All these in ample form rlepos'd,
Each fact the triple charge diselos'd,
With taunts anrl gibes of bitter sort,
And asking vengeance from the court. The pris'ner said in his defence,
That he indeed had small pretence
To soften facts so deeply sworn,
But would for his offences mourn;Yet more he hop'd than bare rejientanec
Might still be urg'd to ward the sentence.
That he had held a place some years,
He ownM with penitence and tears,
But took it not from motives base,
Th' indictment there mistook the case;
Ami though he had betray'd his trust
In being to his country just,
Neglecting Faction and her friends,
He did it not for wicked ends,
But that complaints and feuds might cease,
And jarring parties mix in peace. That what he wrote to Gilbert West,
Bore hard against him, he confess'd;
Yet there they wrong'd him; for the fact is,
He reason'd for belief, not practice jAnd people might believe, he thought,
Though practice might be doem'd a fault.
He either dreamt it, or was told,
Religion was rever'd of old,
That it gave breeding no offence,
And was no foe to wit and sense;But whether this was truth, or whim,
He would not say; the doubt with him
(And no great harm he hop'd) was, how
Th' enlighten'd world would take it now:If they admitted it, 'twas well;If not, he never talk'd of Hell;Nor ev'n hop'd to change men's measures,
Or frighten ladies from their pleasures.

One accusation, he confess'd,
Had touch'd him more than all the rest;
Three patriot-letters, high in fame,
By him o'erthrown, and brought to shame.
And though it was a rule in vogue,
If one man call'd another rogue,
The party injur'd might reply,
And on his foe retort the lie;
Yet what accru'd from all his labour,
But foul dishonour to his neighbour?
And he's a most unchristian elf,
Who others damns to save himself.
Besides, as all men knew, he said,
Those Letters only rail'd for bread j
And hunger was a known excuse
For prostitution and abuse:
A guinea, properly apply'd,
Had made the writer change his side;
He wish'd he had not cut and carv'd him,
And own'd, he should have bought, not starv'd him.

The court, he said, knew all the rest,
And must proceed as they thought best;
Only he hop'd such resignation
Would plead some little mitigation;
And if his character was clear
From other faults, (and friends were near,
Who would, when call'd upon, attest it)
He did in humblest form request it,
To be from punishment exempt,
And only suffer their contempt.

The pris'ner's friends their claim preferr'd,
In turn demanding to be heard.

Integrity and Honour swore, Benevolence, and twenty more, That he was always of their party, And that they knew him firm and hearty. Religion, sober dame, attended. And, as she could, his cause befriended. She said, 'twas since he came from college, She knew him introdue'd by Knowledge:

The man was modest and sincere, Nor further could she interfere. The Muses begg'd to interpose;But Envy with loud hissings rose, And call'd them women of ill fame,

Liars, and prostitutes to shame;And said, to all the world 'twas known, Selim had had them every one. The pris'ner hlush'd, the Muses frown'd, When silence was proctainTd around,

And Faction, rising with the rest, In form the pris'ner thus address'd.

"You, Selim, thrice have been indicted s
First, that by wicked pride excited,
And bent your country to disgrace,
You have receiv'd and held a place:
Next, Infidelity to wound,
You 'vc dar'd, with arguments profound,
To drive Freethinking to a stand,
And with Religion vex the land:And lastly, in contempt of right,
With horrid and unnat'ral spite,
You have an author's fame o'erthrown,
Thereby to build and fence your own."These crimes successive, on your trial.
Have met with proofs beyond denial;To which yourself, with shame, conceded,
And but in mitigation pleaded.
Yet that the justice of the court
May suffer not in men's report,
Judgment a moment I suspend,
To reason as from friend to friend.

"And first, that you, of all mankind,
With kings and courts should stain your mind?
You! who were Opposition's lord!Her nerves, her sinews, and her sword!That you at last, for servile endg.
Should wound the bowels of her friends,
Is aggravation of offence,
That leaves for mercy no pretence.

Yet more For you to urge your hate,

And back the church, to aid the state!For you to publish such a letter!You! who have known Religion better!

For you, I say, to introduce The fraud again !—there's no excuse. And last of all, to crown your shame, Was it for you to load with blame The writings of a patriot-youth, And summon Innocence and Truth To prop your cause ?—■— Was this for you ?——

I!ut justice does your crimes pursue;And sentence now alone remains, Which thus, by me, the court ordains:

"That you return from whence you came,
There to be stript of all your fame
By vulgar hands; that once a week
Old England pinch you till you squeak j
That ribbald pamphlets do pursue you,
And lies and murmurs, to undo you.
With every foe that Worth procures,
And only Virtue's friends be your's."





