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Spoken by Mr. Kingi
AC H year how many Engliíh visit France,

To learn the language, or to learn to dance !
Twixt Dover-cliffs and Calais, in July,
Observe how thick the birds of passage fly!
Fair-weather fops in swarms, fresh-water failors,
Cooks, mantua-makers, milliners, and tailors !
Our bard too made a crip; and, land’rers say,
Brought home, among some more run-goods, a plays
Here, on this quay, prepar’d.tunload his cargo,
If on the freigbt you lay not an embargo.
What! am I branded for a smuggler?" cries.
Our little Bayes, with anger in his eyes.
“ No. English poets, English Merchants made,
56 To the whole world of letters fairly trade :
" With the rich stores of antient Rome and Greecegi
Imported disty-free, may fill their piece:
Or, like Columbus, cross th' Atlantick ocean,
“ And set Peru and Mexico in motion ;
* Turn Cherokees and Catabaws to thape;
so Or sail for wit and humour to the Cape.”

Is there a weaver here from Spitalfields ?
To his award our author fairly yields.
The pattern, he allows, is not quite new,
And he imports the raw materials too.
Come whence they will, from Lyonts, Genoa, Rome,
'Tis English filk when wrought in English loom.
Silk! he recants and owns, with lowly mind,
His manufacture is a coasser kind.
Be it drab; drugget, flann-l, doyley, frie e,
Rug, or whatever winter-wear you ple isegi
So it have leave to rank in any clafs,
Pronounce it Englijb Stuff, and let it pass!

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C. L Ε Μ Ε Ν Τ Ι Ν Α.

By G. COLMAN, Esq.

Spoken by Mrs. Yates.
ROM Otway's and immortal Sbakespeare's page

Venice is grown familiar to our stage.
Here the Rinlto often has display'd
At once a bridge, a street, and mart of trade;
Here, treason threat'ning to lay Venice Hat,
Grave candle-snuffers oft in Senate sat.

To-night in Venice we have plac'd our scene,
Where I have been-liv'd-died-as you have seen.
Yet, that my travels I may not disgrace,
Let me-fince now reviv'd-describe the place!
Nor wou'd the Tour of Europe prove our shame,
Cou'd every Macaroni do the same,

The City's felf--a wonder, all agree.
Appears to spring, like Venus, from the sea,
Founded on piles, it rises from the itrand,
Like Triile plac'd upon a silver stand :
While many a le fer ise the prospect crowns,
Looking like sugar-plums, or foating towns.

Horses and mules ne'er pace the narrow street,
Where crouded walkers elbow all they meet:
No carts and coaches o'er the pavement clatter ;
Ladies, Priests, Lawyers, Nobles,-go by water :
Light boats and gondolas transport them all,
Like one eternal party to Vauxhall.

Now hey for merriment !-hence grief and fear!
The jolly Carnival leads in the year;
Calls the young Loves and Pleasures to its aid;
A three months jubilce and masquerade!
With gaiety the throng'd piazza glows,
Mountebanks, jugglers, boxers, puppet-shows :
Mask'd and disguild the ladies meet their sparks,
While Venus hails the mummers of St. Mark's.
There holy friars turn gallants, and there too
Nuns yield to all the frailtics!! Flesh is heir to."


There dear Ridottos constantly delight,
And sweet Harmonic Meetings ev'ry night!

Once in each year the Dogę ascends his barge, Fine as a London Mayor's, and thrice as large ; Throws a huge ring of gold into the sea, And cries — Thus We, thy Sou'reign, marry thee. 6. Oh may'st thou ne'er, like inany a mortal spouse, 66. Prove full of storms, and faithless to thy vows !"

One word of politics and then I've done-
The state of Venice Nobles rule alone.
Thrice happy Britain, where with equal hand
Three well.pois’d states unite to rule the land !
Thus in the theatre, as well as state,
Three ranks mul join to make us bless'd and great.
King, Lords, and Commons, o'er the nation fit;
Pit, Box, and Gallery, rule the realms of wit.



