No benefice she ever sold,

Nor did dispense with sin for gold;
She hardly is a fortnight old,

And yet she is a Pope.

No king her feet did ever kiss,

Or had from her worse looks than this;

Nor did she ever hope

To saint one with a rope

And yet she is a Pope.

"A female Pope! you'll say,"-a second Joan; No, sure—she is Pope Innocent, or none.

THE LAWYERS.

Two lawyers, when a knotty case was o'er,
Shook hands, and were as fast friends as before.
"Zounds!" says the losing client, how comes yaw
To be such good friends, who were such foes just

naw?"

"Thou fool," said one,

keen,

66

we lawyers, though so

Like shears, ne'er cut ourselves, but—what's be

tween."

ON LOVE.

Love, like a meteor, shews a short liv'd blaze,
Or threads through various skies a wandering maze;
Begot by fancy, and by fancy led,

Here, in a moment-in another fled ;

But fix'd by obligations, it will last;

For gratitude's the charm that binds it fast.

ON A PICTURE.

Given by Henry IV. to the Chevalier de Aubigny, who had done him essential services.

Behold how services by kings are paid!

They take in substance, and they give in shade.

LOVE AND MARRIAGE.

'Tis sweet to have the women court one,
Or fair, or brown, or large, or small;
But silly he who weds a short one-
And wiser he, who, never a-tall.

HALF A WIFE.

When Thomas calls his wife his half,
I like the fellow's whim,

For why she horns him; so the jilt
Belongs but half to him.

THE LIAR.

Such a liar is Ned, there is none can lie faster, Excepting his maid,—and she'll lie with her master.

PROCRASTINATION IN LOVE.

"I love you"-oft the youth did say,
"I love you"-oft the maiden sigh'd,
Thus echoed both from day to day,

'Till one wax'd cold, and t'other-died.

GRACE BEFORE DINNER.

Some can't eat when they have meat,
And some would eat, but want it;
Now we have meat, and we can eat,
And so the Lord be thanked.

*

ON STEPHEN KEMBLE'S REPRESENTATION OF

SHYLOCK.

When Stephen Kemble acts the Jew,
He gives us traits entirely new;
For 'tis an avarice rare and fresh
In him, to want " a pound of flesh!"

A MISER'S RICHES.

Richard Flecknoe addressed the following lines to a miser. Money's like muck, that's profitable while 'T' serves for manuring of some fruitful soil; But on a barren one, like thee, methinks, 'Tis like a dunghill that lies still and stinks.

INFLUENCE OF THE WEATHER.

"This rain," says Dick, "will raise the corn,
And every thing to life;"
No, God forbid !" cries Ralph,

66

I lately lost my wife.

THE PHYSICIANS.

66 you know

A single doctor, like a sculler plies,
And all his art, and all his Physic tries :-
But two physicians, like a pair of oars,
Conduct you soonest to the Stygian shores.

ON A CORNELIAN HEART WHICH WAS BROKEN. Ill-fated heart! and can it be

That thou should'st thus be rent in twain ; Have years of care for thine and thee,

Alike been all employed in vain ?

* Being the most bulky man that ever trod the English stage.

Yet precious seems each shatter'd part,
And every fragment dearer grown,
Since he who wears thee, feels thou art
A fitter emblem of his own.

THE SLEEPING WATCHMAN.

Sound sleeps yon guardian of the night,
The hours uncall'd-youth rests not sweeter ;
"I thought he was a watch"-" you're right-
But a stop watch, not a repeater.

TO AN OLD COQUETTE.

Ah! poor old Phillis, strive to wound no more,
Thy days of execution long are o'er :

With those dim eyes to try to pierce a heart,
Is threat'ning with a bow without a dart.

Peter Pindar.

GOOD TEMPER IN WOMEN.

(A Simile.)

Serene and mild, we view the evening air,
The pleasing picture of the smiling fair:
A thousand charms our several senses meet,
Cooling the breeze with fragrant odours sweet.
But sudden, if the sable clouds deform
The azure sky, I dread the coming storm;
Hasty we flee, 'ere yet the thunder roar;
And dread what we so much admired before.

TO A FRIEND WHO HAD MARRIED A

CROOKED WOMAN,

The God of love,

Well pleased to prove

On asking a Gentleman how long he would love her.

It is not, Celia, in our power

To say how long our love shall last;
It may be, we, within this hour,

May lose those joys we now do taste;
The blessed that immortal be,
From change in love are only free.

Then, since we mortal lovers are,

Ask not how long our love shall last, But, while it does, let us take care, Each minute be with pleasure past: Were it not madness to deny

To live, because we're sure to die!

THE EASY HUSBAND.

Cornelius knows his ugly wife,
Has fortified his head;
But, to avoid domestic strife,
He's silent as the dead.

In this he's surely not to blame;
Why make a needless fuss!
Henceforward, therefore, be his name
Cornelius Tacitus.

D. A. O'M.

C