There, too, good lack! between the wheels
Was feen their hapless daughter,
Kicking aloft her lovely heels,

'Midft copious ftreams of porter!

"I've loft my wig," poor Drugget roar'd-
"Your wig! that's nought," cried Mifs;
"Mamma has fpoil'd her bran-new gown,
And I my blue peliffe."

The unlucky chaife went quite to pot,
Old Dobbin, too, was undone;
At great expense a cart they got
To take them back to London.
Arriv'd at home, th' enraged cit,
With words the most uncivil,
Sent horfes, jockies, E O too,
All packing to the devil!

May 25.

SLY-BOOTS.

VERSES ON SIR JL'S COMING OF AGE.

BY THE LATE DR. JOHNSON.

LONG expected one and twenty,
Ling'ring year, at length is flown;
Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty,
Great Sir J, are now your own.
Loofen'd from the minor's tether,
Free to mortgage or to fell,
Wild as wind, and light as feather,
Bid the fons of thrift farewell.

Call the Betfies, Kates, and Jennies,
All the names that banish care;
Lavish of your grandfire's guineas,
Shew the fpirit of an heir.

All that prey on vice or folly,
Joy to see their quarry fly
Here the gamefter light and jolly,
There the lender grave and fly.

Wealth,

Wealth, my lad, was made to wander,
Let it wander as it will;
Call the jockey, call the pander,

Bid them come and take their fill.
When the bonny blade caroufes,
Pockets full and fpirits high,
What are acres? what are houses?
Only dirt, or wet or dry.

Should the guardian, friend, or mother,

Tell the woes of wilful wafte;
Scorn their counsel, fcorn their bother,
You can hang or drown at last.

SONNET BY A DISCIPLE OF THE DELLA CRUSCAN SCHOOL,

HARK

ON AWAKENING IN THE MORNING.

ARK! milk-pails rattle, and the pavement rude
Growls at the preffure of the duftman's cart;
The sweepers, too, their treble yell impart―
Sure tokens all of bufy day renew'd.

Ah, me! I love to fee the bustling throng:
Devoid they feem of care-engend'ring

thought:
May they ne'er know (by ftern misfortune taught)
The woes depreffive* that to me belong!
The beamy god of light, whose matin ray
Illumines them to diligent employ,

Wakes me, alas! from fweet oblivious joy,
With tears and laments ftill to hail the day.
To give my forrow-ftricken breaft repofe,
I'll e'en effay to take another doze.

* Coining is not felony by the law of fonnetry.

THOMAS

THOMAS TYRWHITT JONES, ESQ.'S CELEBRA-
TED SPEECH, &c. &c. ON THE TREATY
OF EL-ARISH.

DELIVERED BY THAT UNPARALLELED PATRIOT AND IN-
COMPARABLE ORATOR IN THE BRITISH HOUSE OF
COMMONS, ON TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 1801.

PARAPHRASTICALLY VERSIFIED BY WHIGAMOUR WHIPSTER, ESQ. L.L. D. PARAPHRAST-GENERAL TO THE WHIG CLUB.

[From the True Briton.]

SI promis'd and vow'd, Mr. Speaker, I rife

To bring forward, on Egypt, my motion fo wife.
Be affur'd, right or wrong, to my text I am staunch,
And, though Pitt at my head his anathemas launch,
There he'll find no impreffion is cafily made:
With "El-Arish" I'll bore him again-who's afraid ?
So to come to the point: what I now fhall propound,
I expect, Sir, to controvert none will be found:
To the Ottoman Porte that Sir Sidney Smith went
As Great Britain's Minifter Plenipotent:
This, firft I lay down as a fact: and, if fo
If the 'forefaid Sir Sid. was indeed plenipo.
He'd a right, Sir, the treaty to make-and, befide,
By the treaty he made we are bound to abide.
(Thefe minors both tread on the heels of my major:
And logic I'll chop with the Houfe for a wager.)
Let Fame then, with blaft everlafting, awake her
Loud trumpet in praife of the hero of Acre !
When the Frenchmen on Egypt agreed to turn tail, he
Had made of that conteft a brilliant finale:

At least you must own all the world and his wife
Thought El-Arith's treaty had ended the strife.
Now you'll find in the motion I make, 't is my with
To difcover who spoilt this fine kettle of fish;
Who his Majefty counfell'd to order Lord Keith
To detain thefe fame Frenchmen in fpite of their teeth;
And fo cut out fresh work for our army and navy :
Thefe ill counfellors, Sir, we must make cry "Peccavi!"
I afcribe it to thofe who of late rul'd the roast,
That the country 's forfworn, like a knight of the poft.

