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Geuins loved and wooed
By that self-same river;
While I touch the string
Wreathe my brows with laurel;
Has a further moral.
A HATE SONG.
DIALOGUE BETWDEN THE POET AND A LADY.
P. Let lovers whine of darts and pains
That run'em through and through;
As make us curse il too.
At present is to be in hate.
And what a dreadful thing!
What! lofty as a king!
You'll not convince me easily.
So gentle are and winceable,
Convincing and convinceable.
The argument ad fæminam.
The book you kiss so for one ;
Now you, Sir, could abhor one.
What does one do, when one's in hale!
"I'is all a fine negation;
Nor any inclination;
To go away, or be unpleasant.
Except for that last word:
With a whole tattling herd;
* Ay, ay, there is no need
that you sticceed”-)
It must be with a person
When she's a very curse on
A vain and jealous lump, to wit,
Who sins and tbinks all sinners;
Because she's bad two dinners ;
Makes flourishes of trumpets
Or pressing you to crumpets ;
As if it could not stir,
In hopes you'll fatter her;
To cheer her parents' faces,
Goes flaring in new luces ;
Pearls that seem compos’d of tears.
They cannot bear neglecta
TO CORRESPONDENTS. A Correspondent asks after the words, which suggested to us the song in a number or two back. We found them in an old set of airs by Millico, who we believe, was a popular composer. They are as follow, and are set in a very sprightly and characteristic manner,
Se moneca ti fai,
lo frate mi farò;
Che regolar non so:
Ma non lo credo, no. We are much obliged to our friend T. R., and should like to see the work he speaks of.
Printed and published by JOSEPR APPLEYARD, No. 19, Catherine-street, Strand.
Price 20.-And sold also by A. GLIDDON, Importer of Souffs, No. 31, Tavistockstreet, Covent-garden. Orders received at the above places, and by all Book. sellers and Newsmen.
There he arriving round about doth fie,
No. LXVIII.-WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 24th, 1821.
APOLOGIES AND PRIMROSES.
We omitted to mention, that the verses in our last number were repeated from the Examiner. It is neither the importance nor the unimportance of the things themselves, which makes us thus scrupulous; but as we go upon a ground of truth in all we write, and do not even wear a mask in this our 6 Indicative mood,” we like the reader to know when he is purchasing patterns that have not been sold before, and when he is consenting, for our accommodation, to let those that have, be copied for him as a make-up. It is fair play. towards him; and assists whatever value our writings may have, when new.
As people cannot get well, somehow, as fast as they could wish, still less by the same means which helped to make them ill, (which is very inconvenient), we must again draw upon former productions for a whole number. There are twenty subjects pressing upon us for notice, to all which, like friends whom we long to visit, we are obliged to make the most unwilling and self-denying excuses : but it is only with the hope of securing our health for their service. At present, we are obliged to go on nursing our megrims, diaphragms, patiences, and "other gentilities," as Metastasio says. But spring, as well as hope, is now before us; and we omit no active, as well as passive means, to restore the equilibrium between our preaching and our practice, and prove ourselves worthy pioneers into the woods and green lanes. On Saturday morning, which happened to be so fine, we heard, for the first time this year, the cry of Primroses; which besides its being a very pretty cry and tuneable, is to the new year what the Cuckoo is to the summer; only it is a still pleasanter song, because it is still more wanted, and is human. Fortunately, the crier was a woman, and did it justice. What a world of thoughts must not a passing voice, on such an occasion, cast into each house as it goes! To how many people must it not speak of youth, and childhood, and the green fields, and all that has past since they used to stroll in them, and all the
hours they would willingly pass there again! For our parts, in spite of our ill health, it opened upon us at once such an agreeable sphere of creation, made up of health, and morning, and youth, and fresh air, and the flowers, that we could not help imagining the crier to be both young and handsome. The woman with doves on Irer head in one of Raphael's pictures could not have touched us more. It is true, had she turned out old and withered, she might not have touched us less :but we did not get up to see.de ise
FALSTAFF'S LETTERS.. [Agreeably to our plan of noticing such works as either demand a particular kind of introduction to the public, or do not appear to be appreciated as they deserve, we repeat a criticism written by a friend on the following Letters. Not long after it appeared in the Etaminer, the author, who was its subject, died. His name was James White; and many who knew nothing of him as a writer, will recollect being familiar with his name in the unromantic title of an Agent for Newspapers. Not the least indeed of his Shakspearian qualities, was an indifference to fame. IIe was also, like his great inspirer, a gentle
Ile was one among the many living writers, who passed their boyhood in Christ Hospital, where he held an office, sometime after quitting it. We remember, as he passed through the cloisters, how we used to admire his handsome appearance, and unimprovable manhier of wearing his new clothes.] • Original Letiers, &c. of Sir John Falstaff and his Friends; now first
made public bija Gentleman, a descendant of Dame Quickly, from genuine MSS. which have been in the possession of the Quickly Family near four hundred years."
