But however favourably he and his admirers might judge of this motley tissue of rancour and impertinence, the publick in general received these criticisms with negligence and contempt. The Reviewers indeed, by pointing out their insignificancy, kept them alive for a day, and then consigned them to oblivion.

Against the attacks of a man so weak, fo vain, and so malicious, Mr. Garrick judged that ridicule would be his surest guard, and most offensive weapon. A poem was published, called the Fribbleriad, which was universally and justly attributed to Mr. Garrick. With much humour, great vivacity, pleasantry and wit, he played with the tremendous plot of Fizzgigg, the hero of the poem, and the members of his contemptible club. He characterises them as things of a peculiar species, who met together in aflembly at Hampstead, to plot the downfall of Garrick, their great enemy, who had most abominably exposed them in his farce of Miss in her Teens. The author employs colours of ridicule, suffi

ciently ciently glaring to 'excite laughter, when he describes the soft insignificance, consequential unimportance, and harmless conspiracies of these dainty nothings. The poem is really curious, and now out of print, or at least not to be purchased singly *. A few quotations from it will, I believe, be diverting to the reader. thus invokes his muse:

The poet


Say, goffip muse, who lov'st to prattle,
And fill the town with tittle tattle ;
To tell a secret such a bliss is,
Say for what cause these master misses
To Garrick such a hatred bore,
That long they wilh'd to make him fore?
To bind the monster hand and foot,
Like Gulliver in Lilliput;
With birchin-twigs to hea his skin,
And each to stick him with a pin?
Are things so delicate so fell !
Can cherubims be imps of hell ?

* It was inserted in The Repository," a very entertaining miscellany (selected by a gentleman to whom the world of letters is under great obligations), published in 2 volumes by Mr. Dilly, 1776.

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Tell us how.spite a scheme begot, - Who laid the eggs, who hatch'd the plot. - O sing in namby paniby, feet, Is Like to the subject, tripping neat ;

Snatch ev’sy, grace that fancy reaches; fa Rçlate their passions, plottings, speeches :

You, when their Pan Fribblerium sat,

Saw them conven'd, and heard their chat; 3. Saw all their wriggling, fuming, fretting,

Their nodding, frisking, and curvetting;
Each minute saw their rage grow stronger,
Till the dear things could hold no longer ;
But out burit forth the deadful vow
TO DO A DEED! - But when, and how?
And where? O muse, thy lyre new-string,
The How, the When, the Where, to fing.
Say in what sign the sun had enter'd
When these sweet souls on plotting ventur’d
'Twas when the balmy breath of May
Makes tender lambkins sport and play;
When tenderer fribbles walk, and dare
To gather nosegays in tlie air.

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There is a place upon a hill,
Where çits of pleasure take their fill;
Where hautboys scream, and fiddles squeak,
To sweat the ditto once a week:


Where joy of late unmixed with noise
Of romping girls and drunken boys;
Where Decency, sweet maid, appear’d,
And in her hand brought Johnny Beard.
'Twas here (for public rooms are free),
They met to plot and drink their tea.
Each on a fattin ftool was seated,
Which, nicely quilted, curtain’d, pleated.
Did all their various skill display;

Each work?d his own, to grace the day:
Above the rest, and set apart,
A chair was plac'd, where curious art,

With lace and fringe, to honour meant © Him they should chuse their president!

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After fome debate, one of the fribble heroes, Sir Cock-a-Doodle, proposes to chuse Fizgigg for their chairman, whom he declares to be the most proper person to carry on the war with vigour against the common enemy. Fizgigg is thus described:

At which one larger than the rest,
With visage sleek, and swelling chest,
With stretch'd-out fingers, and a thumb
Stuck to his hips, and jutting bum,
Rose up


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Captain Pattypan proposes to destroy Garrick by the sword.

At length began
The valiant Captain Pattypan:
With kimbow'd arm, and toffing head,
He bridled up-Wear I this red?
Shall blood be nam'd, and I be dumb?
For that, and that alone, I come;
Glory's my call, and blood my trade;
And thus-Then forth he drew his blade.

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The Rev. Mr. Marjoram prescribes arsenic in the enemy's gruel, as the surest and safest method to dispatch him,

More foft, more gentle than a lamb,

a The reverend Mister Marjoram Arose--but first, with finger's tip, He pats the patch upon his lip, Then o'er it glides his healing tongue; And thus he faidor rather sung: $ Sure 'tis the error of the moon ! Wha, fight a mimic, a buffoon! In France he has the Church's curse, And England's church is ten times worse.

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