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Mora pur quando vuol, non è bisogno mutar nè faccia nè voce per esser un angelo.*

DIE when you will, you need not wear
At Heaven's Court a form more fair

Than Beauty here on earth has given;
Keep but the lovely looks we see
The voice we hear-and you will be
An angel ready-made for heaven!

THE NEW COSTUME OF THE MINISTERS.
nova monstra creavit.-Ovid. Metamorph. lib. i. v. 437.
HAVING sent off the troops of brave Major Camac,
With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous back,
And such helmets, God bless us ! as never decked any
Male creature before, except Signor Giovanni-
"Let's see," says the Regent (like Titus, perplexed
With the duties of empire), "whom shall I dress next?"

He looks in the glass-but perfection is there,
Wig, whiskers, and chin-tufts all right to a hair ;+
Not a single ex-curl on his forehead he traces-
For curls are like Ministers, strange as the case is,
The falser they are, the more firm in their places.

His coat he next views-but the coat who could doubt?
For his Yarmouth's own Frenchified hand cut it out;
Every pucker and seam were made matters of State,
And a grand Household Council was held on each plait !
Then whom shall he dress? shall he new-rig his brother
Great Cumberland's Duke, with some kickshaw or other?
And kindly invent him more Christian-like shapes
For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes?

Ah! no-here his ardour would meet with delays,
For the Duke had been lately packed up in new stays,
So complete for the winter, he saw very plain
"Twould be devilish hard work to unpack him again!

So, what's to be done?-there's the Ministers, bless 'em!—
As he made the puppets, why shouldn't he dress 'em?

*The words addressed by Lord Herbert of Cherbury to the beautiful Nun at Murano. See his Life.

That model of princes, the Emperor Commodus, was particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of his hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to trust himself with a barber, and he used, accordingly, to burn off his beard-"timore tonsoris," says Lampridius (Hist. August. Scriptor) The dissolute Elius Verus, too, was equally attentive to the decoration of his wig. (See Jul. Capitolin.) Indeed, this was not the only princely trait in the character of Verus, as he had likewise a most hearty and dignified contempt for his wife. See his insulting answer to her in Spartianus.

"An excellent thought!-call the tailors-be nimble-
Let Cum bring his spy-glass, and Hertford her thimble;
While Yarmouth shall give us, in spite of all quizzers,
The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissars."

So saying, he calls Castlereagh, and the rest

Of his Heaven-born statesmen, to come and be dressed.
While Yarmouth, with snip-like and brisk expedition,
Cuts up, all at once, a large Cath'lic petition

In long tailors' measures, (the Prince crying "Well done!"; And first puts in hand my Lord Chancellor Eldon.

CORRESPONDENCE

between a LADY AND GENTLEMAN, UPON THE ADVANTAGE OF (WHAT IS CALLED) "HAVING LAW ON one's side.'

COME, fly to these arms, nor let beauties so bloomy

To one frigid owner be tied;

Your prudes may revile, and your old ones look gloomy,
But, dearest! we've Law on our side.

Oh! think the delight of two lovers congenial,

Whom no dull decorums divide;

Their error how sweet, and their raptures how venial,

When once they've got Law on their side!

'Tis a thing that in every king's reign has been done, too; Then why should it now be decried?

If the father has done it, why shouldn't the son, too?
For so argues Law on our side!

And, e'en should our sweet violation of duty

By cold-blooded jurors be tried,

They can but bring it in a misfortune," my beauty,
As long as we've Law on our side.

THE LADY'S ANSWER.

Hold, hold, my good sir! go a little more slowly,

For, grant me so faithless a bride,

Such sinners as we are a little too lowly

To hope to have Law on our side.

Had you been a great prince, to whose star shining o'er 'em
The people should look for their guide,

Then your Highness (and welcome !) might kick down de

corum

You'd always have Law on your side.

Were you e'en an old Marquis, in mischief grown hoary,
Whose heart, though it long ago died

To the pleasures of vice, is alive to its glory-
You still would have Law on your side!

But for you, sir, crim. con. is a path full of troubles;

By my advice therefore abide,

And leave the pursuit to those princes and nobles
Who have such a Law on their side!

OCCASIONAL ADDRESS.

FOR THE OPENING OF THE NEW THEATRE OF ST. STEPHEN, INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN BY THE PROPRIETOR IN FULL COSTUME, ON THE 24TH OF NOVEMBER.

THIS day a New House, for your edification,

We open, most thinking and right-headed nation!

Excuse the materials-though rotten and bad,

They're the best that for money just now could be had;

And, if echo the charm of such houses should be,

You will find it shall echo my speech to a T.

As for actors, we've got the old Company yet,

The same motley, odd, tragi-comical set:

And considering they all were but clerks t'other day,
It is truly surprising how well they can play.
Our manager (he, who in Ulster was nurst,
And sung Erin go Brah for the galleries first,
But on finding Pitt-interest a much better thing,
Changed his note of a sudden, to God save the King ;)
Still wise as he's blooming, and fat as he's clever,
Himself and his speeches as lengthy as ever,
Here offers you still the full use of his breath,

Your devoted and long-winded proser till death!