When I said I would die a batehelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

Much Ado about Nothing.

No, no; the left-hand box, in blue;

There! don't you see her ?—" See her! Who?"

Nay, hang mi; if I tell.
There's Garrick in the music-box!
Watch but his eyes; see there "O pox!

"Your sen ant, ma'moiselle '."

But tell me, David, is it true?
Lord help us! what will some folks do?How will they curse this stranger!
What! fairly taken in for life!
A sober, serious, wedded wife!

0 fie upon you, Ranger!

The clergy too have join'd the chat;
"A papist \—Has he thought of that?

Or means he to convert her?"
Troth, boy, unless your zeal be stout,
The nyuiph may turn your faith about,

By arguments expertcr.

The ladies, pale and out of breath,
Wild as the witches in Macbeth,

Ask if the "deed be done?"
O, David 1 listen to my lay!
1 'II prophesy the things they Ml say;

For tongues, you know, will run.

"And pray, what other news d' yc hear? Marry'd!—But don't you think, my dear,

He's growing out of fashion? People may fancy what they will, But Quid 's the only actor still,

To touch the tender passion.

"Nay, madam, did you mind, last night, His Archer? not a line on't right!

1 thought I heard some hisses. Good God! if Billy Mills, thought I, Or Billy Havard would but try,

They'd beat him all to pieces.

"Twas prudent though to drop his Bayei—
And (entre nous) the laureat says,

He hopes he '11 give up Richard.
Bat then it tickles me to see,
In Hastings, such a shrimp as he

Attempt to ravish Pritchard.

"The fellow pleas'd me well enough

h — what d' ye call it? Hoadley's stuff;

There s something there like nature:
Just so, in life, he runs about,
Plays at bo-peep, now in, now out,

But hurts no mortal creature.

"And then there's Belmont, to be sure

O ho! my gentle Neddy Moore!

How d<>» my good lord-mayor? And have you left Cheapside, my dear i And will you write again next year,

Tb show your fav'rite player?

"But Merope, we own, is fine,
Eumenes charms in every line;

How prettily he vapours!
So gay his dress, so young his look,
One would have sworn 'twas Mr. Cook,

Or Mathews, cutting capers."

Thus, David, will the ladies flout,
And councils hold at every rout,

To alter all your plays:
Yates shall be Benedick next year,
Macklin be Richard, Taswell Lear,

And Kitty Clive be Bayes.

Two parts they readily allow

Are yours; but not one more, they vow;

And thus they close their spite: You will be sir John Brute, they say, A very sir John Brute all day,

And Fribble alt the night.

But tell me, fair-ones, is it so?"You all did love him once'," we know;

What then provokes your gall? Forbear to rail—I 'II tell you why; Quarrels may come, or madam die,

And then there's hope for all.

And now a word or two remains,
Sweet Davy, and I close my strains:

Think well ere you engage;
Vapours and ague-fits may come,
And matrimonial claims at home,

Unnerve you for the stage.

But if you find your spirits right,
Your mind at ease, your body tight;

Take her; you can't do better:
A pox upon the tattling town!
The fops that join to cry her down

Would give their ears to get her.

Then if her heart be good and kind,
(And sure that face bespeaks a mind

As soft as woman's can be)
You '11 grow as constant as a dove,
And taste the purer sweets of love,

Unvisited by Ranby'.



Says Envy to Fortune, "Soft, soft, madam^Flirt! Not so fast with your wheel, you '11 be down in the

dirt! [creature,

Well, and how does your David? Indeed, my dear
You've shown him a wonderful deal of good-nature;
His bags are so full, and such praises his due,
That the like was ne'er known—and all owing to you:
But why won't you make him quite happy for life,
And to all you have done add the gift of a wife?"
Says Fortune, and smil'd, "Madam Envy, God

save ye!But why always sneering at me and poor Davy?

1 Julius Ca;sar.

1 An eminent surgeon. C.

I own that sometimes, in contempt of all rules, I lavish my favours on hlockheadi and fools;
But the case is quite different here, I aver it,
For David ne'er knew me, till hrought me hy Merit.
And yet to convince you—nay, madam, no hisses—
Good manners atleast—such hehaviour as this is—!"
(For mention but Merit, and Envy flies out With a hiss and a yell that would silence a rout.
But Fortune went on)—" To convince you, I say,
That I honour your scheme, I 'II ahout it to day;
The man shall he marry'd, so pray now be easy,
And Garrick for once shall do something to please
ye." So saying, she rattled her wheel out of sight,
While Envy walk'd after, and grinn'd w ith delight.
It seems 'twas a trick that she long had heen

To marry poor David, and so he his ruin:
For Slander had told her the creature lov'd pelf,
And car'd not a fig for a soul but himself;
From thence she was sure, had the Devil a daughter,
He'd snap at the girl, so'twas Fortune that brought
her:And then should her temper he sullen or haughty,
Her flesh too he frail, and incline to he naughty,
'Twould fret the poor fellow so out of his reason,
That Barry and Quin would set fashions next season.