то THE:
Written and Spoken by Mr. Foote.
OR Wit's keen Satire, and this laughing Stage,

What theme so fruitful as a Bankrupt age?
For not confin'd to Commerce is the curse,
The Head is near as empty as the Purse.
Equally funk, our Credit and our Wit,
Nor is the Sage more solvent than the Cit:
All these ;--but soft, ere thus abroad we roam,
Were it not prudent first to look at home?
You, gentle Sirs, have giv'n me credit long,
And took my word for many an idle Song:
But if exhausted, I give notes to-day
For Wit and Humour which I cannot pay, ,
I must turn Bankrupt too, and hop away ;
Unless, indeed, I modestly apply
For leave to sell my Works - by Lottery ;
Tho' few will favour where's no Cash to fee 'em ;
Poor hopes, that way, to part with my MUSEUM!


My old friend. Smirk, indeed, may lend his aid,
And fell hy Auction all my Stock in Trade ;
His placid features, and imploring eye,
May tempt, perhaps, the tardy Town to buy;
His winning manner, and his soft address,
To other Sales of mine have giv’n success;
But after all, my ever honour'd friends,
On you alone my fate this night depends.
I've fought some battles, gain'd some viet'ries here,
And little thought a Culprit to appear
Before this House ; but if refolv'd you go
To find me guilty, or to make me lo,
To grant me neither Wit; nor Talte, nor Sense,
Vain were my Plea, and useless my Defence:
But still I need not steal, I will not beg,
Tho' I've a passport in this wooden leg;
But to my cot contentedly retire,
And stew my cabbage by my only fire."
Mean time, great Sirs, my sentence yet unknown,
E’en as your Justice be your Candour shewn,
And when you touch my honour, don't forget your own.

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PRO L ( G. UE...

то THE

Spoken by Mr. WOODWARD.
RESH from the Schools, behold an Oxford Smarty is

* No Dupe to Science, no dull Slave of Art;
As to our Dress, faith, Ladies, to say truth,
It is a little aukward and uncouth ;
But after all, my ever-honour'd friends,


fate this night depends.
I've fought some battles, gain’d some viet'ries here,
And little thought a Culprit to appear;
No sword, cockade, to lure you to our arms
Büt then, this fiky tassel has it's charms;
What mortal Oxford Laundress can withstand
This, and the graces of a well-ftarch'd band?
In this array, our Spark, with whining air,
Boldly accosts the froth compeijing Fair ;


Fast by the tub, with folded arms he stands,
And sees his furplice whiten in her hands;
And as she dives in o the soapy floods,
Wishes almost-himself were in the suds. .

Sometimes the car he drives impetuous on,
Cut, lash, and flash, a very Phaethon ;
Swift as the fiery Coursess of the Sun,
Up hill and down, his raw-bon'd Hackneys run,
Leaying, with heat half dead, and dust half blind,
Turppikes and bawling Holls behind.. ,

You think, perhaps, we read - perhaps we may,
The News, a Pamphlet, or the lait new Play;
But for the Scribblers of th’ Augustan age,
Horace, and such queer mortals--not a page;
His brilliant sterling Wit we juftly hold,
More brilliant far, transform’d to sterling Gold :
Though Euclid we digest without much pain,
And solve his Problems-into brisk Champaigne.
Fir’d with this juice—why, let the Proctor come ;
“ Young men, 'tis late-it's time you were at home.”
66. Zounds! are you here, we cry, with your dull rules,
" Like Banquo's Ghost, to push us from our fools ?

Such are the studies Smarts pursue at College ; Oh! we are great Proficients in such knowledge. But now, no more from classic fields to glean, The Muse to Covent-Garden shifts the Scene: There shall I enter next, fans Cap and Gown, And play my part on this great Stage, ibe Town.

(Bórving, and going, returnie Soft ge; a word or two before I go; Our Piece is call’d a Comedy you know; A two-act Comedy! though Rome enacts, That ev'ry Comedy be just five Aets. Hence Parent Dullness, the vain title begs, For fqualling, dancing monsters on five legs. The Bantling of to-night, if rear'd by you, Shall run, like men and women,' upon two.


ROM Stratford arrivid-piping hot-gentlefolksyo F From the rarest of Ihows and most wonderful jokes,


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