The Philadelphiad; or New pictures of the city: interspersed with a candid review and display of some first-rate modern characters of both sexes: delineated in a friendly and satirical manner, and containing sketches of the materials that distinguish the following places, viz. Court-house, new-jail, theatre, bagnio, hospital for lunatics, Bell's-Book-Store, State-House, and coffee-house. : With other entertaining anecdotes, humorous, moral and sentimental. : Vol. I[-II]. : [Three lines of quotations]

THE PHILADELPHIAD, &c.

Hominem Pagina nostra sapit. MARTIAL.

HAIL! happy land where Freedom smiles secure, Where no proud tyrant robs the thrifty poor, No empty lordling grasps the whole domain, Nor famish'd farmer tills the fruitful plain; Each peasant's cottage is his castle wall, And Boundless Liberty defends us all: No pompous monarch wields a scepter here; No sacrilegious bishop do we fear; All unrestrain'd, no pow'r but law can bind, Columbia's sons are free as passing wind.

Time out of mind the poets us'd to stray O'er groves and grotts to paint the rural day, Rumag'd each mead and garden to complete The rough appendage of some country seat; Or rack'd invention to pourtray a grove, That only harbour'd innocence and love, Or wildly painted on the grassy mound Some simple shepherd with his flocks around— From scenes like these, congenial to my heart, Half pleas'd, half forced, some useless hours I part, And through the city mark each vari'd scene, Tho' wanton folly lists her veil between.

" Sweet Philadelphia! lovliest of the lawn," Where rising greatness opes its pleasing dawn, Where daring commerce spreads th' advent'rous sail, Cleaves thro' the wave and drives before the gale, Where genius yields her kind conducting lore, And learning spreads its inexhausted store:— Kind seat of industry, where art may see, Its labours foster'd to its due degree, Where merit meets the due reward it claims, Tho' envy dictates and tho' malice blames:—

Thou fairest daughter of Columbia's train, The great emporium of the western plain; Best seat of science, friend to ev'ry art That mends, improves, or dignifies the heart; 'Tis thee I sing; thy various scenes display, And praise or blame or bring dark vice to day.

COURT-HOUSE.

"—Yes sir, a court-house!"—Pray explain for what, To mend old shoes or harbour senseless chat? Or lodge a Prince? Or be a school for law, Where scolding barristers expound a flaw?— Built for the law and for the public use, No empty head should here the seat abuse; No mean pretender should decree the cause, No vacant judge should here pronounce the laws; Justice is sacred; once its course debas'd, A nation's character is soon effac'd; Freedom unlaw'd may raise her banners high, But justice only lifts them to the sky.

'Tis strange to see some cyphers sit in state, To deal the law or hear the learn'd debate,

Decide on matters foreign to their skill, Led by dark precedent—more foreign still: Is men of worth, of real merit, scarce, That such should act this lawful laughing farce? Go search them out and let the laws be giv'n By those of genius favor'd most by heav'n, Clear, deep and tutor'd well in right and wrong, With head and heart to prompt a ready tongue, Bred to the bench and not for fortune made A judge by rule, a S. C. M. by trade— Tho' all are useful in their proper sphere, But reason tells me that it is not here. How would a cobler judge a cobler's plea? With partial verdict ev'ry eye may see; Or where's the merchant when the point's his own That would not wish his adversary thrown To raise his gain? And self-excus'd would say, " 'T was making money in an honest way?"

NEW-JAIL.

This is the house of misery supreme, Where sad misfortune bears the lash of blame, Where injur'd worth oft' finds the robbers doom Drags the great chain or meets the dungeon's gloom,

Of friends bereft; to social converse lost— How very few are friends when wanted most, Robb'd of the air and Heav'n-surrounding light, To which with life all beings have a right, And bears beside the "whips and scorns" of fate, The proud man's censure & the mean one's hate.

Siez'd by some feelless creditor severe, See bor'n along the victim of despair, Torn from his friends, his wife, his children dear, While round they cling & drop the pleading tear; His faithful partner, tender, full of love, Tries every art the officers to move, But vain alas! are wife's and children's tears, The law-led monsters hence the father bears, Their lord, their master, sole support, their all, Now gone the helpless family must fall— Nor wife's solicitude nor children's charms Now heal his grief, nor fill his longing arms; No more the little prattlers climb his knee, No kind domestic transport does he see No social scene that softer charms impart, But mournful all that strike with grief th'heart, Dark gloomy grates that half admit the light, The clanking fetter horrid to the sight,

The surly keeper, hard unpleasing fare,— All, all complete the measure of despair.

A CHARACTER; or A few traces in Crambo's Picture.

Yes you condemn the city and its ways, Applaud the country and its verdure praise, Sigh for the shade and seek the spreading trees Or court the fanning fond refreshing breeze.— Tell Crambo this—it throws him in the fits; " Lord, sir! the stupid soul has lost his wits— " Go mix with Indians! Quit the shining town!" He says with anger and a senseless frown; For well he minds the time he drove the team, Ere merchant dignifi'd his humble name. Then grogram jackets serv'd in place of silk, Instead of wine the kind nutricious milk; Then pennys sav'd were pennys to the last; He scrap'd & scrap'd, & as he scrap'd laid past; The whip, the spade, the plough was his resort, No frolicks saw him nor the mirthful sport. Some thirty pounds to city brings the swain, But mean low penury rewards with gain; A merchant soon he strutted like the rest, Spoke with the foremost, with the foremost drest;

Cash made him bold and ignorance gave face To follow what to others was disgrace; Grown fat at length and politic and great, See slaves of different colours round him wait. With formal wig and smooth unmeaning face, He reads the news and wishes for a place, Thinks all the judges are a pack of fools, Make him the chief and he'll prescribe new rules Turn wardens, sheriffs, justices out of doors And make a law to tax the city wh-r-s— But for the country—name not such a place, The very thought to Crambo is disgrace.

Think not I rail against the saving scheme, That I applaud, but empty pride I blame. If fortune smiles be modest and be wise, Nor let her smiles surround thee with disguise; Hide as you will and cover all you can Crambo appears conspicuous in thy van: Wit, genius, knowlege, breeding, learning, sense, Owe nought to pride, no aid receive from thence, And all these qualities can be display'd, And please as well in sustian as brocade.

COUNTRY CLOWN.

Just from the plough observe the country clown His first fond visit to the splended town, Round all he gazes rudely with delight, No foolish object 'scapes his wheeling sight: The lofty spires that seem to touch the skies, He wiews with wonder and with wild surprize Each shop and store where childrens toys are sold, He fancies magazines of countless gold, The stalls and signs with pleasure he surveys; Still disconcerted by surrounding drays, And crouds and fops, and noise, and "here's the news!" And thus he judges as the whole he views. " La! what a pow'r o' shining whokes are here! " 'Tis surely Sunday—all in dress appear; " A charming place for frolicks this indeed, " No corn to hoe, nor fields of wheat to weed, " I swear now, Jonathan, the town's delightful, " The country nasty, stupid, dull and frightful " And O whot kliver girls—so fine a sight!— " Our country hoydens is to these a fright, " There's Sall & Suk that shines the village toast, " Compar'd with these they'r negars at the most.

