The Seven Ages of Woman.

A thousand cards a thousand joys extend,
For what may not upon a card depend?
Though justice in the morn claim fifty pounds,
Five hundred won at night may heal the wounds.
Now she'll snatch half a glance at opera, ball,
A meteor trac'd by none, though seen by all;
"Till spousy finds, while anxious to immure her,
A patent coffin only can secure her!

At last the Dowager, in ancient flounces, With snuff and spectacles, this age denounces. And thus she moralizes: (Speaks like an old woman.) "How bold and forward each youug flirt appears; Courtship in my time lasted seven years;

"Now seven little months suffice of course,

"For courting, marrying, scolding, and divorce.
"What with their truss'd up shapes and pantaloons.
"Dress occupies the whole of honey-moons.

"They say we have no souls-but what more odd is,
"Nor men nor women now have any bodies.
"When I was young, my heart was always tender,
"And would to ev'ry spouse I had surrender;

"Their wishes to refuse I never durst-
"And my fourth died as happy as my first."

Truce to such splenetic and rash designs,
And led us mingle candour with our lines.
In all the stages of domestic life,

As child, as sister, parent, friend, and wife,
Woman, the source of every fond employ,
Softens affliction, and enlivens joy.

your

What is your boast, male rulers of the land?
How cold and cheerless all you can command;
Vatn your ambition-vain wealth and power,
Unless kind woman share your raptur'd hour,
Unless, 'midst all the glare of pageant art,
She adds her smile, and triumphs in your heart.

A PARAPHRASE

ON SHAKSPEARE'S SEVEN AGES,

BY G. A. STEVENS.

"All the World's a stage,

“And all the men and women merely players."
Thus Shakspeare said, and what can we say ?
That life is a droll 'twix't a farce and a play,
Where some act extempore, others by rule,

Some sly ones play knaves' parts, but most play the fool-
The fool! and what then?-by the wise it's confest,
He still lives the happiest, who plays the fool best.
Folly waits our wishes, our senses she charms,

From the infant mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
While around her neck the tender bantling clings,
She dandless the baby, and baby-like sings,

(Holding up the flap of his coat, he sings to the tune of
"O my Kitten.")

"Here's papa's nose and features, and here's a Jack-a-dandy; "Givens a blow to beat me, who'll have some sugar-candy; "He'll be a man before his mother, and sho pig, sho, sho, sho, "Hot diddle dumplings hot, and cock-a-doodle doo." "Till tir'd, she clasps the infant to her breast,

Offers the nipple, and the child's at rest,

Thus women and men, who are children grown tall,
When balk'd of their wishes, will squabble and squall,
But their passions indulg'd with their fav'rite diet,
Like children at rest, they sleep and are quiet.
"Then comes the whining SCHOOL BOY."
Suppose me a school boy with lank dangling hair,
My fingers frost nipt, and my face full of fear,
my elbow the usher, my lesson I'm conning,
And horum and harum, I'm thro' the nose droning
"Amo, Amas, Amavi."

At

When I play'd a truant I cry'd out pecavi.

With Greek and with Latin many years the boys mused,
Then put to a calling where neither is used.

Paraphrase on Shakspeare's Seven Ages.

"The next is the LOVER,

Sighing like a furnace, with a woful ballad

"Made to his Mistress' eyebrow.".

Very woful indeed, for love is full of woe,

And sighs and symphonies, Ah! Ah! and Oh! Oh! "Then a SOLDIER,

"Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, "Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation

"Even in the cannon's mouth.”
And now the work of war's begun,
Briton's sons, who long have stood
Victors of the land and flood,
Now to foreign climates roam,
And seek their honor's harvest home,
By valour rous'd they take the wing,
To serve their country and their king.
"Then comes the JUSTICE

"In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd."
Had Shakspeare known what 'twas to eat in taste,
He would have furnished out a finer feast,

Not cramm'd the justice with coarse barn-door food, But lin'd his belly with hog barbacu'd; Then tost him up in haste a turtle hash, With high-sauc'd callipee and callipash; And made his worship call out loud," Here, sirrah, "Hand me a spoonful of that spinal marrow; "Fill me a tumbler, a bumper, I can bear it; "Your health, my Lord-is neat good caret;" Stroaking his belly down, then thus decree, "The callipash is fine, an I so's the call pee. "Come, t'other plate, I've only foul'd a couple, "Two slices save me, sir, of that pine-apple: "Take not that haunch off yet, d'ye hear -a? "Hob a nob, sir,-done-two bumpers of madeira." Thus would he introduce him on the stage, Had Shakspeare liv'd in this taste-eating age.

....

Address on Closing a Theatre.

"The sixth age shifts

"Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
"With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side:
"His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
"For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes

*And whistles in his sound."

Here, nurse, my flannel night-cap, -how-who's there, hey?"

Only the newsman, sir."—" What's that you say? "The King of Prussia, sir, has got the day." "How got to pay? let him come in,-'tis true, "I thought to day I had some interest due." Just on the instant a full-wig'd physician, Whom nurse had told her master's sick condition, Approach'd the elbow chair, where Feeble sat,

?"

Who por'd through spectacles, and cry'd-" Who's that?"
When Don Diploma, with cane-swelling grace,
Grave, putting on secundum artem face,

Stops nurse's answer, and demands his case;
Saying," How do you find yourself, sir?-sound,"
"How bind myself? No, sir, I'll not be bound,
"But on good trust, I'll lend ten thousand pound.
"Here, nurse."-(Coughs.)

Thus with strength exhausted, and with voice outworn,
By nurse is lifted like a babe new born.

Then comes the scene that surely must appal;
He sinks, sinks, sinks to the last scene of all,
Where stands Oblivion with her out-spread veil,
To end this strange, this sad eventful tale:
Hearing, seeing, speaking, feeling, all are gone;
Death drops the curtain-and the droll is done.

ADDRESS ON CLOSING A THEATRE,
As when on closing of a well-spent live,
The parting husband views his faithful wife,
(For life itself is but a gaudy play,

The flutt'ring phantom of a summer's day)

Comic Nautical Address.

With pleasing terror and with trembling haste,
He recollects a thousand raptures past;
And tho' resign'd, and conscious that he must
Delay to mingle with his kindred dust;
So I, while round these seats my sight I bend,
And in each cordial eye behold a friend,
From the fond flowings of a grateful heart,
Cannot refrain to cry-Ah! must we part

?

Your minds, where conscious worth and goodness live,
May paint the boundless thanks we wish to give,
But it's beyond the power of words to tell,

The debt we owe the gratitude we feel,

A COMIC NAUTICAL ADDRESS,

ON OPENING A PROVINCIAL THEATRE.

(Speaking Without.)

Hold! hold! avast, boatswain,-(Te Prompter.)-'ere anchor we weigh,

Permit an old seaman a few words to say.

(Enters.)

What cheer? I hope hearty,—it makes the heart glow
To bid welcome to friends, both aloft and below:
Well, our tackle's all ready, our hands are all staunch,
And with rapture we hail you to witness the launch ;
We've refitted, you see, a snug neat pleasure boat,
And we hope by your favour to keep her afloat.

Each cabin convenient,-(Boxes.)—at least so 'twas plann'd. There's snug births below,-(Pit.)—and our tops are well mann'd, (Gallery.)

Our timbers are taught ;-(Stage.)—some messmates, tho' new, Join with old ones, in claiming protection from you;

Each hand on this deck-(Stage.)-comes with fixed inclination To rise in the service,-by your approbation.