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Rais'd the Fat Knight by his creative brain,
And warm'd the Mummy into life again.

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B. Thou vie with Shakespeare ? Thou Supreme

of Fools!
Thou Prince of Coxcombs! Maker of Brass Rules !
Whose mind no Science lights, no Muse inspires,
But Hunger whets, Pride bloats, and Envy fires :
Hence rumbling, grumbling, made of filth and noiser
Thou scar'f Old Women, Booksellers, and Boys :
Sense ftops the nose, Wit winks, and Fools admire,
While--crack, fiz, bounce !-You in a stink expire.
On Settle, Dennis, Durfey, graft thy Fame,
But blend not with thine own great Shakespeare's

Name !
Trouble the Ghost of honeft Jack no further,
Whom Shakespeare kill'd to stop his future murther!

K. What, if these glories tamely I resign,
Think, Isaac Bff, the fate of thine !
When good Queen Anna rul'd the British land,
Genius and Bff went hand in hand :
Swift, Steele, and Addison, then wore the name,
And made it known to Humour and to Fame.
But Time and Chance that William threw on me,
Have blasted Ifaac Bff in Thee !

On

On what base wretches names may fall at last!
Oh how unlike the present and the past !
Still brewing thy Rhetorical Small-Beer,
Thou serv'st the Town a Kilderkin each year 3
Feed'st, like a Hog, upon Dramatick Grains;
And draw'ft the täplash of another's brains.
Charles Johnson, Parson Miller, with a train
Of Playwrights long forgot in Drury Lane ;
See their last dregs into the Malh-tub caft,
To work up Village Loves, and strengthen Dr. Laft.

More and much more the warring Poets said, When Griffin issued forth from Garrick's Head. End, end your Strife, he cried ; come in, and dine! Mince-pyes invite, plump Turkey, and fat Chine. On Johnson, Goldsmith, Reynolds, vent your rage ; Attack the Arts, Church, Army, Bar or Stage! Join in the Cheer a merry Christmas sends, Write Grub-street Chronicles, and live good Friends!

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AN EXTEMPORE,

ON SETTING OUT FOR BATH.

Dec. 31, 1785.

WHAT! Pally and Gout both at once on my

back? Alas, on a Dwarf what a Giant Attack ! Even comforts themselves as new plagues I endure, When the Palfy's my ill, and the Gout is my cure. Richmond, Dec. 19, 1785.

G. C.

A FRENCH MAXIM IN PROSE.

LA

February 11, 1786. A Marriage est une chose tres serieuse; on ne peut

pas trop penser. Heureux celui qui pense toute fa vie!

IMITATED IN ENGLISH VERSE. “ Wife, or No Wife?"-A serious doubt indeed! We cannot pause too long ere we proceed : Thrice happy He, that ponders on a Wife, Who pauses long, and pauses all his Life!

EPIGRAM

& EPIGRAM FROM MARTIAL:

March 9, 1786.

NOSSES jocosa dulce cum facrum Flora,

Gur in theatrum, Cato fevere, venisti? An ideo tantnm 'veneras, ut exires ?

TRANSLATION.

Knowing the Farce on Flora's Festal Day, Why, rigid Cato, cam'ft thou to the Play ? Foe to the Drama, cam'ft thou to perplex it, Or but to make thy Entrance and thy Exit ?

THE Τ Η Ε

L A U REA T.

Α Ν Ο D Β.

April 11, 1786.

I.

WARTON, I know you'll ne'er repine

That Witlings carp at ev'ry line,
And with your Lyricks quarrel.
Alas! from Party, Spite, or Whim,
Such ever is the fate of Him
Who boasts the Royal Laurel.

II.
That Laurel, once by Dryden worn!
But since by many Dunces borne,

Each rival Dunce cry'd fie on!
The boasted Laurel was they said,
No more than a poor Pss-a-bed,
At Court call's DAUN-DE-LION

III.
For scenes of Comedy renown'd,
And justly for his A&ting crown’d,

The Prince of Fops and Folly;

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