Here ill-condition'd oranges abound- [Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground:

[Tasting them. The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear: I heard a hissing—there are serpents here! 0, there the people are-best keep my distance; Our captain (gentle natives) craves assistance; Our ship’s well stor'd-in yonder creek we've laid

His honour is no mercenary trader.
This is bis first adventure, lend him aid :
And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from

Equally fit for gallantry and war.
What, no reply to promises so ample?
-I'd best step back, and order up a sample.


Spoken by





HOLDI prompter, hold! a word before your

nonsense; I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience, My pride forbids it ever should be said, My heels eclips'd the honours of my head;

That I found humour in a piebald vest,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest.

[Takes off his mask.
Whence and what art thou, visionary birth?
Nature disowns, and reason scorns, thy mirth;
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps,
The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps.
How hast thou fill’d the scene with all thy brood,
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd !
Whose ins and puts no ray of sense discloses ;
Whose only plot it is to break our noses;
Whilst from below the trap.door demons rise,
And from above the dangling deities.
And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew ?
May rosin'd lightning blast me, if I do!
No,I will act, I'll vindicate the stage :
Shakespeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.
Off, off, vile trappings! a new passion reigns !
The madd’ning monarch revels in my veins.
Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme :
Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!

soft-twas but a dream.' Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no re

treating : If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating. 'Twas thus that Æsop's stag, a creature blameless, Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless, Once on the margin of a fountain stood, And cavil'd at his image in the flood. "The deuce confound,' he cries,' these drum-stick

shanks, They neither have my gratitude nor thanks : They're perfectly disgraceful ! strike me dead! But for a head,-yes, yes, I have a head. How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow! My horns! I'm told horns are the fashion now.'

Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd to his view,
Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen

drew, Hoicks! hark forward! came thund'ring from be

hind; He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind: He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze. At length his silly head, so priz'd before, Is taught his former folly to deplore; Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, And at one bound he saves himself, like me.

[Taking a jump through the stage door.




WHAT! five.long acts--and all to make us wiser !

Our authoress, sure, has wanted an adviser. Had she consulted me, she should have made Her moral play a speaking masquerade; Warm'd up each bustling scene, and in her rage Have emptied all the green room on the stage. My life on't, this had kept her play from sinking; Have pleas’d our eyes, and sav'd the pain of thinking.' Well, since she thus has showu her want of skill, What if I give a masquerade?-I will.

But how?-ay, there's the rub! [pausing]—I've got my cue:


The world's a masquerade; the masquers, you, you. [To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery, Lud! what a groupe the motley scene discloses! False wit, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses!

Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em,
Patriots in party-colour'd suits that ride 'em.
There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more
To raise a flame in Cupids of threescore.
These in their turn, with appetites as keen,
Deserting fifty, fatten on fifteen.

Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon,
Flings down her sampler, and takes up the woman;
The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure,
And tries to kill, ere she's got power to cure.
Thus 'tis with all-their chief and constant care.
Is, to seem every thing but what they are.

Yon broad, bold, angry spark I fix my eye on,
Who seems t' have robb'd his vizor from the lion;
Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round

Looking, as who should say, Dam'me! who's afraid? [Mimicking.

Strip but this vizor off, and sure I am
You'll find his lionship a very lamb.
Yon politician, famous in debate,
Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, bestrides the state;
Yet, when he deigns his real shape t' assume,
He turns old woman, and bestrides a broom.
Yon patriot too, who presses on your sight,
And seems, to every gazer, all in white,

If with a bribe his candour you attack,

He bows, turns round, and, whip-the man's in black!

Yon critic too-but wbither do I run?
If I proceed, our bard will be undone.
Well, then, a truce, since she requests it too:
Do you spare her, and I'll for once spare you.



GOOD people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song ;
And if you find it wondrous short,

It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man,

Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,

Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,

To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,

When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends;

But when a piqne began,
The dog, to gain his private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.

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