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fins of a dying turtle [mimicks him]-'pon my word, sir, 'twill never do. Pray, sir, are you of any profession?

Dowlas. Yes, sir, a linen draper.

Patent. A linen draper! an excellent business: a very good business-you'll get more by that than by playing; you had better mind your thrums and your shop, and don't pester me any more with your Richard and your-za, za, za,—this is a genius! plague upon such geniuses, I say.

ANON.

LOVE OF THE WORLD DETECTED.

THUS

says the prophet of the Turk,

Good Mussulman, abstain from pork;
There is a part in every swine

No friend or follower of mine
May taste, whatever his inclination,
On pain of excommunication.
Such Mahomet's mysterious charge,
And thus he left the point at large.
Had he the sinful part expressed,
They might with safety eat the rest;
But for one piece they thought it hard
From the whole hog to be debarred;
And set their wit at work to find
What joint the prophet had in mind
Much controversy straight arose,
These chose the back, the belly those;
By some 'tis confidently said

He meant not to forbid the head;
While others at that doctrine rail,
And piously prefer the tail.

Thus conscience freed from every clog,
Mahometans eat up the hog.

You laugh-'tis well-the tale applied
May make you laugh on t' other side.

Renounce the world-the preacher cries:
We do a multitude replies.

While one, as innocent, regards

A snug and friendly game of cards:

And one, whatever you may say,
Can see no evil in a play;

Some love a concert or a race;

And others shooting, and the chase.
Reviled and loved, renounced and followed
Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallowed;
Each thinks his neighbour makes too free
Yet likes a slice as well as he;

With sophistry their sauce they sweeten,
Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten.

TOBY TOSSPOT.

ALAS! what pity 'tis that regularity
Like Isaac Shove's, is such a rarity.

But there are swilling wights in London town
Term'd-jolly dogs-choice spirits-alias swine,
Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down,
Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine.

These spendthrifts, who life's pleasures thus run on,
Dozing with headaches till the afternoon,

Lose half men's regular estate of sun,
By borrowing too largely of the moon.

One of this kidney-Toby Tosspot hight-
Was coming from the Bedford, late at night:
And being Bacchi plenus-full of wine-
Although he had a tolerable notion
Of aiming at progressive motion,
'Twasn't direct-'twas serpentine.

COWPER.

He worked with sinuosities along,

Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming through a cork,

Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong, a fork.

At length, with near four bottles in his pate,

IIe saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate,
When reading, "Please to ring the bell,"
And being civil beyond measure,
"Ring it!" says Toby-"very well;
I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure.”

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He waited full two minutes more; and then
Says Toby, "If he's deaf, I'm not to blame,
I'll pull it for the gentleman again."

But the first peal woke Isaac, in a fright,
Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head,
Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed,

Pale as a parsnip-bolt upright.

At length, he wisely to himself doth say
Calming his fears-

"Tush! 'tis some fool las rung and run away;"
When peal the second rattled in his ears!

Shove jump'd into the middle of the floor;

And, trembling at each breath of air that stirr'd, IIe groped down stairs, and open'd the street-door, While Toby was performing peal the third.

Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant

And saw he was a strapper· - stout and tall;
Then put his question-" Pray, sir, what d'ye want?"
Says Toby-" I want nothing, sir, at all.”

*Want nothing! sir, you've pull'd my bell, I vow

As if you'd jerk it off the wire."

Quoth Toby-gravely making him a bow,

"I pull'd it, sir, at your desire."

"At mine!". 66
'Yes, your's; I hope I've done it well:
High time for bed, sir; I was hastening to it;
But if you write up—‘Please to ring the bell,
Common politeness makes me stop and do it."

COLMAN.

LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.

WHO has e'er been in London, that overgrown place,
Has seen "Lodgings to let" stare him full in the face:
Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known,
Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.

WILL WADDLE, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only;

But Will was so fat, he appear'd like a tun;
Or like two single gentlemen roll'd into one.

He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated;
But, all the night long, he felt fever'd and heated;
And, though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep,
Ile was not, by any means, heavy to sleep.

Next night 'twas the same!

and the next!—and the next!

Ile perspired like an ox; he was nervous, and vex'd.
Week pass'd after week, till, by weekly succession,
His weakly condition was pass all expression.

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him!
For his skin, like a lady's loose gown, hung about him!

So he sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny,

"I've lost many pounds-make me well-there's a guinea!"

The doctor looked wise;—" A slow fever,” he said;

Prescribed sudorifics—and going to bed.

"Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will, "are humbugs! I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs!"

Will kicked out, the doctor:-but when ill indeed,
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed;
So, calling his host, he said-" Sir, do you know,
I'm the fat single gentleman, six months ago?"

"Look ye, landlord, I think," argued Will, with a grin,
“That with honest intentions you first took me in:
But from the first night—and to say it I'm bold—
I've been so very hot, that I'm sure I've caught cold!”

Quoth the Landlord-" Till now, I ne'er had a dispute;
I've let lodgings ten years-I'm a baker to boot;
In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven;
And your bed is immediately-over my oven.”

"The oven!" says Will,-says the host, "Why this passion? In that excellent bed died three people of fashion! Why so crusty, good sir?" "S'death!" cried Will, in a taking, "Who would not be crusty, with half a year's baking?"

Will paid for his rooms.-Cried the host, with a sneer,

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Well, I see you have been going away half a year." Friend, we can't well agree; yet no quarrel—” Will said;"But I'd rather not perish while you make your bread."

COLMAN.

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