said the Fidler: I like to see harmony restored. D'ye tho'; you like to see harmony restored! Why, then, here's to you, Mr. Wiggins, &c. A BEGGAR I am, and of low degree, For I'm come of a begging family. I'm lame; but when in a fighting bout, My music, the bell of my little dog. I'm hung with bags, A bag for my malt, A bag for the leg of a goose; For my oats a bag, For my groats a bag, 1 And a bottle to hold my boose. It's now heaven bless you for your charity: .down AT A T Symond's-Inn I sip my tea, Tax the costs, or put in bail. / Speaks.] O! it's a clear case, Sir; the defendant's a married woman, pleads her coverture; you'd better not go on; your client will have all the costs to pay.-Will he? dem'me, if mine don't, yours shall! that's all. Sings.] With sham plea and misnomer; Clausum fregit, Non elegit; Ad satisfaciendum, et respondendum. Should a client ask advice, I make him pay For all I say, So I'm sure to be the winner. Speaks.] Sir, you've certainly merits; I'll speak to Mr. Shark, the plaintiff's attorney.-Pray, Sir, did you knock my client's eye out? No, Sir; we plead a justification to the assault;—then, Sir, we must go to trial. Sings.] With sham plea, &c. For plaintiff or defendant, Speaks.] Lord, Sir, only a few extra costs, such as the master won't allow: poor devils of clients pay the piper. Rattling down in post-chaise to the assizes; hackney-coaches to Westminster-hall; my gig on a Sunday; counsel's fees, tavern-bills, and travelling expenses. Sings.] With sham plea, &c. FOR England, when, with favʼring gale, And scudding under easy sail, The high blue western land appear'd; To heave the lead the seamen sprung, And to the pilot cheerly sung, By the deep NINE! And bearing up to gain the port, And as the much-lov'd shore we near, Of faith and love a matchless proof: Quarter less FIVE! FLOW LOW thou regal purple stream, In my goblet sparkling rise, My brain ascend on Fancy's wing, 'Noint me, wine, a jovial king! My brain ascend on Fancy's wing, 'Noint me, wine, a jovial king! My brain ascend on Fancy's wing, 'Noint me, wine, a jovial king! A jovial king! a jovial king! a jovial king! While I live, I'll lave my clay; A month he reign'd, but that was May! When I'm dead, and gone away, A month he reign'd, but that was May: A month he reign'd, but that was May! ARIADNE ARIADNE one morning to Theseus was turn, ing, When missing her man, to the beach down she flew; Her cries unavailing, she saw far off sailing, His ship, 'fore the wind, less'ning swift to her view, She tore her fine hair, beat her breast in despair; Spread her arms to the skies, and sunk down in a swoon; When Bacchus, 'inidst æther, begg'd leave of his father To comfort the Lady.-Jove granted the boon, Then gently descending, her sorrows befriending, His thyrsus he struck 'gainst the big-belly'd earth, When o'er the smooth gravel, in murm❜ring travel, A spring of Champaign at her head bubbled forth. She wak'd with the scent, gave her sorrows fresh vent: Yet to drink she determin'd, exhausted by tears : She tastes the Champaign-licks her lips-tastes again, And feels herself suddenly freed from her fears. As still she kept sipping, her heart lightly leaping, She look'd upon Thes. as a pitiful elf; Wine turn'd her to singing, in hopes it would bring in A lover 'twas lonely to drink by herself. The god, her adorer, confess'd stood before her; She hail'd the celestial, she welcom'd the guest: Champaign stopp'd resistance, she kept not her distance, But jollily clasp'd the young buck to her breast. Each |