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Undertook to decide on this weighty affair ;
drowncd.' The audience were struck with a world of surprise To find that a fool could give counsel so wise. The judges themselves the sentence espoused, And freely consented that John should be soused.
John finding that matters had took a wrong turn, Not waiting to see if the court would adjourn, Sneaked out of the house, with a hiss of disgrace, In dread lest the sentence should quickly take place, Grown pliant at last, his cause he withdrew-His plea was so bad and his friends were so few; It was needless, he thought on the cast of a die To venture bis life for the sake of an eye. And concluded 'twas better to give up the suit, Than risk the one left, and be smothered to boot.
THE MONKEY, WHO SHAVED HIMSELF
AND HIS FRIENDS.
It chanc'd, in shop the dog and cat,
Nor yet was tird, our roguish elf:
Drew razor swift as he could pull it,
Who cannot write, yet handle pens, Are apt to hurt themselves and friends, Tho’ others use them well, yet fools Should never meddle with edge-tools.
THE SPORTSMAN IN STYLE.
(DIBDIN.) Don't you see that as how. I'm a sportsman in
style, All so kickislı so slim and so tall: Why I've search'd after game, and that many's the
mile, And seed no bit of nothing at all: My license I pockets, my pony I strides,
And I pelts through the wind and the rain ; And if likely to fall, sticks the spurs in the sides,
Leaves the bridle, and holds by the mane, To be sure dad at home kicks up no little strife, But daddy what's that, en't it fashion and life? At sporting I never was known for to lag,
I was always in danger the first; When at Epping last Easter they turn'dout the stag
I'm the lad that was roll'd in the dust.
There a little beyond Dulwich Common,
And two mudlarks, besides an old woman ; Then let miserly dad kick up sorrow and strife, I'm the lad that's genteel, and knows fashion and
But don't go for to think I neglects number one-
Often when my companions with ardour,
and I hunts in the larder:
Or finds puss as she sits under cover, Then soho to the barrel to start me some ale,
And when I have dined, and fed Rover, Pays my landloril's shot, as I ogles his wife, While the daughter cries out--lord! what fashion
and life! Then I buys me some garne, all as homeward we
jog, And when the folks ax how I got 'em, Tho’I shooted but once, and then kill'd the poor dog
I swears, and then stands to 't, that I shot'em. So come round me ye sportsmen, that's smart and
what not, All stylish and cutting a flash; When your piece won't kill game charg'd with
powder and shot, To bring 'em down, down with your caslı; And if with their jokes and their jeers folks are rife, Why dabby, says you, e’nt it fashion and life?
THERE liv'd as fame reports, in days of yore,
A pleasant wight on town, yclep'd Tom King,
In short, for strokes of humour, quite the thing. To many a jovial club this King was known, With whom bis active wit unrivall'd shone...
Choice spirit, grave free-mason, buck and blood, Would croad, his stories and bon mots to hear, And none a disappointment e'er could fear,
His humour flow'd in such a copious flood.
Careless how prudence on the sport might frown.
Nor left the game till he had run it down. One night, our hero, rambling with a friend, Near fam'd St. Giles's chanc'd his course to bend,
Just by that spot, the Seven Dials height; 'Twas silence all around and clear the coast, The watch, as usual dozing on his post,
And scarce a lamp display'd a twinkling light. Around this place, there liv'd the num'rous clans Of honest, plodding, foreign artizans,
Known at that time by the name of refugeesThe rod of persecution, from their home, Compellid the inoffensive race to roam, And here they lighted like a swarm of bees. Well! our two friends were saunt'ring through the
street, In hopes some food for humour soon to meet,
When, in a window near, a light they view; And, though a dim and melancholy ray, It seem'd the prologue to some merry play,
So tow'rds the gloomy dome our hero drew. Strait at the door he gave a thund'ring knock, (The time we may suppose near two o'clock)
• I'll ask,' says King. 'if Thompson lodges here'-• Thompson." cries t'other, who the devil's he?" 1 krow not,' King replies, but want to see What kind of animal will now appear.'