Obrazy na stronie

But I'm sorry to see you stand there,
So hot and so sultry's the air;
I assure you, and need not repeat
How gladly I'd give you my seat!


Don't mention it, Tom; I can stand.


I wish I could, too; but unmann'd,
And laid by the heels, here I be-
Oh! you've a fast friend, Dick, in me.
So run to the constable quick,

(I wish the whole race at Old Nick !)
And tell him to undo the locks,

And set your friend free from the stocks!



"TALK o'rank! rank nonsense! I'm for equality; everybody alike, to be sure !-for, where there's no difference, in course, everybody must agree.

"I'm for the levelling system, which would certainly make all the world as smooth as a billiard-table.

"What are the heads of the people? Heads of pins and flummery. A head to a pot o' porter is wery vell; cos vhy, ve can blow it off ven ve vant to drink. "All screws have heads, but brads has none; and brads is the things ve vant.


I'm a Radical. They say as how ve 've bin a-gettin' a-head lately, and that vun of our heads has a tail. Vell, then, it's a game of heads and tails, I

s'pose; and it all depends upon the best two and


"A sort o' toss-up vether ve succeeds or no. I, for vun, vill not cry 'heads,' but 'ooman; and, under the present government, the 'ooman vill vin, depend on 't !

"Now, I'll jist go for to explain my plan; it is this 'ere. Fust and foremost, I'd lop all the members. Does anybody vant members? Secondly, I'd do away with the heads; for, does any body vant a head? And then, lastly, I'll let nobody govern anybody.

"Now, I ask, is not that liberty and independence? Vhy, it 's plain as the nose on your face.

"There are two p'ints more I vish to discuss, vhich is this 'ere,-vhat's the use o' hedication I never could understand. I on'y know as I vent to school, and that the master whack'd me over the hand vith his 'ruler'; and vhat did I learn?-vhy, to hate all rulers ever since; and that's the holus bolus o' the business.

"As for writin', I never could come it' at all; and so, instead o' writin' copies, I sot uprightin' o' wrongs; and isn't it more nobler?


“The next p’int is, vot's the use o' taxes? Vhy, jist this 'ere, a big un or so gets place (that's the fish they like), and ve starves on red herrings. Ain't this ridic❜lous?.

"The high-bred get the loaves, and raise the price o' bread (which is the reason they're called high-bred); and ve, poor devils! can scarcely get brown bread, thof

ve 're better bred nor them adulterated fellows, vot have a precious sight o'chaff' in their compositions!

"The next reform I vould purpose is this 'ere, that all the public houses should be free; that is, that every Englishman should call for vot he liked, and no reckoning; so that there might be twenty public houses in vun street, and yet not a score!


'My eyes! but the publicans would be a-tapping all day long, like so many woodpeckers.

“Ain't this fine, ey? And it vill come to pass, too. But, unfort'nately, there are so many blockheads, that there is no doubt any rational proposition vill meet vith considerable opposition.

“But time will conquer all obelisks,* and truth vill make its vay slowly but surely, like a bright sun through the fog; see if it doesn't, that's all !"


My heart is gone, and I've no heart to tell,
And shall but ill express what I can feel so well;
But that I love thee, Nancy, is as true

As I have lost one heart-and won thee too.
I fain would sing-what I can never feign,
(To be a gay deceiver I 'm too plain,)
But fear I some false note, whate'er my fire
Would make me seem, in truth, the Muse's liar!
Besides, beside myself I first must be,
Ere I can praise in artful poesy

* Tempus edax rerum !

One whom plain reason guides in her converse,
Who would not give a smile for rhyme-per-verse.
Then, in three simple words, I'll simply say

"I love thee," -ay, and will till settling day;
For time shall work no change in me,—unless
Time dwindles thee,-why, then, I'll love thee less.
In point of beauty though we disagree,
I trust this will our only difference be;
And this may be averted while I live,
If thou wilt please thy countenance to give
To him who, wanting thy fair favour, will

Be in such need, that needs must quickly kill.
But stay, my pen !-perchance thou may'st esteem
As sweet profession this my candid theme.

A final word or two I'll just indite,

Which right well fit what I'm well pleased to write. When Cavil waited on the Widow Bland With letter and with settlement in hand, She read Sir Solo's nonsense, and she sigh'd; Then sweetly said, just laying it aside, (The world's experience such precaution breeds,) "The words are fair-now let me see the deeds."

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