Poor simple soul! go tend the village team, Keep from the city and secure thy same. Beneath these cloths the tempting female wears, Lurk baneful cunning and delusive snares, And sweeter far the buxom country maid, Whom pride and prejudice hath ne'er betray'd; She healthful drinks the rosy-pinion'd gale, Fresh from the blossom or the grassy dale; Nor knows the arts the city wantons use, Who follow fashion and the mode pursues. Think not the toys which fondly you behold, Because they glitter, made of solid gold; And learn this lesson—seek content at home; 'Tis in the mind and not the clime we roam.

THEATRE.

The muse with sorrow sees th'virtuous stage, Sunk by the senseless bigots of the age; Where social sympathy was wont to charm, And frigid souls to kindred feelings warm; Soft 'rose the tear, the tender sigh was heard, And charm'd spectators thank'd the pleasing bard,

Each learn'd a lesson from the poets art And actors skill that dignifi'd the heart, While sister muses struck with moving ire The tragic note and wit-refining lyre: This held to view the scenes of tender grief, That taught the mind in mirth to seek relief; One painted sinking greatness in distress, The other drew the mirthful comic dress; Each lent its aid and allied lore produc'd, 'Till wanton folly scenes of love abus'd.— And for the slight transgressions of a few Must this amusement never rise to view, No moral scene nor virtue-winning page, Shewn by the actor, teach us from the stage?— Reason says no:—Go mind the faulty part, Redress the stage and raise the actors art.

Great Shakespear rages, Hamlet's ghost appears And lost Calista pours her soul in tears, The shade of Roscius round the scene does rave, While Garrick's spirit answers from the grave; Monimia weeps and Belvidera sighs, Brave Pierre bleeds and tender Jaffier dies, Alonzo doubts while Zanga aids the thought, And Richard trembles tho' he bravely sought;

The mighty Brutus wields the Roman steel, See Caesar fall! the world's great monarch reel; Poor Barnwell dies by Millwood's tempting art, See injur'd Essex from his Rutland part.— At scenes like these the tear would grace the eye, The soul would melt, th'heart would heave the sigh The mind impress'd would find a lesson here, And every heart would mend that dropt a tear.

Next Thalia's train, a num'rous train appears, The laughing ofspring of two thousand years; Thespis and Comus, Falstaff and the rest, Raise the gay smile and ope the sportive jest, While scenes of love by sentiment refind, Improve the tender touches of the mind. See generous Bevil aid the luckless fair, And young Sir George think Lucy worth his care; Hear boasting Bobadil display his heart, And simple Socia act a double part, And solemn Joseph with devotions zeal. Betray§ 1.1 Sir Peter and his honor steal.—

But oh! 'tis done—these pleasing scenes are fled And social, lib'ral, sentiment is dead; These tender strokes oft' painted on the stage, Have fall'n a victim to religious rage, Not the pure dictates heavenly thoughts inspire, But blazing bigotry's remorseless fire.

QUAKER.

The ambling Quaker glides along the street, With thee and thou, and friend and neighbour sweet, Rogue in her eye, religion in her look, With even pace that wanton ways rebuke— Just Penseroso with L'legroe's heart, A sad Melpomene in Thalia's part. Tho' seeming heedless of the passing throng, She quaintly eyes them as she moves along, Admires each spark and pants for every swain, Wishes them friends or that they dress'd as plain; For daddy never could endure a man Whose coat was cut to fashion's modish plan; He vows such fools are perfect frights to see; And for a wife!—they'll not find one in me; But Simeon Steady must make me a bride— O La! to have the statue by my side!—

I swear aunt Rachel that I'd rather die A maid at sixty than beside him lie,— Tho' daddy says he has a world of sense, And knows completely how to make the pence —But then to see his coat without a collar, His buckles just th'size of half a dollar, His smooth lank hair cut formal round his neck, His broad brimm'd hat that half-way shade his back, His shirt's so plain, his cravat smooth and long, And then, what stupid nonsense from his tongue! No, let me die and never be a wife Before I should with Simeon spend my life. Such is the Quaker's self-denying ways, They outward blame what most they inward praise, Think it a sin that man should dress a-mode, As if a coat or hat offended God. Reason the matter and debate it o'er, He's still tenacious as he was before, A perfect bigot wedded to his notion, Who proves that silence is the best devotion; But contradict him in his steady ways? " Friend thee is wrong", or "knows thee what thee says?"

Yet there are some whose views are unconfin'd, Who scorn the bigot principle of mind, Who see religion in its proper view, Knows what is prejudice and what is true, Pursues the road which reason says is best, And thinks the Roman with the Quaker blest.

THE UNIVERSAL MOTIVE.

" 'Tis from high life high characters we trace, " A judge in lawn is twice a judge in lace;" A county member shines with double glare, When he to sessions drives his new gilt chair; Then plodding fools will take him by the hand, The chair, like magic, friendship can command, The self-same man on foot may trudge along, Unknown to all the friendly knowing throng. A worthy cobler long might beat the stone, Before his trade could make his merits known; But let some god, as fable sings of old, Descend a show'r of man-betwitching gold— Then he is equal both in sense and breeding, (For money cancels ev'ry want of reading.). To M-rr-s, H-p-k-ns, Maevius and the rest, Of tip-top folks that here are thought the best.

Hail! sacred drug! thou cure for ev'ry pain, To foolish man both antidote and bane; Life-giving nostrum, death-dispensing rod, That works such wonders not inspir'd by God, The selfish motive for each nobler deed, That guards the worthless while the virtuous bleed Brib'd by thy pow'r the virgin sells her all, The desp'rate heart for murder hears thy call, For you the merchant tempt's th'dangrou's deep For you the miser robs himself of sleep, For you mechanics ply the forming tool, For you the knowing knave will act the fool, For you the lawyer proves that black is white, For you the judge will say that wrong is right, For you the coward fights with courage fell, For you the general will his army fell,† 1.2 For you the clergy (heav'nly sons below) Will cure our sins and heal each mental woe, For you the world, with unremitting toil, Builds tow'ring hopes on Fortune's faithless spoil; And men may call their actions what they will, But gold's their motive universal still.

A CHARACTER* 1.3 or a Portrait of the young Haberdasher.

A modest citizen unknown to pride, With unstain'd character did here reside; His honest industry increas'd his worth, And cur'd the humble blemish of his birth; He liv'd belov'd, regretted when he di'd, By even those his honest cash suppli'd.— His son alas! no more is like the fire Than I to Jove array'd in wrathful ire; He shines a blockhead and forgets his breedin A fool made more impertinent by reading; A vain blank animal that brags of wit, With scarce a quality for business fit; An empty coward,—cruel too of course, Mean in his pleasures, in his passions worse: Boastful he counts his dirty low amours, His grovling spirit's pleas'd with common wh-

A poor deluded female of the street To him is pleasing and to him is sweet: To finish all and make the picture known, His best associates in the back are thrown, Low pimps and blackguards that can rudely talk To harmless females as they harmless walk.

BAGNIO.