But Fortune, who saw what the Fury design'd,
Resolv'd to get David a wife to his mind:
Yet afraid of herself in a matter so nice,
She visited Prudence, and hegg'd her advice.
The nymph shook her head when the husiness she

And said that her female acquaintance were few;

That excepting miss R —O, yes, there was one,

A friend of that lady's, she visited none;But the first was too great, and the last was too
good, And as for the rest, she might get whom she could. Away hurried Fortune, perplex'd and half mad,
But her promise was pass'd, and a wife must be had:
She travers'd the town from one corner to t' other,
Now knocking at one door and then at another.
The girls curtsy'd low as she look'd in their faces,
And bridled and primm'd with ahundance of graces;
But this was coquettish, and that was a prude,
One stupid and dull, t ' other noisy and rude;
A third was affected, quite careless a fourth,
With prate without meaning, and pride without
worth;A fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh were such
As either knew nothing or something too much—
In short as they pass'd, she to all had ohjections;
The gay wanted thought, the good-humour'd affec-

The prudent were ugly, the sensihle dirty.
And all of them flirts, from fifteen up to thirty.

When Fortune saw this she began to look silly,
Yet still she went on till she reach'd Piccadilly;
But vex'd and fatigu'd, and the night growing late,
She rested her wheel within Burlington gate.
My lady rose up, as she saw her come in,

II O ho, madam Genins! pray where have you heen?" (For her ladyship thought, from so serious an air, Twas Genins come home, for it seems she liv'd there.) But Fortune, not minding her ladyship's blunder, And wiping her forehead, cry'd, "Well may you wonder To see me thus flurry'd;"—then told her the case, And sigh'd till her ladyship laugh'd in her face.

"Mighty civil indeed!"—" Come, a trace," says my lady,

"A truce with complaints, and perhaps I may aid yc
I 'll show you a girl that—Here, Martin! go tell—
But she's gone to undress; by-and-by is as well—
I 'Il show you a sight that yon II fancy uncommon,
Wit, beauty, and goodness, all met in a woman;A heart to no folly or mischief inclin'd,
A hody all grace, and all sweetness a mind"
"O, pray let me see her," says Fortune, and

"Do hut give her to me, and I'll make her my child—

But who, my dear, who?—for you have not told


"Who indeed," says my lady, "if not VHettc '."
The words were scarce spoke whetf she enter'd
the room;A blush at the stranger still heighten'd her h!ootn;
So humhle her looks, were, so mild was her air,
That Fortune, astonish'd, sat mute in her chair.
My lady rose up, and with countenance bland,
"This is Fortune, my dear," and presented her hand:
The goddess emhrac'd her, and cali'd her her own,
And, compliments over, her errand made known.
But how the sweet girl eolour'd, flntter'd, and

How oft she said no, and how ill she dissembled;
Or how little David rejoie'd at the news,
And swore, from all others, 'twas her he would choose;
What methods he try'd, and what arts to prevail;
All these, were they told, would hut hurthen my

tale— Iu short, all affairs were so happily carry'd, That hardly six weeks pass'd aw ay till they marry'd.

But Envy grew sick when the story she heard, Violette was the girl that of all she most fear'd; She knew her good-humour, herheauty and sweetness,

Her ease and compl ance, her taste and her neatness;
From these she was sure thather man could not roam,
And must rise on the stage, from contentment at
home:So on she went hissing, and inwardly curst her.
And Garrick next season will certainly burst her.





That your honour's petitioners (dealers in rhymes. And writers of scandal for mending the times) By losses in business, and England's well-doing, Are sunk in their credit, and verging on ruin. That these their misfortunes, they humbly conceive, Arise not from dulness, as some folks helieve, But from rubs in their way which your honour has laid, And want of materials to carry on trade. That they always had form'd high conceits of their use, And meant their last breath should go out in ahuse;



Bnt now (and they speak it with sorrow and tears)
Since your honour has sat at the helm of affairs,
No party will join them, no faction invite
To heed what they say, or to read what they write;
Sedition, and Tumult, and Discord are fled,
And Slander scarce ventures to lift up her head—
In short, public business is so carry'd on,
That theircountry is sav'd, and the patriots undone.
To perplex them still more, and sure famius4^
(Now satire has lost lioth its truth and its sting)
If, in spite of their natures, they bungle at praise,
Your honour regards not, and nobody pays.

