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Then having made a hearty meal,
He careless turn'd upon his heel,
Nor thought of asking "What's to pay?"
But scamper'd at his ease away;
Perhaps to find some four-foot fair,
And tell the story of the hare.

And here some sage, with moral spleen, may say, "This Haman should have driv'n the dog away, "Th' effects of vice the blameless should not bear, "And folks that are not drunkards lose their hare."

All this, we grant, is very true-
But in this giddy world how few
To virtue's heights sublimely move,
Relinquishing the things they love.

Not so unfashionably good,
Our waggish painter laughing stood,
In hopes more sport to find:
Dispos'd to keep in view his game,
And with th' ambitious Thane exclaim,
"The greatest is behind."

Besides, he knew, whate'er the plan
That tempts the fond pursuits of man,
Though pleasure may the course attend,
The wise are heedful of the end.

Hence, though of mirth a lucky store,
So aptly tumbled in his way,
Yet still he linger'd after more,

And thus he said, or seem'd to say :

"How will the people fret and scold,
"When they the bony wreck behold!
"And how the dranken rogue will stare,
"When first he sees what was the hare!

"The denoument must needs be droll-
""Twere folly not to see the whole."
Presuming thus on future pleasure,

Haman kept post to wait the sleeper's leisure.
At length our porter's slumbers' o'er,
He jogg'd on tott'ring as before;
Unconscious any body, kind,

Had eas'd him in his load behind.
Now on the houses turn'd his eye,
As if his journey's end was nigh,
Then read a paper in his hand,
And made a stand-

Haman drew near, with eager mien,
To mark the closing of the scene,
Expecting straight a furious din,
His features ready for a grin,

And now we need but mention one thing more,
To shew how well he must have lik'd the whim,

Tho' drunk, our porter hit at last the door,
And Haman found the hare was sent to him.

THE JEWESS AND HER SON.

PINDAR.

POOR Mistress Levi had a luckless son,
Who rushing to obtain the foremost seat,
In imitation of th' ambitious great,
High from the gall'ry, ere the play begun,
He fell all plump into the pit,
Dead in a minute as a nit:

In short, he broke his pretty Hebrew neck;
Indeed, and very dreadful was the wreck!

The mother was distracted, raving, wild;

Shriek'd, tore her hair, embrac'd and kiss'd her child;

T

Afflicted ev'ry heart with grief around.
Soon as the shower of tears was somewhat past,
And moderately calm, the hysteric blast,

She cast about her eyes in thought profound;
And being with a saving knowledge bless'd,
She thus the play-house manager address'd;

"Sher, I am de móder of de poor Chew lad,
"Dat meet mishfarten here so bad-
"Sher, I mus haf de shilling back, you know,
"As Moses haf nat see de show.

THE RAZOR SELLER.

PINDAR.

A FELLOW, in a market town,
Most musically cried razors up and down,
And offer'd twelve for eighteen-pence;
Which certainly seem'd wonderous cheap,.
And, for the money, quite a heap,

As every man would buy,-with cash and sense.

A country bumpkin the great offer heard:
Poor Hodge, who suffer'd by a broad black beard
That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his uose,
With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he paid,
And proudly to himself, in whispers, said,
"This rascal stole the razors, I suppose :

No matter if the fellow be a knave, "Provided that the razors shave:

"It certainly will be a monstrous prize." So home the clown with his good fortune went, Smiling, in heart and soul content,

And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes.

Being well lather'd from a dish or tub,
Hodge now began with grinning face to grub,
Just like a hedger cutting furze;

'Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he tried

All were impostors

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Ah," Hodge sigh'd,

"I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse."

In vain to chase his beard, and bring the Graces,
He cut, and dug, and winc'd, and stamp'd, and

swore,

Brought blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd, and made wry faces,

And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o'er.

His muzzle form'd of opposition stuff,
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff;
So kept it-laughing at the steel and suds :
Hodge in a passion stretch'd his angry jaws,
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench'd claws,
On the rank cheat that sold the goods.
"Razors !-a vile, confounded dog,
"Not fit to scrape a hog!"

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Hodge sought the fellow-found him and begun, Perhaps, Master Razor Rogue, to you 'tis fun, "That people flay themselves out of their lives; "You rascal! for an hour have I been grubbing, "Giving my scoundrel whiskers here a scrubbing, "With razors, just like oyster-kaives;

"Sirrah! I tell you you're a knave,

"To cry up razors that can't shave!"

"Friend," quoth the razor-man, " I'm not a knave, "As for the razors you have bought, "Upon my soul I never thought "That they would shave."

"Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wond'ring eyes,

And voice not much unlike an Indian yell;

"What were they made for then, you dog?" he cries. "Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile

to sell!"

MOSES MOUSETRAP.

A TALE.

ANONYMOUS.

SEQUESTER'D in a silent vale
By flow'ry margin'd Dee,
Once dealt the hero of my
A tiny mouse was he.

tale;

Who chose his habitation where
Was much celestial food,

But little of the grosser fare,

That turns to flesh and blood.

His solitary life he led

Within a church unseen!

That he was better taught than fed
There's little doubt, I ween.

Scarce once a year a scanty dole,
With sacrilegious clay,

The starv'ling from the chancel stole,
To satisfy his maw.

For why? few thither went to hear,

The evangelic word;

And fewer more than once a year,

To banquet with the Lord.

Yet oft the godly vicar toil'd,
Unwearied in his station;

As oft, 'twould seem, the devil foil'd
His ghostly ministration.

Heav'n's champion still, the good man strove
To counteract his foe,

And much discours'd of heaven above,

And eke of hell below

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