Turn we to view the Bagnio's horrid scene, Tho' modest virtue lifts her veil between; Where tender sympathy should touch the heart, And soft benevolence distend its part, The tender tear should glisten in the eye, For injur'd innocence demands the sigh; The social throb should faulter in the breast To see the relicks of the fair distress'd, No wanton heart should triumph o'er the maid Whom some low villain roguishly betray'd, But ev'ry aid humanity dilate, To mourn or mend the wand'ring females fate.

Now see the youth by facination led, Court the low raptures of the harlot bed, His sad dark vigils nightly here to keep, Where dire compunction robs the wretch of sleep;

Delusive joys betray his tender heart, Ensnar'd, bewilder'd by the wanton's art; The leg half-naked and the breast quite bare, With all the studied ornament of hair, The garments loose to raise the warm desire, And touch the passions with a keener fire, Her syren voice that captivates the ear, With tempting gestures and inviting leer: These move his heart and youthful mind em|ploy, 'Till fated pleasure proves 'tis baneful joy.

Here lurks the bully, (horror in his face) The shame of nature and his own disgrace; A beastly pander duteous to the call, A slave, a pimp, a tool, a knave to all.

Next see the matron's well-dissembled looks, With pious prejudice for heav'nly books, A nun-procuress; devotee quite sad; With good monitions but with actions bad, Prone to deceive and watchful to beguile, To trap th' unwary female with her smile, Or specious presents seeming fair and kind, She ready makes to win the thoughtless mind,

Talks in one breath of minister and wh-r-, Of young debauchers and of famisht poor, Quotes scripture scraps to shew her orthodox, Next tells that Sall and Suk has not the p—.

MARIANA AND EDWIN.

When injur'd innocence attracts the eye, Lives there a man that can repress the sigh? Will social sympathy not lend a share, To sooth or solace or support the fair? Or beats the heart that cannot feel distress, When speechless pity silent claims redress? If such there be—O bear the niggard soul Where frigid seasons half condense the pole.

Sweet Mariana! lovliest of the throng, The fairest maid that walk'd thy banks along, Soft flowing Lagan!—(where I us'd to leave My youthful limbs amid thy polish'd wave, And on thy margin early in the morn With Gaston* 1.4 shook the dew-drop off the thorn, Or through old Cromac sought the colar shade, Where aged oaks their verdant branches spread,

There Thomson's page first taught me to admire The rural scene, and string the doubtful lyre,) —Tall, graceful, elegant, designed to please, A modest dignity she join'd with ease, A face as fair as beauty's queen displayed, When yielding waves bestow'd the charming maid; These graces too accompany'd sense refin'd, Learning the brightest jewel of the mind: Such was the youthful Mariana's charms, That kindle love and sensual thoughts disarms

An early band of wealthy suitors came, Whose lands were merit and whose gold were fame; This wished her hand and that to gain her strove, But 'mong their pleadings never spoke of love, Each thought, but vainly, his estate in land Should all obedience and respect command.

Among the rest young Edwin§ 1.5 gently came And bashful blushing told his tender flame, Sweet Mariana listened as he spoke, And soon the sigh of self-conviction broke;

Her fault'ring breath could scarce the word compose, While o'er her cheek the vermil symptom glows, Her wounded heart with palpitations strong, Robb'd of its eloquence the nimble tongue. But Edwin ignorant in ways of love, Thought not his words of artless truth could move, Simply he deem'd they some offence convey'd, And bowing pleaded pardon from the maid. A candid passion can't be long conceal'd, And soon their mutual wishes were reveal'd, Reveal'd alas to be their mutual smart Not the solicitude that charms the heart.

What bounds can hold the heart when love inspires, What object stay or turn the fond desires Not all Potosia's riches laid to view Could swerve the lover when his passion's true; Teem India's treasures to his ready eye, And heedless still he'll for his mistress sigh: Reason itself with love has little force— It surely rises from some noble source.

Young Edwin's fortune was but charms and sense, And Maria's father doated on his pence; A wealthy match was all his heart desir'd, Heedless if love or tenderness inspir'd; So when his daughter's wishes first he knew, He swell'd with anger and in passion flew, Rage fill'd his bosom and revenge his heart, And quickly plann'd the faithful pair to part.

War then with horror spread its dread alarms Took sires and sons from wives and mothers arms, This fell a victim, that with dread beheld, The frightful terrors of th' embattled field; Then Mariana's father laid it so That prov'd young Edwin to the King a foe, Straight had him seiz'd and charg'd as for a spy; Himself the judge the injur'd youth to try.

What could he hope from innocence itself, When perjur'd prejudice for worldly pelf Fill'd the broad seat where justice should prevail, And hold aloft her ne'er-belying scale?—

Doom'd to the gallows see the victim led, While round the croud their tears unceasing shed The sob of sympathy in ev'ry breast, Their tender pity and their grief confest.— He fondly begg'd but just to see his love, But all in vain, his pleadings could not move: Tore from the world in perfect bloom and health He di' d a sacrifice to sordid wealth.

At home made fast, by servants too secure, Soft Mariana must her lot endure. But guess, if narrow fancy can compose, The pangs of anguish and the wrings of woes, That tore her heart and ev'ry sense awoke, When first her sire of Edwin's murder spoke! Life hing'd on hope will fall when hope's no more, Th' spirit wand'ring seeks some happier shore; So Maria's hopes unhing'd no more could turn, But falling verg'd distractions hopeless bourn. Her eye was clos'd—it open'd—shut again— Then life restor'd her to severer pain.

Too late alas! the father loos'd his child, When she as quickly all his hopes beguil'd, She left his house and sought a better fare, Than that she found beneath his feeless care.

First to the city, by distraction led, With heedless steps the luckless mourner sped; Here soon a noted matron mark'd the maid, And soon as mark'd her hopeless heart betray'd; She saw her innocence and play'd her part, With all the cruel cunning of her art, Deceiv'd the mournful fugitive of love, From kinder hopes of happiness above, Undid, seduc'd and ruin'd ev'ry charm That 'waits on virtue or can vice disarm.

Innur'd in all the horrors of her fate, Reflection touched her—but alas! too late: When sleepless conscience 'woke the busy tho' Dire dissipation its condolement wrought; " Another spoiler and another came, " The first was welcome and the last the same, 'Till every tender feeling was effac'd, And in their place sad anguish fill'd the breast Nor now the Bagnio's troubles did she dread, For all her softer sentiments were fled— Yet if some youth should ask what bro't her there The question drew th' involuntary tear,

And keen rememb'rance swell'd her troubl'd breast; But true repentance was a transient guest.

Chance turn'd it so her brother met her here, But she so chang'd and alter'd did appear, He knew her not. He harrass'd thro' the wars, So strangely altered, and disguis'd with scars, She ne'er suspected 'twas her brother prest, In am'rous dalliance oe'r her injured breast— But passion pausing stopp'd to hear her tale, Else had the scene been horrid to reveal.