You remember last season, when things went perverse on,
We had to engage (as a block to rehearse on,)
One Mr. Vansittart, a good sort of person,

Who's also employed for this season to play

In "Raising the Wind," and "the Devil to Pay."

We expect too-at least we've been plotting and planning—
To get that great actor from Liverpool, Canning;
And, as at the Circus there's nothing attracts
Like a good single combat brought in 'twixt the acts,
If the manager should, with the help of Sir Popham,
Get up new diversions, and Canning should stop 'em,
Who knows but we'll have to announce in the papers
"Grand fight-second time-with additional capers."
Be your taste for the ludicrous, humdrum, or sad,
There is plenty of each in this house to be had;
Where our manager ruleth, there weeping will be,
For a dead hand at tragedy always was he;

And there never was dealer in dagger and cup,
Who so smilingly got all his tragedies up.
His powers poor Ireland will never forget,
And the widows of Walcheren weep o'er them yet.
So much for the actors-for secret machinery,
Traps and deceptions, and shifting of scenery.
Yarmouth and Cum are the best we can find,
To transact all that trickery business behind.
The former's employed too to teach us French jigs,
Keep the whiskers in curl, and look after the wigs.

In taking my leave now, I've only to say
A few Seats in the House not as yet sold away,
May be had of the manager, Pat Castlereagh.

THE SALE OF THE TOOLS.

Instrumenta regni.-Tacitus.

HERE'S a choice set of Tools for you, gemmen and ladies,
They'll fit you quite handy, whatever your trade is ;
(Except it be Cabinet-making-I doubt

In that delicate service they're rather worn out;

Though their owner, bright youth! if he'd had his own will,
Would have bungled away with them joyously still.)

You can see they've been pretty well hacked-and alack!
What tool is there job after job will not hack?
Their edge is but dullish, it must be confess'd,

And their temper, like Ellenb'rough's none of the best.
But you'll find them good hard-working Tools, upon trying;
Were't but for their brass they are well worth the buying;
They're famous for making blinds, sliders, and screens,
And they're, some of them, excellent turning machines!

The first Tool I'll put up (they call it a Chancellor)
Heavy concern to both purchaser and seller-
Though made of pig iron, yet worthy of note 'tis,
'Tis ready to melt at a half minute's notice.

Who bids? Gentle buyer! 'twill turn as thou shapest-
Twill make a good thumbscrew to torture a Papist ;
Or else a cramp-iron, to stick in the wall

Of some church that old women are fearful will fall;

Or better, perhaps (for I'm guessing at random),

A heavy drag-chain for some lawyer's old Tandem:

Will nobody bid? It is cheap, I am sure, sir

Once, twice, going, going, thrice, gone !-it is yours, sir.
To pay ready money you shan't be distressed,

As a bill at long date suits the Chancellor best.

Come, where's the next Tool?-Oh! 'tis here in a trice-
This implement, gemmen, at first was a Vice
(A tenacious and close sort of Tool, that will let
Nothing out of its grasp it once happens to get),

H

But it since has received a new coating of Tin,
Bright enough for a prince to behold himself in!
Come, what shall we say for it? briskly! bid on,
We'll the sooner get rid of it-going-quite gone!
God be with it, such tools, if not quickly knocked down,
Might at last cost their owner-how much? why a Crown!

The next Tool I'll set up has hardly had handsel or
Trial as yet, and is also a Chancellor-

Such dull things as these should be sold by the gross ;
Yet, dull as it is, 'twill be found to shave close,
And like other close shavers, some courage to gather,
This blade first began by a flourish on leather!
You shall have it for nothing-then marvel with me

At the terrible tinkering work there must be,

Where a tool such as this is (I'll leave you to judge it)
Is placed by ill luck at the top of the Budget!

LITTLE MAN AND LITTLE SOUL.

"

A BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF THERE WAS A LITTLE MAN, AND HE WOOED A
LITTLE MAID," DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HON, CHARLES ABBOT

THERE was a little Man, and he had a little Soul,
And he said, "Little Soul, let us try, try, try,

Whether it's within our reach

To make up a little Speech,

Just between little you and little I, I, I,
Just between little you and little I !"

Then said his little Soul,

Peeping from her little hole,

"I protest, little Man, you are stout, stout, stout,
But, if it's not uncivil,

Pray tell me what the devil

Must our little, little speech be about, bout, bout,
Must our little, little speech be about?"

The little Man looked big,

With the assistance of his wig,

And he called his little Soul to order, order, order,

Till she feared he'd make her jog in

To jail like Thomas Croggan

1813

(As she wasn't Duke or Earl), to reward her, ward her, ward

her,

As she wasn't Duke or Earl, to reward her.

The little Man then spoke,

"Little Soul, it is no joke,

For as sure as J-cky F-11- loves a sup, sup, sup,