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Lest some thu' elsewhere should still sit on thorns, .
While cuckolds here have room to spread their horas;
By me his Lordship hon’rably declares,
He'll pay his tradesmen their respective shares,
If these will send in honest, clear accounts,
And fairly state to what each bill amounts.
Thus B******re performs a noble part,
And what some here I hope will learn by heart;
A character displays on W**g**e stage,
But seldom seen in this degen’rate age.



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To the Company at Hari owgate in the Summer, 1801, upon closing the Theatre there for the Season, and

written for Miss De C.s Benefit.

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10-night, nur season ended, give me leave
T'express those thanks with which our bosoms heave:
But chiefly mine, who feel to-night that glow,
Which from a grateful mind can only flow. ,
That debt of Gratitude now fills my heart,
And tho' the whole I cannot, I'll pay part.
Supposing then each bere, like me, a Play'r,
For you I offer up this fervent pray'r;
May all you, acting on the stage of life,
As brother, husband, mother, daughter, wife
So well perform, that at death's awful hour
No poignant sorrow may life's chalice sour;
May you, ye Belles, who Harrowgate adorn,
Gather the flow'r of joy without the thorn;

Nor hasty pluck à flow'r, where'er it grows, For fear you get the nettle, not the rose.' If then your minds on marriage are intent, Remember well this word, “repent, repent.' . . To you, mamas, I give this short advice, For I have known mamas by much too nice; ! Let not ambitious views direct your aim, And make your daughter wed, to get a name, Whether she feel or not love's sacred Aame. Let wealth nor title be your only guide, These of themselves can't make the happy bride ; But hark! some mother says, whence all this knowledge, Sure that pert Miss was brought up at a College, A girl so wise she surely ne'er could be, Unless she added to her name B. D. You quiz me, madam, but I'll quiz again, 'Tis a fair shot to try to hit the men, Those lordly men, who thinking us fair game, Shoot at the women's hearts with love's unerring aim. "Tis now the season too, September time, Would birds were shot at only in my rhyme. B. D. implies in that great College, whence I had my knowledge, a great want of sense.

It means not learning, but a want of that,
A head that's only fit to wear a hat.
B, D. Dunce Bachelor, the first degree,
Next L. L. D. a greater Dunce than he ;
Last D. D. Doctor Dunce, with wig and cane,
Cf these, and D. D. not a little vain,
Joking apart, should any swell with bile
At the bold freedom of my muse's style,
To them I now, as M. D. give advice,
Probatum est, and cures them in a trice.

Of this fam'a spring three glasses take, but stop, - M. D. must not forget the bolus shop.

Yet ah! from those wry faces which I see,
Methinks I've dos'd you well without a fee;
Your vessels plethorick, your stomachs full,
With rerşes rough, satyrical and dull,
You seem to say, good Doctor do pray cease,
And give your tir'd out muse a little peace ;
A hint's enough, so now I'll bid adieu
To mamas, misses, and kind men to you;
Yet to all thankful, when this house I see,
The Doctor must confess, he has his fee.




The following Stanzas were written on being favored with a sight of that Lady's uncommonly elegant


W HEN gentle Lillystone, with matchless skill,

On her chaste canvass some fair form pourtrays, What secret transports in the bosom thrill,

How lost in wonder we admiring gaze,

So finely animate her pencil'd bust,

We, starting, think the canvass teems with life, In rapt'rous bliss delusive senses trust,

And claim the lovely image for a wife.

With stretch'd out arms arrest the peerless fair,

To shew our fondness by a close embrace; When ah! the form untangible as air,

Our grasp eludes, and keeps its destin'd place.


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