Your petitioners therefore most humbly intreat
(As the times will allow, and your honour thinks meet)
That measures be chang'd, and some cause of com-
Be immediately furnish'd, to end their restraint;
Their credit thereby, and their trade to retrieve,
That again they may rail, and the nation believe. Or else (if your wisdom shall deem it all one)
Now the parliament's rising, and business is done,
That your honour would please, at this dangerous crisis,
To take to your bosom a few private vices,
By which your petitioners haply might thrive,
And keep both themselves and Contention alive.
In compassion, good sir, give them something to
And your honour's petitioners ever shall pray.



Tm> prisoner was at large indicted, For that by thirst of gain excited, One day in July last, at tea, And in the house of Mrs. P. From the left breast of E. M. gent.

With base felonious intent, Did then and there a heart with strings, Rest, quiet, peace, and other things, Steal, rob, and plunder; and all them The chattels of the said E. M.

The prosecutor swore, last May
(The month he knew, but not the day)
He left his friends in town, and went
Upon a visit down in Kent:
That staying there a month or two,
He spent his time as others do,
In riding, walking, fishing, swimming;
But being much inclin'd to women,
And yoanr and wild, and no great rcasoner,
He gut acquainted with the prisoner.
He own'd, 'twas rumour'd in those parts
That she'd a trick of stealing hearts,
And from fifteen to twenty-two,
Had made the devil and all to do:
But Mr. W. the vicar,
(And no man brews you better liquor)
Spoke of her thefts as tricks of youth,
The frolics of a girl forsooth:
Things now were on another score,
He said; for she wax twenty--four.

However to make matters short, And not to trespass on the court, The lady was discover'd soon,

And thus it was. One afternoon, The ninth of July last, or near it, (As to the day, he could not swear it) In company at Mrs. P.'s, Where folks say any thing they please;

Dean L. and lady Mary by, And Fanny waiting on Miss Y. (He own'd he was inclin'd to think ■

Both were a little in their drink) The pris'ner ask'd, and call'd him cousin.

How many kisses made a dozen?That being, as he own'd, in liquor, The question made his blood run quicker.

And, sense ancl reason in eclipse, He vow'd he 'd score them on her lips. That rising up to keep his word, He got as far as kiss the third, And would have counted t' other nine, And so all present did opine, But that he felt a sudden dizziness, That quite undid him for the business:His speech, he said, began to falter, His eyes to stare, his mouth to water, His breast to thump without cessation, And all within one conflagration.

"Bless me!" says Fanny, "what's the matter?" And lady Mary look'd hard at her, And stamp'd, aud wish'd the pris'ner further, And cry'd out, " Part them, or there's murther!"

That still he held the pris'ner fast,

And would have stood it to the last;

Bnt struggling to go through the rest, He felt a pain across his breast, A sort of sudden twinge, he said, That seem'd almost to strike him dead, And after that such cruel smarting, He thought the soul and body parting.

That then he let the pris'ner go, And stagger'd off a step or so;And thinking that his heart was ill, He begg'd of miss Y.'s maid to feel. That Fanny stept before the rest, And laid her hand upon his breast;But, mercy on us! what a stare The creature gave! No heart was there;Souse went her fingers in the hole, Whence heart, and strings, and all were stole. That Fanny turn'd, and told the prisoner,

She was a thief, and so she'd christen her;And that it was a burning shame, And brought the house an evil name;

And if she did not put the heart in,

The man would pine and die for certain. The pris'ner then was in her airs, And bid her mind her own affairs;And told his reverence, and the rest'of 'em, She was as honest as the best of 'cm.

That lady Mary and dean L.

Rose up and said, "Twas mighty well," But that, in general terms they said it, A heart was gone, and some one had it:Words would not do, for search they must, And search they would, and her the first. That then the pris'ner dropp'd her anger, And said, she liop'd they would not hang her;That all she did was meant in jest, And there the heart was, and the rest.