" Beside the Lagan, gentle flowing stream, " My father liv'd, a man of wealthy fame, " Two rising children claim'd his kindest care, " A daughter—I, and only son his heir. " A sordid lover wish'd to gain my hand, " My father too preferr, d his strict command; " But oh! my heart was to another giv'n, " And Edwin's charms were all my hopes of Heav'n, " No wealth he had, and this my father saw, " Devis'd his murder through perverted law— " Then nothing pleas'd depriv'd of joys so dear; " I fled my father and was flatter'd here."—

—" Oh! Heav'ns 'tis she! my dear lost sis|ter see, " That brother mention'd and that heir is me " But leave this house where sin and death doe dwell, " Retrieve thy ruins from the jaws of hell— " O Mariana! injured and distrest! " Come child of sorrow to my willing breast

Restor'd again to glad relations arms, And rais'd to virtue with its kindred charms, She fled the world and all its tempting wiles, Where cunning cruelty the wretch beguiles, And by repentance and conviction true, Where holy sisters hallowed rites pursue, Deep in the convent injur'd Heav'n to please, She pass'd a life of piety and ease.

HOSPITAL FOR LUNATICS.

What various pictures changeful man appears In youth, in love, in learning and in years, In arts, in arms, in genius, madness last; What then is youth, love, genius, learning past; Great Swift the pride and terror of the world Sunk to this state, by madness he was hurl'd,

His daring flights were levell'd with the low, Down to a moving spectacle of woe; Then admiration ceas'd and pity came, Awaken'd keener by his shining fame,— Yet all his piercing genius could not save His understanding from confusion's grave. God lent him genius, art supply'd him lore, But robb'd of reason these could shine no more. Reason's the man, whate'er, the fool may say, It clearly guides him from each beastly way: Take this, what then? he's beast or what you will, A human figure without human skill. Reason's to life what life is to the man, It humanizes nature's skillful plan; Without it man is but the human form, That wears his shape like bird, beast, fish or worm.

Here see the maniac raging round his cell, And to the walls his roving sorrows tell, Still in his eye he sees the talking croud, And questions freely and converses 'loud; Strongly impress'd by some distresses past, The only thoughts that haunt him to the last—

Then he complains—scarce thinks about his fate— Sometimes he's happy in this mournful state, Counts o'er his lands, his houses, fortunes, friends In nameless thousands on his finger ends; Then doubtful reason wakes him from his dream, Lost are his lands, his fortunes, friends & fame, 'Where am I! 'tis not my wonted home indeed, He says, and then his heart begins to bleed; Distress o'erwhelms, madness comes again, And 'wakes a new the mental roving flame— He starts—then pauses—stares then looks around— Then talks—now stops and listens for a sound, Lost state of nature! awful madness hail! Muse snatch the phrenzy and its flights reveal. Ah! see the ruins faithless love has made In the 'lorn damsel wantonly betray'd, The sad deceiver of her youthful heart Completes the mournful measure of her smart Still in her mind the foremost and the last, She doats unceasing on their moments past. With hands enclaspt and low dejected eye Speechless she sits and vents the rising sigh;

But seldom weeps; for grief when most severe Is ne'er distinguish'd by the falling tear; And silent hears her visitors request To know the loaded troubles of her breast— But if they chance the perjur'd dog to name, The faithful fool is boundless in his fame.— " Yes he was fair—and promis'd fairer too— " He's marri'd now—are you his wife?—be true?— " And tell me right—Oh no, he's dead they say, " But yet me thought I had him t'other day— " Go fetch him quick, and say Maria sends— " No stop—'twould get him anger from his friends.— " Sweeter than roses!—yes I pull'd these flow'rs " To deck my lover!—but he's gone ye pow'rs. " He'll surely come to night—ah no he'll not, " Poor lost Maria is by him forgot. " My little angel too is gone to heav'n— " Won'tall our sins—yes yes they'll be forgiv'n." Thus floats her brain as fleeting fancy teems Her frantic pictures o'er her waking dreams.

IRISH BEAUTY.

An Irish beauty's not a thing so rare, But Irish virtue often makes us stare; The charms of face are little to the mind, 'Tis from the sentiments the soul we find; The noblest actions are the best display'd When foil'd by fortune and when undismay'd; But he who bends at fortune's worldly shrine, Scarce ranks superior to the grovling s-w-i-n-e: The man who sells his happiness for gold, Should like a Smithfield horse himself be sold; A worthy action adds to charms of face, But sordid marriage marks it with disgrace.

THE FOP.

At ev'ry corner and in ev'ry street Some gaudy useless animal we meet, Resembling men in nothing but their shape, Their truest lineage is the friskful ape: These are distinguish'd by the rank and name Of Well bred gentlemen, that notice claim, But those who judge with reason on their side. Conclude them Fops and of their worth decide.

Observe the thing its gaudy pinions spread, Pride in its eye with sense inverted head;

Vain son of folly empty child of show, Proud of the blank distinction of a beau. Now nicely dress'd, just from his barber loose, The stalking semblance of a country goose; Mark how he walks, as if he trod on eggs; Now views his waistcoat, then surveys his legs, His dogskin shoes (for calf would hurt his toes) His knees adorn'd with party colour'd bows, His monst'rous buckles, just the Paris mode. Their use unknown, except his feet to load, Or when he walks with nicely picking tread, Perhaps the serve for ballast to his head; His scarlet coat, that ev'ry one may see, Mark and observe and know the fool is he, With buttons garnish'd, sparkling in a row On sleeves and breasts and skirts to make a show, His waistcoat too with tinsel shining o'er, His cravat knotted in a bow before, His empty head with powder loaded deep, Wings to the same of formal cut and sweep, With three-cock'd hat and loop and button bright, And open mouth to shew his teeth are white,

With spread umbrella—not to guard from rain, Nor shade the sun...but just complete his train, For sun or rain he seldom dare invade, One spoils his face, the other spoils his head,— Now to complete the figure nice and vain, Send quick to Paris and procure a cane, With head of ivory and gold inlaid, A pinchbeck ferril by some artist made, A spangled tassel to put round his wrist, Green kid-skin gloves to guard his lilly fist:— This is the picture of a modern beau, Which men of sense despise as well as know.

No doubt, good reader, you have seen dis|play'd, A soapy bubble that an atom weigh'd, Blown from a pipe by some inventful boy, To please his gazing breth'ren with the toy; Just so the fop with ev'ry gew-gaw rare, Shines forth a bubble empty as the air.

Shew one a book and prove't has wit enough, Why, Lard sir! sure you do not read such stuff The whole day long I never read a page; I vow the present is a stupid age; We'll soon be Goths and Vandals without breed|ing—

What! quit the ton and follow musty reading! No, dam'me, no! we lads of spirit live In all the joys which art and fashion give.

MISFORTUNES OF A FOP.

Tom Tug a tar, with toddy half-seas over, Espi'd Jack Tinsel just arrived from Dover, Zounds, Dick, says he, observe the fail a-head, Full rigg'd by Jove, with all his canvass spread, Tho' damn his eyes, the bouger's not from France— Come, lend a hand, we'll learn him how to dance. Tom straight accosted in the seaman's stile, And Jack—your humble Sir—with modern smile; "What ship, my heart!" The fop he look'd about; Tom wanted nothing but to have a rout. " Come strike my lad, and shew your neat dis|guise, " What—finer than our Captain! damn your eyes!"

