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My fan ! let others say, who laugh at toil;
Fan! hood! glove! scarf! is her laconic style;
And that is spoke with such a dying fall,
That Betty rather sees, than hears the call:
The motion of her lips, and meaning eye,
Piece out th' idea her faint words deny.
O listen with attention most profound !
Her voice is but the shadow of a sound.
And help, oh help! her spirits are so dead,
One hand scarce lifts the other to her head.
If there a stubborn pin it triumphs o'er,
She pants! she sinks away! and is no more.
Let the robust and the gigantic carve,
Life is not worth so much, she'd rather starve:
But chew she must herself! ah cruel fate !
That Rosalinda can't by proxy eat.

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THALESTRIS triumphs in a manly mien;
Loud is her accent, and her phrase obscene.
In fair and open dealing where's the shame?
What nature dares to give, she dares to name.
This honest fellow is sincere and plain,
And justly gives the jealous husband pain.
(Vain is the task to petticoats assign'd,
If wanton language shows a naked mind.)
And now and then, to grace her eloquence,
An oath supplies the vacancies of sense.

Hark! the shrill notes transpierce the yielding air,
And teach the neighbouring echoes how to swear.
By Jove, is faint, and for the simple swain;
She, on the Christian system, is profane.
But though the volley rattles in your ear,
Believe her dress, she's not a grenadier.
If thunder's awful, how much more our dread,
When Jove deputes a lady in his stead ?
A lady? pardon my mistaken pen,
A shameless woman is the worst of men.


BORN 1715.-DIED 1765.

DR. BROWN, author of the tragedies of Athelstan and Barbarossa, and of several other works, was born at Rothbury, in Northumberland, where his father was curate.

He studied at Cambridge, obtained a minor canonry and lectureship in the cathedral of Carlisle, and was afterwards preferred to the living of Morland, in Westmorland. The latter office he resigned in disgust at being rebuked for an accidental omission of the Athanasian creed. He remained for some years in obscurity at Carlisle, till the year of the rebellion, when he distinguished himself by his intrepidity as a volunteer at the siege of the castle. His Essay on Satire introduced him to Warburton, who exhorted him to write his Remarks on Shaftesbury's Characteristics, as well as to at tempt an epic poem on the plan which Pope had sketched. Through Warburton's influence he obtained the rectory of Horkesly, near Colchester; but his fate was to be embroiled with his patrons, and having quarrelled with those who had given him the living in Essex, he was obliged to retire upon the vicarage of St. Nicholas, at Newcastle. A latent taint of derangement had certainly made him vain and capricious; but Warburton seems not to have been a delicate doctor to his mind's disease. In one of his letters he says,

6 Brown is here, “ rather perter than ordinary, but no wiser. You “ cannot imagine how tender they are all of his “tender places, and with how unfeeling a hand I probe them.The writer of this humane sentence was one whom Brown had praised in his Estimate as the Gulliver and Colossus of a degenerate age. When his Barbarossa came out, it appears that some friends, equally tender with the Bishop of Gloucester, reproved him for having any connexion with players. The players were not much kinder to his sore feelings. Garrick offended him deeply by a line in the prologue which he composed for his Barbarossa, alluding to its author, “Let the poor devil eat-allow him that."

His poetry never obtained, nor indeed deserved much attention; but his « Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times" passed through seven editions, and threw the nation into a temporary ferment. Voltaire alleges that it roused the English from lethargy by the imputation of degeneracy, and made them put forth a vigour that proved victorious in the war with France. Dr. Brown was preparing to accept of an invitation from the Empress of Russia to superintend her public plans of educa. tion, when he was seized with a fit of lunacy, and put a period to his own existence.



Selim, the son of the deceased Prince of Algiers, admitted in

disguise into the palace of the usurper Barbarossa, and meeting with Othman, his secret friend..

Persons.Barbarossa, Selim, Othman.
Bar. Most welcome, Othman.
Behold this gallant stranger. He hath done

The state good service. Let some high reward
Await him, such as may o'erpay his zeal.
Conduct him to the queen: for he hath news
Worthy her ear, from her departed son;
Such as may win her love-Come, Aladin ;
The banquet waits our presence : festal joy
Laughs in the mantling goblet; and the night,
Illumined by the taper's dazzling beam,
Rivals departed day. [Exeunt BAR. and ALAS

Selim. What anxious thought
Rolls in thine eye, and heaves thy labouring breast?
Why join'st thou not the loud excess of joy,
That riots through the palace ?

Oth. Dar'st thou tell me
On what dark errand thou art here?

Selim. I dare.
Dost not perceive the savage lines of blood
Deform my visage? Read'st not in mine eye
Remorseless fury?-I am Selim's murderer.

Oth. Selim's murderer!

Selim. Start not from me. My dagger thirsts not but for regal blood Why this amazement? Oth. Amazement !-No-'Tis well—'Tis as it

should be He was, indeed, a foe to Barbarossa.

Selim. And therefore to Algiers:~Was it not so ? Why dost thou pause? What passion shakes thy

frame? Oth. Fate, do thy worst! I can no more dis

semble ! Can I, unmoved, behold the murdering ruffian, Smeared with my prince's blood !-Go, tell the

tyrant, Othman defies his power; that, tired with life, He dares his bloody hand, and pleads to die.

Selim. What! didst thou love this Selim ?

Oth. All men loved him. He was of such unmixed and blameless quality, That envy, at his praise, stood mute, nor dared To sully his fair name! Remorseless tyrant ! Selim. I do commend thy faith. And since thou

lov'st him, I have deceived this tyrant Barbarossa : Selim is yet alive.

Oth. Alive!

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