That then the dean cry'd out, "O fie!" And sent in haste for justice I. Who, though he knew her friends and pity'd her, Call'd her hard names, and so committed her. The parties present swore the same;And Fanny said, the pris'ner's name
Had frighten'd all the country round;
And glad she was the hill was found.
She knew a man, who knew another,
Who knew the very party's brother,
Who lost his heart by mere surprise,
One morning looking at her eyes;And others had been known to squeak,
Who oniy chanr'd to hear her speak:
For she had words of such a sort,
That though she knew no reason for it,
Would make a man of sense run mad,
And rifle him of all he had;
And that she'd rob the whole community,
If ever she had opportunity.

The pris'ner now first silence hroke,
And curtsy'd round her as she spoke.
She own'd, she said, it much incens'd her,
To hear such matters sworn against her,
But that she hop'd to keep her temper,
And prove herself eadem semper.
That what the prosecutor swore
Was some part true, and some part more:
She own'd she had been often seen with him,
And laugh'd and chatted on the green with him;
The fellow seem'd to have humanity,
And told her tales that sooth'd her vanity,
Pretending that he lov'd her vastly,
And that all women else look'd ghastly.
But then she hop'd the court would think
She never was inclin'd to drink,
Or suffer hands like his to daub her, or
Encourage men to kiss and slohher her;
She'd have folks know she did not love it,
Or if she did, she was ahove it.
But this, she said, was sworn of course,
To prove her giddy, and then worse;As she whose conduct was thought I as vis,
Might very well be reckon'd thievish.
She hop'd, she said, the court's discerning
Would pay some honour to her learning,
For every day from four to past six,
She went up stairs, and read the classics.
Thus having clear'd herself of levity,
The rest, she said, would come with brevity.
And first, it injur'd not her honour
To own the heart was found upon her;
For she could prove, and did aver,
The paltry thing belong'd to her:
The fact was thus. This prince of knaves
Was once the humblest of her slaves,
And often had confess'd the dart
Her eyes had lodg'd within his heart:
That she, as 'twas her constant fashion,
Made great diversion of his passion;
Which set his blood in such a ferment,
As seem'd to threaten his interment:
That then she was afraid of losing him,
And so desisted from abusing him;
And often came and felt his pulse,
And bid him write to doctor Hulse.
The prosecutor thank'd her kindly,
And sigh'd, and said she look'd divinely;
But told her that his heart was bursting,
And doctors he had little trust in;

He therefore begg'd her to accept it, And hop'd 'twould mend if once she kept it. That having no aversion to it, She said, with all her soul, she'd do it; But then she begg'd him to remember, If he should need it in December, (For winter months would make folks shiver,

Who wanted either heart or liver) It never could return; and added,

Twas her's for life, if once she had it. The prosecutor said, Amen, And that he wish'd it not again;

itnd took it from his breast and gave her, And bow'd, and thank'd her for the favour;But hegg'd the thing might not be spoke of.

As heartless men were made a joke of. That next day, whisp'ring him about it, And asking how he felt without it, He sigh'd, and cry'd, Alack! alack!And begg'd, and pray'd to have it back;Or that she'd give him her's instead on't:But she conceiv'd there was no need on't;

And said, and bid him make no pother, He should have neither one nor t' other. That then he rav'd and storm'd like fury, And said, that one was his de jure, And rather than he'd leave pursuing her, He'd swear a robbery, and ruin her.

That this was truth she did aver,
Whatever hap betided her.
Only that Mrs. P. she said,
Miss Y. and her deluded maid,
And lady Mary, and his reverence,
Were folks to whom she paid some deference;
And that she verily believ'd
They were not perjur'd, hut deceiv'd.

Then doctor D. hegg'd leave to spv ak.
And sigh'd as if his heart would break.
He said, that he was madam's surgeon.
Or rather, as in Greek, chirurgeon,
From cheir, manus, ergon, opus,
(As scope is from the Latin scopus.)
That he, he said, had known the prisoner
From the first sun that ever rose on her;
And griev'd he was to see her there;
But took upon himself to swear,
There was not to be found in nature
A sweeter or a better creature;
And if the king (God hless him) knew her,
He'd leave St. James's to get to her:
But then, as to the fact in question,
He knew no more on't than Hephsestion;
It might be false, and might be true;
And this, he said, was all he knew.

The judge proceeded to the charge,
And gave the evidence at large,
But often cast a sheep's eye at her,
And strove to mitigate the matter,
Pretending facts were not so clear,
And mercy ought to interfere.

The jury then withdrew a moment,
As if on weighty points to comment;
And, right or wrong, resolv'd to save her.
They gave a verdict in her favour.

But why or wherefore things were so,
It matters not for us to know:
The culprit by escape grown bold,
Pilfers alike from young and old,
The country all around her teazes,
And robs or murders whom she pleases.

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