Jack trembling stood and wonder'd what I meant, Pray, d to the pope and then invok'd each fair. But all in vain, for Tom must have his bout, When grog is in all nonsense will be out. Strip! was the word, and Jack must here com|ply, Poor fine dress'd gentleman! observe him cry While mirthful Tom and comrades laugh to se Half-naked Jack appear in true degree: His fine lace ruffles to his finger ends From half bleach'd sheeting thin and raw de|pends; Nor in his waistcoat backs of any kind; His green silk breeches grafted blue behind, With all his trappings of a piece with these, Behind a fright, before designed to please.— But Tom thought Jack had punishment com|plete, To be the scoff and scandal of the street, Turn'd him a-drift and charg'd him as a friend, His dress to alter and his sense to mend; It costs you more, by Jove, to make you fools, Than 'twould to get you learning from the schools.

THE SON OF NEPTUNE.

Worth in whatever sphere, should have a nitch, Altho' 'tis seldom gain'd but by the rich, The fault is owing to misguided pride, That judge's merit with blind fortune's guide. When Britain held the bold tyrannic rod, And cry'd "Ye slaves obey our sov'reign nod," The patriot sons of virtue took the flame, And fill'd the lists with hardy deeds of fame: Amongst the first, the boldest and the best, Brave Barry stands intrepidly confest.

BELL's BOOK-STORE.

Just by St. Paul's, where dry divines rehearse, Bell keeps his store for vending prose and verse, And books that's neither—for no age nor clime, Lame languid prose begot on hobb'ling ryme.

Here authors meet who ne'er a sprig have got, The poet, player, doctor, wit and sot; Smart politicians wrangling here are seen, Condemning Jeffries or indulging spleen,

Reproving Congress or amending laws, Still fond to find out blemishes and flaws; Here harmless sentimental-mongers join To praise some author or his wit refine, Or treat the mental appetite with lore From Plato's, Pope's and Shakespear's endles store: Young blushing writers, eager for the bays, Try here the merit of their new-born lays, Seek for a patron, follow fleeting fame, And begs the slut may raise their hidden name.

Poor helpless race of mortals here below! With hearts to feel and melt for others woe: Harmless, oft' useless; indolent, oft' vain; How very few have found with genius gain! How very few hath genius raised from want!— Fortune to genius deals her favours scant. 'Tis ten to one had genius fir'd my breast, I had been poor and needy like the rest, Pinch'd for a meal, or for a dollar su'd, By some mean creditor with feelings rude; But thanks to fortune for her shining store. I'm rich enough and seldom wish for more.

LAWYER LEWD-IS.

A man unprincipl'd in virtues school, That acts iniquity as if by rule; What can be hop'd from such a man as this, That takes his—to be his miss!— And then when both his appetite disgust, In Mrs. C-II—s he can put his trust, That noted matron still can find a wh—e, There Lawyer L—ligs with Hannah Moore.— In court he stalks and talks without a reason, And oft' 'gainst common sense commits high treason,— This sketch may shew how often k-aves grow great When honest folks can scarce afford to eat.

The IRISH WORTHY;§ 1.6 Or Hospitable Batchelor. A CHARACTER.

Least you should think misanthrophy is seen, Or that I write thro' envy or the spleen,

Or deal out satire with a wanton hand, On those that softer touches should command; I now produce a character to view, One of the good and worth-distinguish'd few. Hibernia's bow'rs his youthful days partook, Till manhood came, her charms he then forsook, Columbia hail'd him—own'd him as her child; Here wealth and grandeur o'er his efforts smil'd: From honest labour honest riches flow'd, And fortune's favors lib'ral were bestow'd; But not to spoil as oft' we see they do; With these came worth and real greatness too; And native hospitality to cheer The num'rous guests that at his board appear; Pleas'd with their social converse while they sit, He charms the glass with life-refining wit: No dull discourse his ev'ning hours betray, But manly pastime or amusive play. Friend to each art, the poets patron to, And from him merit ever meets its due; Distress unaided never left his door, "For God has made him agent to the poor." A whig from principle—he loves his friend— Such is the man I freely now commend.

THE EMIGRANT.

See the lone emigrant just come on shore, Far from relations which he'll see no more, Far from his native country where he spent The playful moments youthful pleasure lent; Thrown here unfriended, fortune to appease, Or endless vain cur'osity to please: His father, mother, brother, sister dear, Dropt at his parting many a tender tear, And sobb'd and wish'd th'adventurer to stay, Nor brave the dangers of the raging sea. But all their kind monitions were in vain, For fate decreed the youth to cross the main.

Some rustic relics of paternal care, His mindful mother ready does prepare; The woolly garments, shirts & stockings strong, The crock of butter and the old neat's tongue, The new laid eggs and cheese ne'er cut before, With bread and spirits to complete his store. Then to the beach his com'rades true conveys, This for his wealth, and that his safety prays, Each in his turn sincerely shakes his hand, And wish him safely to his destin'd land.

Scarce had the prow its canvass pinions spread When dizzy sickness seiz'd his giddy head, Dim grows the land, the surging billows roar, 'Twas then alas! he wish'd himself on shore; Sadly he gaz'd and took his last adieu, Its charms but rising as it sunk to view.

Unhappy Europe! thus thy children stray To shun thy tyrants of remorseless sway, Down from the knavish minister of state To kindred lackeys that around him wait, All, all combine to hurt the needy poor, "To spurn imploring famine from the door."

THE YOUNG HIBERNIAN† 1.7 Or genteel Merchant.

Accept my friend the tribute of a lay, Unknown to flatt'ry or fastidious sway; What friendship dictates freely here I write, No praises deal nor censures throw through spite

Thy nicer feelings, nicely too refin'd, Needs not the grov'ling principle of mind, And modest worth within thy breast conceal'd, Would blame the muse if she that worth reveal'd. Pass then the phrases babling bards bestow, These juster trifles, J—, from candour flow.

Ah! cruel Delia why to J—severe? He claim'd thy ev'ry kindest, sweetest care; No swain so tender e'er could fill thy arms Nor taste with truer gratitude thy charms— Witness ye bow'rs where both together stray'd, While sense enraptur'd sentiment betray'd, The length'ning walk, 'till sober ev'ning came, And warn'd you home to save your tender fame! Doom'd by thy frown, he crost the western main, To beat the common beaten tract for gain. May kindest success trown thy wishes here, And fortune favours fortune labours cheer, With years of health and happiness complete, Content and ease and independance sweet.

LAWYER FILSON, Or the Spectacl'd Pleader.

When British politicks ran furious high, The dastard sons of slav'ry cast an eye—

A blasting eye!—on infant freedom's cause, And secret sought the tyrant's mean applause: Those secret enemies were worst of all, We little fear'd the cannons pointed ball— Now we should favour those that rais'd the state, Nor suffer tories freely to debate— Then cease on W—n, favours to bestow, For all the city knows he was our foe.

DOCTOR R—S H.

"Stop!" says the muse "your satire, dealing hand, " Nor modest characters disgraceful brand, " Deal round the lash on empty pamper'd pride, " And teach presumption ignorance to hide, " O'er plodding knaves devote the scorging rod, " And bid them fear the just revengeful God"

Enough, my muse; I own thy errless sway, And ready still thy dictates I obey— Worth should be sacred, merit should be rais'd, For this alone our Doctor, should be prais'd, Then take, my friend the praise of one unknown, That but commends, for virtue's sake alone.

