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Capt. Nay, sir, but hear me.

Sir A. Sir, I won't hear a word-not a word ! to give me your promise by a nod—and I'll tell you what, Jack-I mean you dog-if you don't, by

Capt. What, sir, promise to link myself to some woman of ugliness! to

Sir A. Zounds ! sirrah ! the lady shall be as ugly as I choose ; she shall have a hump on each shoulder ; she shall be as crooked as the crescent ; her one eye shall roll about like the Bull's in Coxe's Museum-she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew—she shall be all this, sirrah ! yet I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty.

Capt. This is reason and moderation, indeed !
Sir A. None of your grinning, jackanapes !

Capt. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humour for mirth in my life.

Sir A. 'Tis false, sir, I know you'll grin when I am gone.
Capt. Sir, I hope I know my duty better.
Sir A. None of your passion, sir, can't you be cold like me ?
Capt. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life.

Sir A. 'Tis a confounded lie! I know you are in a passion in your heart, you hypocritical young dog! but it won't do. But mark ! I give you just six hours and a half to consider of this ! if you then agree to do every thing on earth that I choose, why, confound you ! I may in time forgive you--if not, zounds! don't enter the same hemisphere with me! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me; but get an atmosphere and sun of your own! I'll strip you of your commission ; I'll lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of the trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I'll disown you, I'll disinherit you, I'll unget you! and d-n me, if ever I call you Jack again.


-Her giant form
O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm,
Majestically calm, would go
Mid the deep darkness white as snow!
But gentler now the small waves glide
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side.
So stately her bearing, so proud her array,
The main she will traverse for ever and aye.

Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!
-Hush ! hush ! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last
Pive hundred souls in one instant of dread
Are hurried o'er the deck ;
And fast the miserable ship
Becomes a lifeless wreck.
Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock,
Her planks are torn asunder,
And down come her masts with a reeling shock,
And a hideous crash like thunder.
Her sails are draggled in the brine
That gladdened late the skies,
And her pendant that kissed the fair moonshine
Down many a fathom lies.
Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues,
Gleamed softly from below,
And flung a warm and sunny flush
O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow,
To the coral rocks are hurrying down,
To sleep amid colours as bright as their own.

Oh! many a dream was in the ship
An hour before her death;
And sights of home with sighs disturbed
The sleeper's long-drawn breath.
Instead of the murmur of the sea,
The sailor heard the humming tree,
Alive through all its leaves,
The hum of the spreading sycamore
That grows before his cottage door,
And the swallow's song in the eaves.
His arms enclosed a blooming boy,
Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy
To the dangers his father had passed;
And his wife—by turns she wept and smiled,
As she looked on the father of her child
Returned to her heart at last.
He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll,
And the rush of the waters is in his soul,
Astounded the reeling deck he paces,
Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces ;-
The whole ship's crew are there.
Wailings around and overhead,
Brave spirits stupified or dead,
And madness and despair.
Now is the ocean's bosom bare,
Unbroken as the floating air ;
The ship hath melted quite away,
Like a struggling dream at break of day.

No image meets my wandering eye,
But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky,
Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapour dull,
Bedims the waves so beautiful ;
While a low and melancholy moan
Mourns for the glory that hath flown.


This was an action that was brought against a man of the name of Warburton, for having practised without being duly qualified -it was tried before Sir W. Garrow at the Staffordshire Assizes ; the defendant was son to a man who had been in early life a gardener, but afterwards set up as a cow-leech. Cross-examined by Mr. Dauncey. Mr. D. Have you always been a surgeon ? Wit. Pray, my Lord, is this a proper answer ?

Judge. I have not heard any answer ; Mr. Dauncey has put a question.

Wit. Must I answer ? Judge. Yes, do you object ? Wit. I don't think it a proper answer. Judge. I presume you mean question ; I beg leave to differ with you in opinion. Mr. D. Have you always been a surgeon ? Wit. I am a surgent. Mr. D. Can you spell the word you mention ! Wit. My Lord, is that a fair answer ? Judge. I think it a fair question. Wit. Spell the word ! to be sure I can. S.y-u-rgunt.

Mr. D. I am rather hard of hearing--repeat what you have said.

Wit. S-u-r-gend.
Mr. D. What did you say was next to S, sir ?
Wit. S-y-u-gent.
Judge. As I take it down, please to favour me with it once
Wit. S-q-u-r-gent.
Judge. What ?
Wit. S.e-r-gund.

Mr. D. Have you always been what you say ! what were you originally ?

Wit. S-y-u-r-g-e-n-d.


Mr. D. Were you ever a gardener, Dr. Warburton ?
Wit. Surgent.
Mr. D. I do not ask you to spell that word again.
Wit. Sergund-aye, that's it.

Mr. D. My Lord, I fear I have thrown a spell over this poor man, which he can't get rid of. Where was you a gardener ?

Wit. I never was a gardener-I first was a farmer- I ceased to be a farmer, because I learnt the business I now is.

Mr. D. Who did you learn it of ?
Wit. My Lord, is that a proper question ?
Judge. I see no objection to it.

Wit. I learned it of Doctor Hum—he practised the same as the Whitworth doctors, and they were ruglar physicians.

Mr. D. Where did they take their degrees ?
Wit. I don't think they ever took any.

Mr. D. Then do you suppose they could be regular physicians ?

Wit. No, I believe they were only doctors.
Mr. D. Were they doctors of law, physic, or divinity ?
Wit. They doctored cows and other human beings.

Mr. D. Did you ever make up medicines from the prescription of a physician?

Wit, I never did.

Mr. D. Do you understand the characters they use for ounces, scruples, and drachms?

Wit. I do not. I can make up as good medicine in my way as they can in theirs.

Mr. D. What proportion does an ounce bear to a pound ?
Wit. My Lord, is that a fair answer-I mean question ?
Judge. Certainly.
Mr. D. There are sixteen ounces to the pound.
Wit. We do not go by weight, we mix ours by the hand.
Mr. D. Do you ever bleed?
Wit. Yes.
Mr. D. With a fleam or lancet ?
Wit. With a launcelot.
Mr. D. Do you bleed from the vein or the artery ?
Wit. From the wain.

Mr. D. There is an artery about the temple, can you tell the name of it?

Wit. I does not pretend to have so much knowleage as some.
Mr. D. Can you tell me the name of that artery ?
Wit. I don't know what artifice you mean.
Mr. D. Suppose I was to tell you to bleed my servant—which

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