Skill so prodigious Bobby too admired, "I saw the shells lie underneath the bed." So wise by such a lesson grown, And to the self-same sufferer paid his court; And to his master made this dread report :— "Why, sir, we ne'er can keep this patient under, "A horse!" the elder man of physic cried, "How! think not in my duty I was idle; "Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed, "And there I saw a Saddle and a Bridle!" THE DRUNKEN SAILORS. A parson once, of Methodistic race, With band new stiffen'd, and with lengthen'd face, In long-drawn tones, his friends below address'd; His reverence twigg'd them-baited fresh his trap- This poor pew-opener, though thinking right, "Come and be saved, ye fallen sons of Adam !"— Words like these, utter'd in a sailor's note, Soon reach'd the man in black, who preach'd by rote; Told the amen-man what to say and do-- Goes to the sailors to do as he was bid; Out hauls his 'bacco-box, with "De, take a quid! "What cheer, my thundering bucks! how are ye all? "Come in, my lads, and give your sins an over-haul!" The sailors roll'd their quids, and turn'd their eyes, And view'd their benefactor with surprise; Swore he was a hearty fellow-"Dn their souls ;" His reverence preach'd, and groan'd, and preach'd [again! The plan succeeding, which they had concerted- BREVIS ESSE LABORO. On Folly's lips eternal tattlings dwell; THE DRUNKARD'S SOLILOQUY. Well, here I am, just come out of the pub-pub-public (hiccup) house; I've only drank nine glasses of brandy and water, and I am as drunk as a p-p-parson. Talking of a parson, reminds me of the devil; and talking of the devil, reminds me of my wife-(hiccup)—for she'll kick up a devil of a row. Well, if she blows me up, why I must blow her up-no, I won't, for talking of blowing up, reminds me of raising the wind; so I'll tell her I have been at half price to the play-(hiccup) then she'll say, to what part; and if I say, to the boxes, she'll swear I had an intrigue or I would not have gone there; then I won't say to the boxes, I'll say to the pit; no, egad if I say to the pit, she'll wish me in the bottomless pit, and as I don't like such wit, I'll tell her I was in the gallery; aye, the gallery, there's the rub-(hiccup) no, it is not the rub, for she'll give me a rub there, and say, I should not have gone into the gallery if I respected the pride of her family. Ha, ha, ha! if her father wasn't a tripe man; he sold cat's meat(calling) "Cat's meat! cat's meat!" No, no, I'll go home and tell her I'm sober--(hiccup)—there's nothing like telling truth and shaming the devil! I'll tell her the truth, and nothing but the truth. Oh Lord, oh Lord! oh, here's a post. What a delicate constitution I have, I really can't touch spirits: why, nine glasses of brandy and water, that is nine shillings, and ten pipes, that's ten shillings and nine pence, and two pence the waiter, is twelve shillings and a penny-that's rightWell, this small quantity of liquor has made me sick, but I defy the devil to make me drunk. I'm a complete philosopher, for when I've had enough, I always know it; and no one can beat me at calculation if I sit up till midnight, for I have always cool reason on my side, and I can-(hiccup)-Hollo, what the devil are you? speak, or I'll knock you down; (strikes) who are you speak, or I'll—(hiccup)—I'll, I'll—(goes up to a pump) Why, zounds, it's a pump-if it isn't, may I be pumped upon! I've been frightened by a pump; ha, ha! Well, if ever a sober man was more deceived, may I h hanged! But I'll go home and go to bed, and I'll say to my wife- (hiccup)-I wish I could get a drop of something for the hiccups, and she'll say, What's o'clock you brute?' And I'll look at my watch and I'll say(hiccup) I can't see, and if she blows me up I'll singHere am I, a jolly dog, As sober as can be ; And there's my wife, a surly hog, So I will sing, and dance, and drink, Although upon my soul think, Tol de rol, &c. My head will ache to-morrow. THE FORSAKEN. It was a winter's evening, and fast came down the snow, And keenly o'er the wide heath the searching blast did blow, When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewildered on her way, But crueler than all, the lad that left my love for gold. TO CUPID. Of all the plagues of mortal life- Compared with thee, O Cupid Knight, I'm not a brainsick bard, to raise Then breathe a thousand piteous lays, But this I'll swear :-if e'er poor wight These three last weeks thou'st crack'd me quite, I swear by Jove. The time hath been, when I could stray In loving June, or flow'ry May, And meet fine ladies on my way, With heart full light, Nor heed them farther on the way, But now in every lass's eyes I see such witching pictures rise; As reason's cautious power defies, Now hear, thou peacc-destroying knave! For hence, I swear by all that's grave, |