STATE HOUSE.

'Tis fair that public characters should be To private censure as to favor free, That all may watch, that all may judge their ways, And blame with freedom or commend with ease. If men in office act an upright part, Unled by meanness and unsway'd by art, That claims no wonder from the babbling throng, We pay for acting right and not for wrong. If Bumbo's acts his office doth disgrace, Why—turn the servile blockhead from his place; Put in Aurelius, give him Bumbo's pay, Then public money won't be thrown away. While C—'s merits shine with splendor bright, Support his worth in canker'd envy's spite: Give W—pow'r, strip T—of what he has, And bid the fool go bray with brother Ass. D—takes a nap while some good law is pass'd, And deaf-ear'd R—with wonder cries, "what was't."

How very mean a thing may have seat, To swell the minutes of some low debate, While constituents think him quite profound In state affairs and words of stately sound. Here Cl—r* 1.8 talk o'er what he talk'd before, And Br—n* 1.9 set all the members in a roar, And Colonel—strive to mend a point, Where sense and reason both are out of joint, While surly Yellow-wig still bites his thumb, And harmless, useless, J—remains quite dumb; But when the speaker calls the yeas and neas, He asks what side his neighbour's judgment sways,

So he inclines—but knows no reason why— His friend advis'd him—and he can't deny. Bright Tommy S—s when arguments run scarce, Turns the debate to some evasive farce, Or hammers out, with dullness from his brain, Some languid stuff that gives his hearers pain; Idioms and blunders flow without restraint, Till C—starts his ignorance to paint, Then faith I pity handkerchief and nails, They suffer greatly when his nonsense fails.

Once, I remember, Tom was very bold, When quoting Roman luxury of old: " We the Gardeens of all the state," he said, Then cough'd and haugh'd and strok'd his brainless head, " Should banish taste and luxury from hence, " And plays of course—these shock all com|monsense; " Rome, Sir, was great, 'till plays reduc'd her fame; " Her modern sons are nothing but a name,

" Misled by luxury's alluring shine, " They water'd plants profusely with their wine"§ 1.10 Here Tully thunder....see the list'ning throng Admire each accent from his pleasing tongue; All winning eloquence he wields at will, And speaks unaw'd with candour and with skill; His country's welfare still is in his thought.... That country which his blood has partly bought; With other sons of steady worth he toil'd Till Britain's arts of tyranny were foil'd.

DOCTOR HUTCHERSHINS.

See how the Dr. waddles through the throng, With Falstaff's belly, Liliputian's tongue, A beef-head bully—some has said a calf,— And that a goose has got more brains by half— That may be true—and further of this nibbler, Some folks have said that he's a party scribbler; Of this I ne'er shall envy him a jot For faith I pity ev'ry scribbler's lot.

LAWYER VANNBOAST.

This pert young blade of Quirk goes through the town, With air and gesture as it were his own, A saucy swagger and a pamper'd stalk, A wild-set hat and trudging footman's walk, Long sweeping ruffles, handsome flaxen hair, With open mouth and eyes that ever stare— And to these merits set adult'ry down, Because he often acts it in this town.— Young men should ever modest be, you know, Because a fool's synonymous with beau; Fine cloaths are nought but liv'ry when they'r wore, By those whose worth is not than servants more.

Dr. PHAETON alias CLAPSON.

None but a fool would fee a Doctor high, (Ev'n was the patient ready then to die) Without he visited in coach and four, For doctor Katterfelto could do more: A splendid phaeton makes up want of sense, And doubly serves to draw the needy pence; For who could doubt his wond'rous skill to cure, Who drives a Phaeton and prescribes to poor?

If students dull are pinch'd to get degrees, Why, Provost, Doctors, Masters must have fees, And then you'll get your grand diploma out— Procure a coach, and raise a mighty rout; Four firey, prancing, handsome, well-match'd greys, Or else as many long-tail'd sprightly bays, Then you may laugh at heav'n and hell and devil, But mind....be always to plebeians civil.

DOCTOR SKIPPEN.

Whene'er your horse is troubled with the gout, Apply to S......he can drive it out; Give him but cash he'll turn the old to young, For S.....can do wonders with his tongue; No farther seek his merits to disclose, His ration actions ev'ry body knows. Poor luckless soldiers too can tell with grief His skillful aid, and social kind relief; If stores could speak "they could a tale unfold Would scare e'en fraud and make his blood run cold."

CAPIAS F-NL-Y.

This man demands some miscellaneous praise, His name to publish and his worth to raise, For all his merits ne'er could make him known How stupid are the people of this town!— But jokes a-part.—The grave beef-headed blade Might have made money at the cobbling trade, Look in his face, it tells you all his mind, His brains are gravy, and his wit is wind.

DOCTOR DALWANEY.

Some say the Doctor fattens in his place, And some declare 'twill load him with disgrace, Some say 'twas wrong to loose his member's* 1.11 name, But where's the man that would not do the same? Men when they take an office in their hands, Should place themselves in firm well footed stands, Or else the sidelong waggish bullets thrown, Will often knock the heedless caitiff down. When state accounts are furnish'd, have a care That Irish blunders are not notic'd there.

Enjoy the profits which preferment brings, Tho' satire's bullets round thy office rings; Laugh at the fools and act an upright part, Then malice ne'er shall give thee conscious smart.

PETER WHY-S-COFF.

As candour marks the characters a-pace, Each by his fav'rite lineament of face, The artless muse pourtrays them in her lines, Where stricking looks of noted features shines. If virtue blasted and if worth condemn'd Demanded praise—this man is virtue's friend— For lost to ev'ry feeling of the heart, That worthier acts of virtue can impart; With cunning arm'd and gold to force his way He strives to make the luckless heart his pray.

MISS **** **** Or the Old Maid.

See Florizel of Front-street flirt along, The very scoff and scandal of the throng. Patches and paints replac'd with daily care Her fading features and her charms repair.

Not all those charms could Tommy **** allure For babbling fame had said she was a wh— 'Tis much the same, or whether right or wrong; Sweethearts were num'rous while the nymph was young, These she despis'd—her pride was to dispise— Till once she lost the lustre of her eyes— Men had their sight—beheld her fading charms And saw her robb'd of all her cupid's arms— No pleading swains her ev'ning trains now swell And soon the nymph must lead her apes in hell.

The amiable MISS NA-CY W—

In what kind region shall th' wand'ring muse Her soft comparisons and beauties choose, To tell the charms that deck her lovely face, To note her youthful dignity and grace? Her modest looks her rising worth presage, To gild the sober ev'ning of her age; And mantling blushes spreading o'er her cheek Proclaim a soul of placid sweetness meek.

The aimable Miss P ***** Or Chesnut-street Charmer.

When I forget thy charms fair maid to sing, Be my tongue mute and winter blast the spring.

No lovlier nymph Columbia's plains adorn, Pride of her sex, beyond the wanton's scorn. Wit without impudence, and sense refin'd, In sweet Miss P***** artlessly are join'd; A nameless dignity unites with ease, And graceful step that ev'ry eye must please. A form so fair, so free from empty pride, Deserves a mate superior by her side— May some kind youth with merits like thy own With fondest love untie thy virgin zone.

