, “I get these things often”—but that was a Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; “ Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the Teach him, that states of native strength possest,

nation, Though very poor, may still be very blest; | Are pleas'd to be kind—but I hate ostentation." That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, “ If that be the case then,”-cry'd he, very As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away ;

gay, While self-dependent pow'r can time defy, "I'm glad I have taken this house in my way. As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

To morrow you take a poor dinner with me;
No words--I insist on't-precisely at three :
We'll have Johnson and Burke; all the wits will
be there ;

Clare THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my lord A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE.

And, now that I think on't, as I am sinner!

We wanted this ven'son to make out a dinner. FIRST PRINTED IN THE YEAR 1765.

What say you-a pasty ; it shall, and it must,

And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust. Thanks, my lord, for your venison, for finer or

Here, porter—this ven'sun with me to Mile-end ; fatter

No stirring, I beg-my dear friend---my dear Neer rang'd in a forest, or smok'd in a platter ;

friend !" The haunch was a picture for painters to study,

Thussnatching his hat, he brush'doff like the wind, 'The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy ; Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce

And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, help regretting

And “ nobody with me at sea but myself ?;" To spoil such a delicate picture by eating :

Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman I had thoughts, in my chamber, to place it in

hasty, view,

(pasty, To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtû:

Yet Johnson, and Barke, and a good venison

Were things that I never dislik'd in my life, As in some Irish houses, where things are so so,

Tho' clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife. One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show ; But, for eating a rasher of what they take pride in,

So next day in due splendour to make my approach,

| I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach. They'd as soon think of eating the pan it is fry'd

When come to the place where we all were to in. But hold—let me pause--don't I hear you pro

(A chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine) nounce, This tale of the bacon's a damnable bounce;

| My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may try,


| With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly. / But, my lord, it's no bounce : 1 protest, in my

“For I knew it,” he cried, “ both eternally fail,

The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale. It's a truth, and your lordship may ask Mr. Burn'.

But no matter, I'll warrant we'll make up the To go on with my tale--as I gazd on the haunch,

party, I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch;

With two full as clever, and ten times as hearts;

The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew, [you; So I cut it, and sent it to Reynolds undrest, To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd best :

They're both of them merry, and authors like Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose:

The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge ; 'Twas a neck and a breast that might rival Mon

Some think he writes Cinna-heowns to Panurge."

While thus he describ'd them by trade and by roe's: But in parting with these I was puzzled again,

name, With the how, and the who, and the where, and

They enter'd, and dinner was serv'd as they came. the wben.

TH_ff. | At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen, There's H-d, and C-y, and H-rth, and

At the bottom was tripe in a swinging tureen ; I think they love ven’son—I know they love beef.

At the sides there were spinnage and pudding There's my countryman Higgins-Oh ! let him

made hot! For making a blunder, or picking a bone.(alone,

In the middle a place where the pasty-was not. But hang it-to poets who seldom can eat,

Now, my lord, as for tripe, it's my utier aversion, Your very good mutton's a very good treat;

And your bacon I hate like a l'urk or a Persian ; Such dainties to them their health it may hurt, It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting al.

1 See the letters that passed between his royal shirt.

highness Henry duke of Cumberland, and

lady Grosvenor----120 , 1760. Lord Clare's nepbew. VOL, XVI.

K k


[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

So there I sat stuck like a horse in a pound, 1 Our dean 3 shall be ven'son, just fresh from the While the bacon and liver went merrily round :

plains ;

(brains; But what vex'd me most, was that d-'d Scottish Our Burke 3 shall be tongue, with the gardish of rogue,

(his brogue: Our Wille shall be wild fowl, of excellent fiarour; With his long-winded speeches, his smiles, and And Dick S with his pepper shall heighten the saAnd, “Madam,” quoth he, “ may this bit be

vour: A prettier dinner I never set eyes on ;{my poison, Our Cumberland's 6 sweet-bread its place shall Pray a slice of your liver, tho' may I be curst

obtain; But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst." And Douglass ? is pudding, substantial and plain: " The tripe," quoth the Jew, with his chocolate Our Garrick's a sallad; for in him we see cheek,

Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree: I conld dine on this tripe seven days in a week : To make out the dinner, full certain I am I like these here dinners so pretty and small; That Ridge 9 is anchovy,and Reynolds le is lamb; But your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at That Hickey's " a capon; and, by the same rule, all."

(a trice, Magnanimous Goldsmith, a gooseberry fool. “()-ho!" quoth my friend," he'll come on in At a dinner su various, at such a repast, He's keeping a corner for something that's nice : Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last? There's a pasty'-"A pasty !" repeated the Jew; Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm “I dont care if I keep a corner for't too."

able, “ What the de'il mon, a pasty !” re-echo'd the Till all my companions sink under the table; Scot;

(that." Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my “ Though splitting, I'll still keep a corver for

head, “ We'll all keep a corner," the lady cried out; Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead. “ We'll all keep a corner," was echo'd about. Here lies the good dean, re-united to earth, While thus we resolvil, and the pasty delay'd, Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid;

with mirth: A visage so sad, and so pale with affright,

If he had any faults, he has left us in donbt, Wakd Priam in drawing his curtains by night. At least in six weeks I could not find them out; But we quickly found out (for who could mistake Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be denied her?)


