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and publishing thefe Tales; but we can fafely aver, that they are full of cbfcenity, whether "evidently defigned" or not: and apparently calculated to "inflame the paffions."

Something of this Writer's ideas of decorum may poffibly be gathered from the following Stanzas, which we quote as a fpecimen of his Poetry; being fome of thofe few verfes in this collection of ribaldry, which will bear our citation.

How oft has Boccace been tranflated

And blunder'd;

And Jean Fontaine affaffinated,

And plunder'd?

Where is the land where Boccace and Fontaine
Have not in effigy been flain?

Fontaine they imitate and turn.

Boccace they represent and render,
Juft as the figures made to burn,
Are like the Pope and the Pretender.
Why mayn't Bandello have a rap?
Why mayn't I imitate Bandello?
There never was a Prelate's cap
Bestow'd
upon a droller fellow.

Like Triftram, in mirth delighting;
Like Triftram, a pleasant Writer;
Like his, I hope, that Triftram's writing
Will be rewarded with a mitre.

The Author of Triftram Shandy is doubtless much obliged to this Writer, who could find no other good quality in him, to entitle him to a Bishoprick, than his pleasantry: it is certainly a pleasant reafon for his promotion; and, if it takes, we may no doubt expect to fee reverence and gravity exchanged for mirth and drollery, and a Houfe of Convocation refemble Comus's Court. It may be prefumed alfo that the whole bench of Bishops will change their titles, and be less formally addreffed, as the Right jocular Fathers in Fun, &c. When this revolution happens, alío, which our Author perhaps may think a change devoutly to be wifhed, it cannot be fuppofed but that he himself, if already a Divine, or inclined to enter into holy orders, will, for the fame good reason, be invested with a higher dignity than even his friend Triftram. For if he, who knew how to intimate his ideas imperfectly by afterifms, be promoted to a mitre, certainly the confummate genius, who is capable of expreffing himself on the most delicate occafion, in plain German, cannot hope for lefs than to be promoted to the metropolitan fee.

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But to be ferious. We have no objection to innocent mirth, nor to any writings calculated with decency to promote good humour and chearfulness; holding hypocrify in as utter deteftation as our Author. But we cannot agree to call the very loose and indecent freedoms he has taken, a ludicrous liberty, neceffary to any good, or even innocent purpofe. He has one advantage, however, over most other Writers that fall under the cenfure of our Review, and that is, we are generally able to bring proofs, from their Writings, of the truth of what we affert; whereas we muft, in the prefent cafe, defire our own word to be implicitly taken, in justification of our cenfure, being abfolutely too much afhamed for the Writer, and having too much refpect for our Readers, to ftain our paper with the neceffary proofs to fupport it.

Our Author has thought proper to give this paultry Publication a pompous form, and to ufurp the negligent and felffufficient air and ftyle of a mafter, in talking about critics and their cenfures. But if it be true that want of decency argues want of sense, and we fee no reafon in this performance to think the contrary, these airs of fuperiority and importance are all affectation. We know not, indeed, any tronger characteristic of unmanliness and folly, than a perfon's indulging himself in obfcenity, either in writing or conversation.

Those of our Readers, who may ever happen to read these abominable Tales, will not be furprized that we have been led to treat the Writer with feverity, and his Work with the indignation and contempt it deferves.

K-n-k

The first Volume of a new Tranflation of Homer's Iliad, adapted to the Capacity of honeft English Roast Beef and Pudding Eaters. By Cauftic Barebones a broken Apothecary. To which is prefixed, fome fmall Account of the abovefaid Mr. Barebones himself. 12mo. 2s. 6d. fewed. Marriner.

MR.

R. Barebones is a Genius, in the current fense of the word; a ftar of the first magnitude in the Shandean Conftellation. If we may credit his own ftory, he was formerly an Apothecary, but had too much honefty and humanity to thrive by the Gally-pot; and confequently broke. In thefe fad circumftances, remembering how kind the stars had been to Triftram, he determines to dig in the bottom of the Shandean

* Real Name. Bridges.

Shandean mine; and, in the fame manner, to try whether by throwing up dirt he could not come at gold. Sore afraid we are, however, on the account of poor Mr. Barebones, that this mine is now exhausted; or, if not, that it is difficult for a new adventurer to hit upon the right vein. Nay, it would be inhuman not to fympathize with this unhappy Skeleton, when we have his own unquestionable word for it, that he was ruined by the integrity and fimplicity of his heart. None of those arts did he practife by which his brethren of the mortar thrive; no mixture of chalk and water did he vend for pearl-julep, nor fought he to be in emlonpoint himself, by emaciating his patients. Long did he ftruggle to live upon thefe generous principles, but alas!

-What could Cato do against a world,

A bafe degenerate world?

