The Infant and the Nurse,' by Child; and there's a View of Vauxhall;

The Savage Tiger tamed,' by Wilde-the Pugilists,' by Boxall.

"Just hand me o'er the Catalogue: Why, who can this be! heyday!”

The Portrait of a Gentleman,”—the Portrait of a

Lady.'

The 'Chandler's Shop,' by G. Whitewick; it isn't worth a farthing;

The Head of Lady Thynne,' by Thick,-the Soft Repose,' by Harding.

"The 'Cinder Hole,' by Mrs. Cole; the 'Broken Branch,' by Ramus;

And here again,

The Toothache,' Payne-I think

this picture famous.

The Old Lame Beggar,' drawn by Stump, who looks so fat and comely;

The Deer,' by Buck; Sir Simon Crump,' and 'Beck'nham Church,' by Bromley.

"To look all through, will never do, one's brains it only bothers,

You'd better far look over some, and overlook the

others.

My dear Eliza, only see; I know that face, I'm certain

Who's that young lady drawn by?-Shee-and 'Master Betty'-Martin."

SCENE. A STREET.

Enter SIR ANDREW, dreadfully fatigued.

Sir A. Ah me! how I've been running through the

town,

I'm quite knock'd up-a fly could knock me down.

How hot it is! [Wiping his face] I feel so very faint, I'm pretty sure I'm going-[Recovering] No I ain't. Where can I rest? I wish I hadn't run ;

I'm nearly famished-stop! I've got a bun.

[Takes a bun from his pocket.

Pshaw! 'tis quite stale; avaunt, and quit my sight,

[Throwing away the bun.

Too hard for younger teeth than mine to bite.

Well, here I'll sit-[Sits down on a post]-this is the shady side.

It's monstrous hot! I'm very nearly fried.

Well, let those rail at frost and cold who may,

I hate a hot, oppressive Summer's day;
You can't sit still, you cannot ride or walk,
You cannot eat, you're not inclined to talk.
In doing nothing, doze your time away-
I hate a hot, oppressive Summer's day.

SONG.

AIR-" Be happy to-day."

Folks talk of the weather, and grumble at cold,
Which makes the young shiver, and freezes the old;
But a hot Summer's day, you'll believe my assertion,
If you move but a limb, 'tis a dreadful exertion.

In ev'ry direction you hear people say,
"Oh dear! well, I'm sure, 'tis a very hot day."

You wake in the morning, and open your eyes,
But can't keep them still for the sun and the flies;

Your treat you eat with vat pleasure you IBay,
You see ule utter seep nating ever;
All Ime de nurage de a n be making.
È must be missed. Es z but unter along.
Do put fown the nimi of that wintow. I pray!
Cansuter, my love, is a very but fax.”

You go up to town via your neighbours to mix ;
You're crammi na mai. Icensed Inside for siz!
You beg to go outside, of hope bereft,

When the coachtman repiles.

Not a single place left;"

Then all that you think of, and a that you say,

Is, Ma'am, don't you think it's a dreadful hot day ?"

The clerks in their office do nothing, I fear,

But read the newspapers, and drink ginger beer;

The horses are panting in every street;

You fear ev'ry dog must be mad that you meet :

If you see a lean mongrel, you hasten away— "No wonder they're mad-such a dreadful hot day.”

You sigh for green lanes and a shady retreat;
Then pass by the cook-shops and smell the hot meat.
The rays of the sun for a long time you've stood in,
And can't bear the sight of a smoking plum-pudding.
You feel quite disgusted, and peevishly say,
"How can people eat, such a dreadful hot day?"

You wonder how cooks such hot weather survive;
You envy the ducks, as they swim and they dive.
The water-carts pass to and fro ev'ry minute;

You look at a cart, till you long to be in it ;

And ev'ry one walking seems melting away!

Then what can be worse than a hot Summer's day? [Exit.

SCENE.-Exterior of Sir Andrew's HOUSE.

Enter Adrastus Allfat, musing.

Oh! that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Like tallow candle, and I'd be content!
How weary and unprofitable 'tis to see

This heap of flesh which now encumbers me.

[Molly Muggins looks out of window.

Molly. Adrastus! where-oh, where art thou, my

love?

Adr. [Aside.] I think that's Molly, calling from

above.

Molly. At Molly Muggins cast but one kind look!

Where can he be?

Adr. [Looking up.] Here-here I am, sweet cook! Molly. I'll let you in at six o'clock to-night.

Adr. Is six the hour?—I'll be there.

Molly.

That's right.

[The window is closed.

I