'em, That she came with some terrible news from the That sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em. And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven

Here lies our good Edmund, whose geojus Fas Had shut out the pasty on shutting bis oven.

such, Sad Philomel thus-but let similes drop

We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; And now that I think on't the story may stop. Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour mis- And to party gave up what was meant for manplac'd,


(his throat To send such good verses to one of your taste. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining You've got an odd something--a kind of discein To persuade Tommy Townshend i: to lend him a


[Gining, A relish-- a taste-sicken'd over by learning; Who, too deep for bis hearers, still went on reAt least it's your temper, as very well known, And thought of convincing, while they thought That you tivink very slightly of all that's your own:

Though equal to all things, for all things unfit; So, perhaps, in your babits of thinking amiss, Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a mit; You may make a mistake, and think slightly of

where the doctor, and the friends he has charac, terised in this poem, occasionally dined.

> Dr. Barnard, dean of Derry in Ireland. RETALIATIO.V.

3 Mr. Edmund Burke. A POEM.

4 Mr. William Burke, late secretary to ge.

neral Conway, aur member for Bedwin. FIRST PRINTED IN THE YEAR 1774,

s Mr. Richard Burke, collector of Grenada. AFTER THE AUTHOR'S DEATH.

6 Mr. Richard Cumberland, author of the West Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occa

Indian, Fashionable Lover, The Brothers, and sionally dined at the St. James's coflee-honse.

other dramatic pieces.

7 Dr. Douglas, the late bishop of Salisbury, One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person, furnished sub

who has no less distinguished himself as a citizen

of the world, than a sound critic, in detecting jects of witticism. He was called on for Retaliation, and at their next meeting produced the fol

several literary mistakes (or rather forgeries) of

his countrymen ; particulurly Lauder on Milton, lowing poem.

and Bower's History of the Popes. Ofold, when Scarron his companions invited, 8 David Garrick, esg. Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was 9 Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belong. united.

(fish, lips to the Irish bar. "If our landlord' supplies us with beef and with Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the "An eminent attorney. best dish :

11 Mr. T. Townshend, member for Whiteburch. ! The master of St. James's coffee-house

of dining;




[ocr errors]

For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient ; | Macpherson 16 write bombast, and call it a style; And too fond of the right to pursue the expe- | Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall dient.


[over, In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. No countryman living their tricks to discover; Here lies bonest William, whose heart was a ) Detection her taper shall quench oa spark, mint,

swas in't; | And Scotchman meet Scotchman,an cheat in the While the owner ne'er knew half the good that

dark. The pupil of impulse, it forc'd him along,

Here lies David Garrick, describe bim who His conduct still right, with his argument wrong;

can, Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,

An abridgement of all that was pleasant in man : The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove As an actor, confest without rival to shine; home;

none; | As a wit, if not first, in the very first line! Would you ask for his merits? alas ! he had l Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent What was good was spuntaneous, his faults were

heart, his own.

The man had his failings-a dupe to his art. Here lies honest Richard 13, whose fate I must Like an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread, sigh at;

And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural Alas! that such frolic should now be so guiet:

red. What spirits were his! what wit and what whim, On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting ; Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb! 'Twas only that when he was off he was acting. Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the With no reason ou earth to go out of his way,

He turn'd and he varied fuil ten times a day: Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all! Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly In short, so provoking a devil was Dick,

sick That we wish'd him full teu times a day at old If they were not his own by finessing and trick:

He cast off his friends, as a luuntsman his pack, But, missing his nirth and agreeable vein, For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle As often we wish'd to have Dick back again.

them back. Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, 1 Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, The Terence of England, the mender of hearts;

And the puff of a dunce be mistook it for fame; A fiatt'ring painter, who made it his care

Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.

Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. His gallants are all faultless, his women divine,

But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, And Comedy wonders at being so fine:

If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. Like a tragedy queeu he has dizen'd her out,

Ye Kerricks, ye Kellys, 's and Woodfalls") so Or rather like Tragedy giving a rout,


(you gave! His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd

What a commerce was your's, while you get and Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud;

How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you And coxcombs, alike in their failings, alone,


(praisa Adopting his portraits, are pleas'd with their

While he was be-Roscius'd, and you were bes

But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, own. Say, where has our poet this malady caught?

To act as an angel and mix with the skies: Or wherefore his characters thus withoat fault?

Those poets who owe their best faipe to his skill Say, was it that vainly directing tis view

Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will: To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,

Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself. And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above. Here Douglas retires from his toi! s to relax,

Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt pleasant The scourge of impostures, the terror of quacks:

creature, Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking di

di And slander itself miistallow him good-nature; vines,


He cherish'd his friend, and he relishd a bumper; Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant

Yet one fault he had, and that one was a When satire and censure encircled bis throne;

thumper. I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own:

Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? But now be is gone, and we want a detector,

| I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser: Our Dodds 14 shall be pious, our Kenricks is shall

Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat? lecture;

His very worst foe can't accuse him of that: | Perhaps he contded in men as they go,

And so was too foolishly honest ? Ah no! 13 Mr. Richard Burke. This gentleman har. ing slightly fractured one of his arms and legs, 16 James Macpherson, esq. who lately, from at different times, the doctor has rallied him on the mere force of his style, wrote down the first those accidents, as a kind of retributive justice

poet of all antiquity. for breaking his jests upon other people,

27 Mr. Hugb Kelly, author of False Delicacy, 14 The rev. Dr. Dodd.

Word to the Wise, Clementina, School for Wives, is Dr. Kenrick, who read lectures at the Devil

&c. &c. tarern, under the title of The School of Shake 18 Ms. W. Woodfall, printer of the Morning speare,


« EelmineJätka »