At laft he fell, pitiably fell, and was reduced to beggary.-What now was to be done? To live with every virtue in a depraved age, was impoffible; and yet to eat, was abfolutely neceffary: Mr. Barebones therefore determines to give up the inferior virtues, and accordingly Modefty and Decency are here facrificed at the fhrine of Hunger. O cruel dilemma! O ever to be lamented facrifice! Our hearts bleed within us while we think of this good, this virtuous man, bringing with reluctance those beautiful victims to the altar of that voracious Savage. Behold the danger of once deviating from the path of virtue! The honeft, the worthy Mr. Barebones is now become the lowest and most obfcene of all human creatures. The Gods and Heroes of Homer, in the language of this Apothecary, might teach fcurrility to Water-men; and the dialect of his mortal and immortal Ladies, would raise a blush on the boldeft cheek in Covent-Garden.

If we mistake not, this Author has before now smarted under our critical rod; with fuch low virulence has he befpattered us in the account of his life.-No abuse, however, from Mr. Barebones fhall change our pity into refentment. We moft fincerely with him that dinner which he declares he wants; and that we may help him to one or two more than he could otherwife procure, we fhall make the following favourable quotations from his book.

The interpofition of Pallas between Agamemnon and Achilles, in the first book, is thus comically tranflated:

Had you but feen Achilles fret it,

I think you never could forget it.

A fight fo dreadful ne'er was seen,
He weat for very rage and fpleen:
Long was he balanc'd at both ends,
When reafon mounted, rage defcends;
The laft commanded, Sword lug out;
The first advis'd him not to do't.
With half-drawn weapon fierce he stood,
Eager to let the General blood;
When Pallas, fwift defcending down,
Hit him a knock upon the crown:
Then roar'd as loud as fhe could yelp,
Lugging his ears, 'Tis I, you whelp.
Pelides wonder'd who could be
So bold, and turn'd about to fee.
He knew the brightness of her eyes,
And loud as he could bawl, he cries,
Goddess of Wisdom! pray what weather
Has blown your goat-skin doublet hither?
Howe'er thou com'ft quite opportune,
To fee how bafely I'm run down;
Thou com'ft most a propos incog.
To fee how I will trim this Dog:
For by this rufty blade, his life
Or mine shall end this furious ftrife.
To whom, reply'd the blue-ey'd Pallas,
I come to fave thee from the gallows;
Thou'rt furely either mad or drunk,
To threaten murder for a punk :
Prithee now, let this paffion cool,
For once be guided by a Fool:
I flew like lightning from above,
Thy dreadful fury to remove;
For white-arm'd Juno bid me fay,
Let Reaton now thy paffion sway,
And
angry be another day.

As droll and farcical is Jove's reply to the request of Thetis, in the fame book.

Then anfwers he who rolls the thunder,
I'm much amaz'd, and greatly wonder,
That you fhould thus attempt, with tears,
To fet my Rib and me by th' ears;
This, by my foul! will make rare work!
Juno will rate me like a Turk.

You furely know, and have known long,
The D-I cannot match her tongue;
To Troy, I'm fure, I wish full well,
She ne'er forgets that tale to tell:

But

But get you gone, left she should fee;
Your fuit, depend, fhall granted be.
With head (obferve) I'll give a nod,
That cannot be revers'd, by G-d:
The Thunderer then his noddle shakes,
And Greece, like city-cuftard, quakes.
Thetis, well pleas'd the Greeks to fouse,
Dives under water like a goofe.

As Jupiter gueffed, fo it happened; Juno falls upon him with all the virulence of tongue, and roafts him in the language of a genuine modern spouse.

'Tis mighty civil, on my life,

To keep all fecrets from your Wife:
Is this the method, Mr. Jove,

You take to fhew your Wife your love?
Pray, who's that brimftone-looking Quean,
With whom you whifpering was feen?
Perhaps your'e fet fome fecret task,
And I'm impertinent to ask.

Is there a Wife 'tween here and Styx,

Like me would bear your whoring tricks?
But goodman Royster! I'd have you know,
Tho' you are Jove, I ftill am Juno!

Thus Mr. Barebones improves upon the fimilies of his Au

thor:

As when a bonfire, with a noise,
Is kindled by the parish boys;
It catches firft the ftraw, then rushes,
And feizes on the dry furze bushes ;
Which caufes fuch a dev'lish glaring,
That half the fools i'th' town ftand staring.
Juft fo the Grecians' polish'd shields
Darted a glaring round the fields.
For noife and order to the fight

They look'd like wild geefe in their flight;
Who, as they light upon the ground,
With gabbling make the air refound.

Thus num'rous and confus'd they seem,
Before they reach'd Scamander's stream:
And, as they haften'd to the shore,
They made the very Welkin roar.
Thick as the flowers adorn the land
Upon the river's bank they ftand;
Or, thick as leaves upon the trees,
Before they feel th' Autumnal breeze;
Or fwarms of flies that find a crop
Of fugar in a Grocer's fhop.

Agamemnon's

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