Mrs. C**** or the agreeable wife.

Give way ye dowdies 'till one face be seen, 'Tis virtue's patern and 'tis beauty's queen: In Mrs. C*** the graces all combine, To form a lovely female quite divine— Be patient ladies!—envy not her praise, Her merits far exceeds my simple lays.

RECEIPT To get a Seat in the Grand Assembly.

Assembly-mongers, mind October's near, The golden harvest comes but once a year; Begin your canvass,—bluster to the county, And swear mechanics should receive a bounty:

(A tradesman's vote is equal to a lord's, 'Tis not the men or money, but their words.) Promise to mend the laws and raise the state, And in the public business toil and sweat; Be always sure you ever say enough— Gain but the seat, no matter how you puff; And libel freely all the junto round, In this experience oft' reward has found; Sensure the Censors, promise better rules, And call the Council—just a pack of fools. Whene'er the patriot fills thy breast with fire,— I mean the rage that money doth inspire;— Compose thy head and write a long address, In which all public good you must profess; Put in some hints of public service past, And, 'twixt ourselves, you here may safely blast— A broad bold phrase has often done a deal; Some thoughts and words from Junius you may steal, Mix'd with your own they'll pass for your in|diting, And constituents mostly love good writing;

Hard words are best, for then they think you learn'd, And wisdom only is by learning earn'd; 'Tis true, the critics may detect your stile, But you can palm these blockheads with a smile. Run to the papers, put it in them all,— Next week you find the county sends a call. Then swear again the honor is too great— But you accept it—just to save the state.

Then when the day of firey trial's come, Prepare your music, fiddle, fife and drum; Hire half the lawless blackguards in the town You'll get a number ready for a crown, Give each a pack of tickets in his hand, Be sure you place him in a proper stand, There bid him bawl at ev'ry passer-by, Call you a God!—No, that wou'd be a lie— Well, you'r Lycurgus—Aristides just, 'Tis such as you the public ought to trust; Bribe all the petty constables in town, To wheedle votes and gull the country clown- And last, take care their spirits well to cheer With grog and cakes and Reuben Haines's beer

Tho' cyder's cheapest,—but it wants the fire, And grog or beer the voters best inspire— Now all is o'er, and tho' the toil was hard, Your seat and prospects are a great reward. Next day the public papers shew your name, And hail you foremost in the field of fame. Now that you'r in, observe what side has pow'r On that your praises and your favors show'r, But never mind the men that put you there, Make self and pelf your sole pursuit and care, For this, secundem artem, is the way To get in office and increase your pay.

Now party sticklers choose their tool to vote, Were't ev'n to cut the Constitution's throat; They call him quite the Cic'ro of the house, Altho' his sense was never worth a louse; Their ends but gain'd they care not for the state, Nor who is high or low, nor mean or great.

PRESIDENT D-K-NS-N, Or the Father of the Commonwealth.

The muse, Mecaeneas, eager still for fame, Adorns her page with thy immortal name,

Conscious from thence her verse shall never die, Tho' malice blast and envy's tongue decry; Fain would she paint thy nobleness of soul, Thy love of freedom that conducts the whole, Thy piercing genius, politic and great, Charg'd with the weighty business of the state, Thy letter'd wisdom, patriotic fire, With all the thoughts that virtue can inspire— Fain she would paint thy worthiness of heart, But vain is ev'ry effort of her art.—

THE SENTIMENTAL IRISHMAN.

A worthy son of old Hibernia's race, With manly port and dignity of face, Whose native hospitality is great, Mark'd with the splendid equipage of state; Whose patriot merit points him out for praise, That soar beyond the measure of my lays;— Each genuine whig admires his nobler spirit, No truer Paddy ever toasted claret. Always secure from Fortune's faithless hand, He holds her gilded treasure at command; Distends the gold which Heav'n has kindly sent. His lib'ral hand oft' shews his good intent.

His native country where his youth he pass'd, Lives in his heart the foremost and the last; Its wand'ring sons partake his gen'rous aid, And feeling friendship here is best display'd, No niggard penury betrays his soul, But social kindness dignifies the whole; His nobler motives from no meaness spring, He lives like th' son of some old Irish King.

COFFEE HOUSE, with a group of its well known visitors.

What various faces here we thronging view, From Nova-Zembla down to swart Peru, Met for the mutual benefit of each, To gather news or useless lore to teach; Here men of straw* 1.12 with men of fortune meet, And men of neither both familiar greet: Some form their face to plodding wisdom's guise And what they want in head their looks supplies Who, anxious still to take th' unwary in, Turn plain religion to a downright sin; For all these saints of satan do or say Is in the sober serious preaching way.

Young Bully Bragwell struts among the rest, And Billy Button neat and finely dress'd; Grave Adam Archly comes to read the news, To talk of goods and labels to peruse, Tells how the nation will be overun, The country ruined and the state undone; What monst'rous importations now we make, Our stores are cramm'd, our merchants soon must break! The grand assembly—nay the congress should, Prohibit Britons—that would do us good; You see our dollars are a draining fast, We'll scarce have cash to buy us meat at last.— Was I in Congress!—Here they laugh outright, And Adam leaves the Coffee-room thro' spite. Such is the doleful picture Adam shews, He thinks that all the world around are foes, And tho' the fool is scarely worth a pound, He talks as big as if the town he own'd.

* 1.13

Blank puppy John with trudging walk comes next, His motto ignorance and vice his text; No man with greater consequence appears, Altho' the puppy's scarcely twenty years, If cousin Sam salutes him passing by, The empty fool will scarcely lend an eye.

Still in a hurry Johnny Pr--g-e comes, Within his mind computing various sums; When news is stirring Johnny hears it all— By G—d, dear Sir, 'twill make the linens fall. His thoughts are fix'd on nothing but per cent. For this he labours with a fond intent: His looks are absent and his words are plain, His acts are honest and without a stain, His ways are odd, his sayings odder still, His manners low, his sense is what you will; He knows the earth is round, the sun is warm, And that the planets do us little harm, Has some shrewd guess where old Hibernia lies, That London sits beneath Britannia's skies, That Scotland borders on the banks of Tweed, (Where Thomson tun'd his tributary reed,)

That Paris is the gay Parisian's boast, And that their ways are frivolous at most— Some other hints like these make up his wit. Which is for money more than morals fit.

See Ab-l Jemmy come with eager speed, To look a chapman or the books to read, With lists* 1.14 and samples of the goods he sells, And then their matchless qualities he tells; Begs they may call to-morrow or to-day, And for the cash—no matter when they pay: Such was the ways that Jemmy used of late, 'Till needy duns compell'd him to retreat.— Take my advice, be modest and discreet, And let the people pass you in the street, Or else they'll think you impudent and rude, And that your understanding is not good: For folks are living who can rightly tell, That all your pamper'd riches sprung from hell.§ 1.15

With oily tongue and sober pensive pace, To cloak a heart of knavery and disgrace, Comes in old Cheatwell, just with parson's air, But ev'ry one of Cheatwell should take care: Observe this rule, whatever he bids you do, The very opposite you must pursue. Take his advice in nothing if you can, For secret villainy is Cheatwell's plan.

