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And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be, Both mungrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.
But when a pique began,
Went mad and bit the man.
The wond'ring neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man. The wound it seem'd both sore and sad, To every
christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they ly’d; The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that dy'd.
WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom-is to die.
IN BOW-STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
Expressive of my duty.
My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
The gift who slights the giver?
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give-and let 'em. If gems, or gold, impart a joy,
I'll give them—when I get 'em.
I'll give but not the full blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion ;
A transitory passion.
I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere than civil :
I'll give thee-to the devil.
This tomb inscrib'd to gentle PARNELL's namac,
COMEDY OF THE SISTERS.
What? five long acts and all to make us wiser!
up each bustling scene, and in her rage,
But how ? ay, there's the rub! [fausing]----I've got.
my cue : The world's a masquerade! the masquers, you, yoll, you.
[To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery. Lud! what a group the motley scene discloses ! False wits, false wives, falsc 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, fasten 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 parade,
| Mimicking. Looking, as who should say, dam'me! who's afraid? 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
attack, He bows, turns round, and whip--the inan in black ! Yon critic, too but whither do I run ? If I proceed, our bard will be undone ! Well then a truce, since she requests it too : Po you spare her, and I'll for once spare yot.
SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY AND MISS CATLEY:
Enter Mrs. Bulkley, who curtsies very low as beginning
to speak. Then enter Miss Catley, who stands full before her, and curtsies to the Audience.
Mrs. BULKLEY. HOLD Ma'am, your pardon. What's your business here?
Miss CATLEY. The Epilogue.
Mrs. BULKLEY. The Epilogue ?
Miss CATLET. Yes, the Epilogue, my dear.
Mrs. BULKLEY. The House-Agreed.