2

Think

A SPEECH ON THE TREATY OF EL-ARISH VERSIFIED.

Think what mifchiefs refult from this grofs violation
Of treaty imprimis, war's continuation;

Hence mufket and bayonet mangle and mar men;
Hence our character 's loft, fituation's alarming;
Embroil'd with the French, by a dreadful fatality,
Here's the devil, befides, of an armed neutrality.
At the Ottoman Porte we fhake hands with the Pagan,
Yet demolish good Chriftians before Copenhagen;
On the Baltic we kick
up a terrible rumpus,

103

And to loggerheads fall at all points of the compass: Pruffia's fovereign, too, with our court keeps no measures, But Hanover feizes, and pockets her treasures.

With the Ruffians you'll find we fhall foon have a brawl, Alexander as fcurvily treats us as Paul.

'Tis as clear as noon-day what they both would be at,
In their late manifeftos each nose smells a rat.

If you ask whence accrue all these ills that I mention,
From the rupture, I fay, of El-Arifh' convention.
Sirs, we're all bought and fold, and must come to the parish,
By this horrible breach of good faith at El-Arifh!
But this is not the worft: fresh calamity 's brew'd;
The confounded ill wind that blows nobody good
Wafts away our beft troops, who to Egypt are gone,
Where the crocodiles fwear they'll eat ev'ry man John.
And this, juft at the moment when great Bonaparte,
Tam Mercurio, gentlemen! famous quam Marte,
Will invade us with both, with fineffe and with weapons,
And defpoil all our fobs of their Birmingham ha'pence.
Then there's Portugal too, which fo oft has been fqueaking,
To the enemy truckles, perhaps, while I'm speaking;
When you might have prevented her hapless furrender,
If you'd only difpatch'd thofe fame troops to defend her.
Alexandria, 't is faid, three French frigates incog.
Have enter'd, with grenadiers freighted and prog.
And if this be a lie, the reporters of courfe meant
To appal us with news of a grand reinforcement;
But, alas! if 't is true, we've no doctors I'm fure,
Our poor men, when thefe grenadiers kill 'em, to cure.
For, furgeons, they fay, in our army are fcarce,
And no wonder, fince there letting blood's but a farce.
Are our forces from India alive, Sirs, and merry ?
Have they pafs'd the Red Sea, or the Stygian Ferry?

Yet,

Yet, I own fuch inquiries as these 't is not fair on

Our new statesmen to prefs-I should question old Charon.
But 't is time to wind up; for you seem, Sirs, in hopes
I've exhaufted my metaphors, figures, and tropes:
Full well I'm for one of Job's comforters known,
Their kind rhetoric mine is, his patience your own:
Yet were Job in this House, he, like you, might look queerish;
I'll return then (from whence I fet out) to " El-Açish;”
And thofe Frenchmen fo gallant, whom Admiral Keith
Repell'd from embarking, in spite of their teeth;
And incontinent move," That an humble address
To his Majefty's hands be prefented express:

And the pray'r on't is this: That he'll vouchfafe to tell us,
His Commons fo faithful, what rafcally fellows
They were. to whose wicked advice he gave ear,
When he issued those orders that cost us so dear,
And commanded Lord Keith to behave in fo bearish
A way to the well-bred Monfieurs at "El-Arish;”
And empow'r us to fend to old Satan a cargo
Of all thofe who promoted this curfed embargos
For no gift we can offer he'll think half so rarish,
As thofe rogues who affronted his friends at "El-Arifh."
Then, in hopes I fhall find our dread Sov'reign according
To this modeft addrefs, I'll tranfmit it to Jordan*,
To be printed and puff'd, for I'm fure he'll befriend it;
But, fhould Jordan refuse, I'll to Jericho fead it.
June 8.

VERSIFICATION OF THE CELEBRATED SPEECH

OF A RIGHT HON. MEMBER OF A GREAT ASSEMBLY, ONTHE MOTION FOR THE SECOND READING OF THE INDEMNITY BILL-FRIDAY, JUNE 19, 1801.

BY THE PARAPHRAST OF THE WHIG CLUB.

FROM

[From the True Briton.]

ROM the measure propos'd to this Houfe, I lament, That myself should be found the first Lord to diffent † ;.

*The printer of all Mr. T. Jones's celebrated speeches.

+ Lord S****** was forry he fhould be the firft Lord to object to a measure which preffed for the attention of the Houfe.-True Briton, June 20.

Yet,