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My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb
At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen,
my utter aversion,
your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at all." " Oh, oh!” quoth my friend, “ he'll come on in a trice.com He's keeping a corner for something that's nice. There's a pasty"-"A pasty!” repeated the Jew; “I don't care if I keep a corner for't too.". “What the de'il, mon, a pasty !" re-echoed the Scot;
Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for thot.” “ We'll
all keep a corner," the lady cried out; “We'll all keep a corner," was echo'd about. While thus we resolv'd, and the pasty delay'd, With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid; A visage so sad, and so pale with affright, Wak'd
Priam, in drawing his curtains by night, But we quickly found out-for who could mistake her That she came with some terrible news from the baker;
And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven
think very slightly of all that's your own;
may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.
Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occasionally dined at the St. James's Coffee-house. One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person furnished subjects of witticism. He was called on for “ Retaliation,” and at their next meeting produced the following poem.
OF old when Scarron? his companions invited,
2 The master of St. James's Coffee-house, where the Doctor and the friends he has characterised in this poem, occasionally dined.
3 Dr. Bernard, dean of Derry, in Ireland.
7 Richard Cumberland, Esq., author of the “ West Indian,” “ Fashion. able Lover,” “The Brothers," and other dramatic pieces.
8 Dr. Douglas, canon of Windsor, and bishop of Salisbury, an ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no less distinguished himself as a citizen of the world, than a sound critic, in detecting several literary mistakes (or rather forgeries) of his countrymen ; particularly Lauder on Milton, and Bower's “ History of the Popes."
Our Garrick's' a salad-for in him we see
Here lies the good dean, re-united to earth,
Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining. Though equal to all things, for all things unfit: Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, sirTo eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't; The pupil of impulse, it forc'd him along, His conduct still right, with his argument wrong; Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roamThe coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home; Would you ask for his merits ? alas ! he had none; What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own.
1 David Garrick, Esq. 2 Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging to the Irish bar. 3 Sir Joshua Reynolds.
4 An eminent attorney. 6 Thomas Townshend, Member for Whitchurch, afterwards Lord Sydney.