Part 12 (1/2)

'Not one of all my actors, rot 'em!'

Cried Hal,--'can play the part of Bottom.'

”Play it yourself;”--retorted Ned,-- ”You'll look quite natural with an a.s.s's head.”

ON SEEING MR. NUTES, A SENSELESS, UNFEELING FELLOW, WEEP AT THE REPRESENTATION OF KING LEAR.

Henceforth at miracles who'll dare to mock?

No wonder Orpheus' lyre could move the brutes, Or Moses' rod strike water from the rock; Lo! Shakspeare's genius melts the heart of Nutes, Draws tears of pity from a barber's block!

A quack, a mere anatomy, Wanting to buy a nag, Questions his friend, a wag, What colour it shall be:-- 'White,' he replies, 'let it be white, of course, For then you'll look like Death on the pale horse.'

ON THE LATE REFORM AND THE WHIG ADMINISTRATION.

Reform! reform! cries out the longing nation;-- The people hail their own-elected House; On tiptoe stands the general expectation:-- What the grand doings of the Administration?

Lo! from the labouring mountain creeps a mouse!

Metaphysical Sages Have writ many pages, To decide if the Mind Be Spirit or Matter:-- How strange! that in the pages Of these metaphysical sages We so seldom can find Mind, Spirit, or Matter!

TO A CONCEITED & AFFECTED, BUT HANDSOME WOMAN.

Why, when I praise you, Ma'am, why tell me flat, All flattery you despise?-- Self-love, the greatest flatterer, tells you that, And I am sure he lies.

What a strong contrast to most modern sages Were some philosophers of ancient ages!

E'en Socrates, so wise, yet modest too, Own'd he knew only that he nothing knew.

Now! vain pretenders such presumption show, They seem to fancy that they all things know.

Ye moderns, thus puff'd up with vanity, Would that ye knew but half as much as he!

ON TWO SISTERS WHO ARE ALWAYS QUARRELLING.

Pale is Amelia's face, And red Lavinia's nose is; The sisters ever jar: 'Tis like the civil war Between the rival roses.

On that dark theme, man's genealogy, How strangely people's notions disagree!-- Sir Snub-nose, growling, swears that he can trace Strong kindred likeness to the monkey-race:-- My Lady Graceful smiles, well-pleased, to find Far more resemblance to the Angelic-kind:-- Sure the reflection from their looking-gla.s.ses Into their minds,--to prompt opinion--pa.s.ses.

Would-be philosophers have tried to scan The pedigree of that odd creature, man.

'We are of monkey-race!' Sir Snub-nose cries.