HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense; I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.

My pride forbids it ever should be said,

My heels eclips'd the honours of

my head; That I found humour in a pyeball vest, Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. [Takes off his mask

Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth?
Nature disowns, and reason scorns thy mirth,
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps,
The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps.
How hast thou fill'd the scene with all thy brood,
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd!
Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses,
Whose only plot it is to break our noses;

Whilst from below the trap-door Dæmons rise,
And from above the dangling deities;
And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew?
May rosin'd-lightning blast me, if I do!
No-I will act, I'll vindicate the stage:
Shakspeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.
Off! off! vile trappings! a new passion reigns!
The madd'ning monarch revels in my veins.
Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme:
Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!-soft
-'twas but a dream.

Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating,
If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.

"Twas thus that Æsop's stag, a creature blameless, Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless, Once on the margin of a fountain stood,

And cavill'd at his image in the flood.

"The deuce confound," he cries, "these drumstick

66

"shanks,

They never have my gratitude nor thanks;

“They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead! "But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head.

"How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow! "My horns!-I'm told horns are the fashion now." Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd, to his view,

Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew: Hoicks! hark forward! came thund'ring from be

hind,

He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind:

He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways;
He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.
At length his silly head, so priz'd before,

Is taught his former folly to deplore ;
Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free,
And at one bound he saves himself, like me.

[Taking a jump through the stage-door.

THE

LOGICIANS REFUTED.

IN

IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT.

LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd
As rational the human mind;
Reason, they say, belongs to man,
But let them prove it if they can.
Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius,

By ratiocinations specious,

Have strove to prove with great precision,

With definition and division,

Homo est ratione preditum ;

But for my soul I cannot credit 'em.
And must in spite of them maintain,

That man and all his ways are vain;
And that this boasted lord of nature
Is both a weak and erring creature.
That instinct is a surer guide,

Than reason, boasting mortals' pride;

And that brute beasts are far before 'em,

Deus est anima brutorum.

Who ever knew an honest brute

At law his neighbour prosecute,
Bring action for assault and battery,

Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?
O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd,

No politics disturb their mind;

They eat their meals, and take their sport,

Nor know who's in or out at court;

They never to the levee go

To treat as dearest friend, a foe;
They never importune his Grace,
Nor ever cringe to men in place;
Nor undertake a dirty job,
Nor draw the quill to write for Bob:
Fraught with invective they ne'er go
To folks at Pater-Noster Row:
No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,
No pickpockets, or poetasters,
Are known to honest quadrupeds,
No single brute his fellows leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each others throats for
Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape,
Like man he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling passion;
But both in malice and grimaces,
A courtier any ape surpasses.

pay.