See yonder comes the secret working knave, The tool of infamy and error's slave; In business fail'd, he's now a thing of state, To gull the Censors and the people cheat; He tells a tale of artful lies combin'd, That both perplex and stimulate the mind; He dreads the constitution will be broke, And that new government would be a joke. No pains he spares his proselytes to make, For this all virtue's laws he'll freely break, And ev'ry compact, social and divine, For this he'll sacrifice at Plutus' shrine. Censure this Censor, turn him from his place, And load the knave with merited disgrace.

But yonder comes the friend of human kind, And lib'ral thoughts employ his lib'ral mind,—

'Tis honest Dealwell, of unsullied fame, Whose gold is nothing better than his name; His word will buy what others specie can't, For virtuous dealings is his sole intent.

Exaustless lines could scarce pourtray the group, That daily here for news together troop, Some good, some bad: the English, Irish here With French and Dutch familiarly appear; The Spaniard, Portuguese and sober Swede, Meet India merchants in the course of trade, The Russian, Prussian, Turk and Scot & Jew, With homebred Yankees here we mixing view; And as they pass before the candid muse, Each country's merits in its sons she views.

Sons of our great forefathers first behold, In virtue foremost and in honor bold; Manly their port and open is their face, Their dealings plain, polite and with a grace: Where'er the prow has bore the human form, There daring Britons have withstood the storm Of toiling commerce, or with gen'rous zeal Gave social arts to raise the commonweal,

Swept o'er the world and bore their thunder round, Till crouching Europe trembled at the sound, Great Neptune own'd their empire o'er the main When Hawke and Russell, rul'd the watry plain. Ah! falling Britain! whether fled of late Thy genius, spirit and thy sons so great!— See sister Rome, she once enjoy'd her day, Her very name is sinking to decay; Empires, like men, may flourish and grow great, But yet their periods are prescrib'd by fate.

Hibernian's next, "a nation hardly used, At random censur'd and by some abus'd," Bold sons of freedom, honesty and fame, By daring deeds they dignity their name; True sons of hospitality and worth, Nor lives humaner children on the earth— Give Paddy whiskey, and he's just a God, That makes opponents dread his sov'reign nod.

Observe that soft light-headed troop advance, The airy offspring of gay tinsel France; Bows, scrapes and cringes are their fav'rite trait, New buckles, canes and clothes for ever neat,

Fine powder'd heads, long ruffles sweeping down, The gaze and wonder of the country clown: But yet this nation is for science fam'd, Altho' so much for fops and fopp'ry blam'd; And friendly Louis bade his armies go To quell the venom of our British foe.

See there the surly Spaniard as he walks, Vain, solemn, empty, pampered as he stalks; Dull lazy, ignorant and slothful bred, With nought but empty titles in his head, He boasts his long descent from blood so pure, White and unsullied by the jetty Moor.

Here view the Dutchman, sober, dull and plain, Laborious striving how to gather gain; With double coats to guard the north'ren blast That chill the borders of the Friezeland coast. Thousands beside the painting verse demand, But narrow bounds proscribes my wanton hand.

What various labels round the room appear, Twould make a volumn to recount them here: This tells us where the wine is cheap and good, That where its both in bottles and in wood,

Here by that scrawl we see where bills are sold, There we're inform'd of persons wanting gold, Ships to be had and lodgings to be let, Genteelly furnish'd, either dry or wet; Poor luckless clerks whom fortune still despise, For places, posts and wish'd employment tries, Declare their merits, here display their hands, And that they'll wait on gentlemen's commands " Please to enquire, or leave a line below, " Which punctual will be noticed by O." Such is the various scenes that here we view Where men of business tempting wrath pursue.

MISS GOGGLE, or the Spruce-street Prude.* 1.16

" Is Sukey handsome?"—Yes, she's well enough; " And modest likewise?"—there I end my puff. Her handsome face is nothing when you hear, With what disgust she mostly does appear:

She's always plum'd on what she calls her birth, Tells o'er the sums her peddling father's worth, Says that "us merchants daters should be known " From Miss Flippanto in a Sunday gown; " Folks now a days must dress before they eat, " And gaudy fools now wear what should buy meat, " And pamper'd Milliners must look as great " As if their fathers own'd a large estate! " 'Tis strange to see how common folks appear, " I swear they'r bolder—finer ev'ry year!"— This sample shews what notions fill her head, And how the hopeful gay Miss Goggle's bred.* 1.17

FINIS.

Notes

• § 1.1

  Those names are familiar with every lover of the Dram to whom they need no explanation here; and those who are not its admirers will not trou|ble themselves about one.
• † 1.2

  A glaring instance is recent to the Americans
• * 1.3

  We suppose the author means a certain per|son who was characterised in the Freeman Journal, March 17, 1784, under the head of t•••• POLITICAL CRITIC
• * 1.4

  A friend to the author we suppose.
• § 1.5

  If this was not a true story, it might be thought a plagiary from Goldsmith's Hermit.
• § 1.6

  We are at a loss to know who the author al|ludes to, but suppose it to be J. M. N.—b-tt, Esq.
• † 1.7

  We suppose the author means the Brother of the patriotic and celebrated W. T. J. Member of the Irish Parliament for the borough of L-b-rn.,
• * 1.8

  Was it not for the wit and humour of Mr. C—whose knowledge and oratorial abilities are a good deal above mediocrity, and the pertinent and facetious remarks of Mr. B......who honestly speaks what he thinks is best, I fear that the house would often fall asleep, and instead of bills for consideration we would have dreams for amusement, extracted from the minutes of the sleeping Assembly. This obliges Mr. C—to speak a deal more than he otherwise would.
• * 1.9

  Was it not for the wit and humour of Mr. C—whose knowledge and oratorial abilities are a good deal above mediocrity, and the pertinent and facetious remarks of Mr. B—who honestly speaks what he thinks is best, I fear that the house would often fall asleep, and instead of bills for consideration we would have dreams for amusement, extracted from the minutes of the sleeping Assembly. This obliges Mr. C—to speak a deal more than he otherwise would.
• § 1.10

  This must certainly be a plagiary from Paddy Whack or Sir Terence O'Shaughnessy. Wine may be turned into Vinegar, but I would be obliged to Mr. S.....if he would favor me with the chymi|cal analysis for turning it into water.
• * 1.11

  Of Assembly
• * 1.12

  Men of no capital.
• * 1.13

  The above as well as the following characters are well known to those who frequent the Coffee-house.
• * 1.14

  He made it a practice last year to go amongst the shop-keepers with his invoice book under his arm, pimping for their custom.
• § 1.15

  A taylor's cabbage-hole.
• * 1.16

  The Editor has to apologize for inserting this first-rate character so far back, as it was intended for one of the front pages, but through the hurry of the Printer was mislaid.
• * 1.17

  A porter one day going past her father's, sub|missively asked her if she knew where Capt.—lived in the neighbourhood? all the answer she made him was a frown, and running to her mother said, with a disgusted look—Ma'a! what do you think? had not that great dirty fellow the impu|dence to ask me if I knew where Captain—lived!