copy of this work sold at the Roxburgh sale for five guineas. We havé both before and since that time picked it up at stalls for eighteenpence. Reader, if you shall ever light upon a copy in the same way, we counsel you to buy it. We are deceived if there be not in it much of the true Shakspearian stuff. We present you with a few of the Letters, which may speak for themselves :
PALSTAFF TO THE PRINCE. “I pr’ythee, Hal, lend me thy 'kerchief. An
thy unkindness liave not started more salle gouts down my poor old cheeh, than my good rapier hath of blood from foemen's gashes in five and thirty years' service, then am I very senseless mummy. I squander away in drinkings monies belonging to the soldiery! I do deny i they have bad part-the surplus is gone in charity- -accuse the parish.officers, make them restore—the whoreson wardens do now put on the cloak of supplication at the church doors, intercepting gentlemen for charity, forsooth !_'Tis a robbery, á villainous robbery! to come upon a gpütleman reeking with piety, God's book in his band, brimmill of the sacrament! Thou knowest, Hal, as I am but man. I dare in some sort leer at the plate and pass, but as I have the body and blood of Chrise within me, could I do it? An I did not make an oblation of a matter of ten pound
after the battle of Shrewsbury, in humble gratitude for thy safety, Hal, then am I the veriest transgressor denounced in God's code. But I'll see them damned ere rll be charitable again. Let 'em coin the plute-let them coin the holy chalice.”
THE SAME TO TIE BAYE.
“ Ha! ha! ha! And dost thou think I would not offer up ten pound for thee? yea, a bundred---morebut take heed of displeasing in thy sacrifice. Cain did bring a kid, yea, a firstling upon the altar, and the blaze ascended not. Abel did gather simple herbs, penny-royal, Hal, and mustard, a fourpenny matter, and the odour was grateful. I had ten pound for the holy offertory-mine ancient Pistol doth know it-but the angel did arrest my hand. Could I go beyond the word ?the angel which did stretch forth his finger, lest the good patriarch should slay his
- That Ned Poins hath more colours than a jay, more abuse than a taught pie, and for wit--the cuckow's dam may be Fool of the Court to him. I lie down at Shrewsbury out of base fear! I melt into roods, and acres, and poles! I tell thee what, Hal, there's not a subject in the land bath half my temperance of valour.Did I not see thee combatting the man-queller, Hotspur; jea, in peril of subduement? Was it for me to lose my sweet Hal without a thrust, having my rapier, my babergion, my good self about me? I did lie down in the hope of sberking him in the rib-four drummers and a fi fer did belp me to the ground:-didst thou not mark how I did leer upon thee from beneath my buckler? That Poins hath more scurrility than is in a whole flock of disqnieted geese.
“For the rebels I did conceal, thou should'st give me laud. I did think thou wert already encompassed with more enemies than the resources of man could prevent overwhelming thee; yea, that thou wert the dove on the waters of Ararat, and didst lack a resting-place. Was it for me to lieap. 1o. thy manifold disquiets? Was it for me to fret thee with the advice of more enemies than thou didst already know of? I could not take their lives, and therefore did I take their monics. I did fine them, lest they should escape, Hal, thou dost understand me, without chastisement; yea, I fined them for a punishment. They did make oath on the point of my sword to be true men :--an the rogues foreswore themselves, and joined the Welch man, let them look to izma’lis no 'peachment of my virtue.”
« Oh! I am sitting on a nest of the most unfledged cuckows that ever brooded under the wing of bawk. Thou must know, Hal, I had note of a good hale recruit or two in this neighbourhood. In other shape came I not; look to it, Master Shallow, that in other shape I depart not. Bui Lknow thou art ever all desire to be, admitted a Fellow Commoner in a jest. Robert Shallow, Esq. judgeth the hamlet of Cotswold. Dotlı not the name of judge liorribly chill thee With Aaron's rod in his hand, he hath the white beard of Moses on his chin. In goodsooth his perpetual countenance is not unlike what thou wouldst conceit of the momentary one of the lunatic Jew, when he tumbled God's tables from the mount. He hath a quick busy gair--more of this upright Judge (perpendicular as a pikeman's weapon, Hal), anoi). I would dispatch with these Bardolph ; but the kvave's hands-(I cry thee mercy) his mouth is full in preventing desertion among my recruits. An every liver among them haven't stood me in three and forty shilling, then am I a naughty escheator.-I tell thee what, Hal, I'd fight against my conscience for never a Prince in Christendom but thee.-Oh! this is a most damnable cause, and the rogues know it-they'll drink nothing but sack of three and I wopence a gallon; and i enlist me none but tall puissant fellows that would quaff me up Fleet-diteli, were it filled with sack-picked men, Hal-such as will shake my Lord of York's mitre. I pray thee, sweet lad, make speed--thou shalt see glorious deeds.”.
How say you, reader, do not these inventions smack of Eastcheap ? Are they not nimble, forgetive, evasive? Is not the humour of them elaborate, cogitabund, fanciful? Carry they not the true image and superscription of the father which begat them? Are they not steeped all over in character-subtle, profound, unctuous ? Is not here the very effigies of the Knight? Could a counterfeit Jack Falstaff come by these conceits? Or are you, reader, one who delights to drench