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never mind, only recollect, I am one upon your Tibby, for this, that's all.'
Now the parson wished his parishioners to believe that he was a very learned and clever man, and that, although he had a book before him, it was, in fact, of little use to him, and that he generally delivered his discourses extempore, which, by the by, the clerk knew was no such thing, for Mr. Parson had a secret niche cut in his desk, into which he put his book. On the following Sunday, Muggins made a point of being at church first, and espying the parson's book in the old place, he made no bones of whipping out one of the leaves : shortly after the parson arrived, the service commenced, and went on as usual; the parson mounted his pulpit to deliver his sermon, and proceeded in his usual apparently inspired manner, till he came to the place where the leaf was torn out. And lo and behold, Moses[missing the leaf] and behold-and, as I before said, and lo! and behold, Moses- -and-and behold, Moses [scratching his head, and turning over the leaves of his book confusedly.] say, Mr. Clerk, Mr. Clerk,' said the parson, looking down upon him ; 'Mr. Clerk, what's become of my Moses ?' “Why, [said Muggins, looking up archly at him,] Why, he has got sore eyes, and can't come to church to day, sir.'
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
(An original Recitation, by P. T.) MANY strange things may happen in a life, Some men die old, yet never know a wife: Some perish early, as the flowers in spring, Fall swift as dew-drops from the eagle's wing.
Some folks do this, and others that,
As some love lean and others fat;
While some like pudding, others beef,
Sly as a London pocket-picking thief;
Their brethren on the Stock Exchange,
To balance and content their conscience strange ; And think, with satisfied sufficient grin, • Charity covers up a mass of sin.' Thus, the great people who have daily dined,
Turn charitable yearly to be sure; And being in a feeding cue inclined, Give annually dinners to the poor ;
At which they stuff,
And breathe and puff,
Fill'd to the full,
As country gull,
Open all generous, their pockets willing,
A Jew, a Sheva the benevolent;
And fed as inclination sway'd,
I would not, for a crown, the Rabbi knows.
I'll tell each wicked grinner,
When Sheva came to dinner,
And then to wipe away the devil's scores,
Besiege the other's open chapel doors, To have two hours of piety on Sunday ; For Jews and Christians now no conscience feel, But bear disgraces like the turncoat Neele. Well, let me thus much of my Sheva say, He was a more than Christian in his way; A good Samaritan, who willing gave A helping hand that fallen wretch to save; And staunch'd the bosoms that with sorrow bleed, Without inquiring their religious creed ; He was not miserly in charity, The which you'll deem a rarity; Nor mean, nor loth his station to uphold, As German princes stuff'd with English gold. On this day year-I mark'd it very well
Because when talking of a person's feasts,
Like grocers, I'm particular in my dates--
Then my friend Sheva, went him out to dine, And lush the capital “old London' wine.
High smoked the dishes,
All was gay,
Found the way
Making the under jaw
Fight all the munching war;
0, woe is me! the saddest, saddest sight,
Was Sheva !-Sheva, the benignly kind, Sat in terrible alarming plight,
Because his favour'd joint he could not find! Why, he look'd as dull amid the gay house, As Thomas Flowers' ill-lighted playhouse,
For you must know,
To cause his woe, The waiter, his old friend, had ta'en a flight, And no more pander'd to his appetite.
Well, Sheva blush'd,
Was nearly speaking ;
His tongue from speaking.
With knowing wink,
At which, I think,
Off went the waiter, speedy as a shot,
The mutton sought,
Which sought, he brought. Enrag'd was Sheva, when he saw The mutton was not to his maw; For it had never happen'd to his thinking, The waiter might not understand his winking.
So, Sheva, most supremely curst,
• You dog! you'd cure de devil of de vapours,
You give my heart more grieving than a bunion ;
But de roast mutton wid de sage and onion.'
THE SPEECH OF BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF
ROMANs, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my cause : and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour, and have a respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any near friend of Cæsar's, to him I say that Brutus's love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer : Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves ; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition. Who's here so base, that would be a bond-man? If any speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman! If any speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended— I pause for a reply.
None?-then none have 1 offended. - I have done no more to Cæsar than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart, that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.