LETTER

IN PROSE AND VERSE TO MRS. BUNBURY.

MADAM: I read your letter with all that allowance which critical candor could require; but, after all, find so much to object to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giving it a serious answer. I am not so ignorant, Madam, as not to see there are many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms also, (solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleis, in Attica, among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we use the word Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that name; but this is learning you have no taste for.)—I say, Madam, there are sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But, not to seem an ill-natured critic, I'll take leave to quote your own words, and give you my remarks upon them as they occur. You begin as follows:

"I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here,

And your spring velvet coat very smart will appear,
To open our ball the first day in the year."

Pray, Madam, where did you ever find the epithet "good" applied to the title of doctor? Had you called me learned doctor, or grave doctor, or noble doctor, it might be allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil at trifles, you talk of my spring velvet coat, and advise me to wear it the first day in the year,- that is, in the middle of winter; a spring velvet in the middle of winter!!! That would be a solecism, indeed; and yet, to increase the inconsistence, in another part of your letter you call me a beau. Now, on one side or other, you must be

wrong. If I am a beau, I can never think of wearing a spring velvet in winter; and if I am not a beau — why – then - that explains itself. But let me go on to your two next strange lines:

"And bring with you a wig that is modish and gay,

To dance with the girls that are making of hay."

But

The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself seem sensible of; you say your sister will laugh, and so indeed she well may. The Latins have an expression for a contemptuous sort of laughter, Naso contemnere adunco; that is, to laugh with a crooked nose; she may laugh at you in the manner of the ancients, if she thinks fit. now I am come to the most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which is to take you and your sister's advice in playing at loo. The presumption of the offer raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; it inspires me at once with verse and resentment. I take advice! and from whom? You shall hear.

First let me suppose, what may shortly be true,
The company set, and the word to be-loo;
All smirking and pleasant, and big with adventure,
And ogling the stake which is fixed in the centre.
Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn
At never once finding a visit from Pam.

I lay down my stake, apparently cool,
While the harpies about me all pocket the pool;
I fret in my gizzard — yet, cautious and sly,
I wish all my friends may be bolder than I:
Yet still they sit snug; not a creature will aim,
By losing their money, to venture at fame.

'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, 'Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold, All play their own way, and they think me an ass; "What does Mrs. Bunbury?" "I, sir? I pass. "Pray what does Miss Horneck? Take courage, come, do." "Who - I? Let me see, sir; why, I must pass too." Mrs. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil, To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil ; Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion,

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I venture at all; while my avarice regards

The whole pool as my own. "Come, give me five cards."
"Well done!" cry the ladies; "ah! doctor, that's good
The pool's very rich. Ah, the doctor is looed."
Thus foiled in my courage, on all sides perplexed,

I ask for advice from the lady that's next.

'Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice;

"Don't you think the best way is to venture for 't twice?"
"I advise," cries the lady, "to try it, I own—
Ah, the doctor is looed: come, doctor, put down."
Thus playing and playing, I still grow more eager,
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar.
Now, ladies, I ask if law matters you're skilled in,—
Whether crimes such as yours should not come before
Fielding;

For, giving advice that is not worth a straw

May well be called picking of pockets in law;

And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye,
Is, by quinto Elizabeth, death without clergy.
What justice! when both to the Old Bailey brought ;
By the gods! I'll enjoy it, though 't is but in thought.

Both are placed at the bar with all proper decorum,
With bunches of fennel and nosegays before them:
Both cover their faces with mobs and all that,
But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat.
When uncovered, a buzz of inquiry runs round;

"Pray, what are their crimes?" "They 've been pilfering found."

"But pray whom have they pilfered?" "A doctor, I hear." "What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near?"

"The same.'

"What a pity! How does it surprise one!

Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on!"

Then their friends all come round me, with cringing and leering,

To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing.

First Sir Charlés advances, with phrases well strung: "Consider, dear doctor, the girls are but young. "The younger the worse," I return him again; "It shows that their habits are all died in grain." "But then they're so handsome; one's bosom it grieves." "What signifies handsome, when people are thieves?" But where is your justice? their cases are hard.” "What signifies justice? I want the reward."

"There's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds there's the parish of St. Leonard Shoreditch, offers forty pounds - there's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-inthe-pound to St. Giles's watch-house, offers forty pounds: I shall have all that, if I convict them.

"But consider their case: it may yet be your own; And see how they kneel: is your heart made of stone ?” This moves so, at last, I agree to relent,

For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent.

I challenge you all to answer this: I tell you, you cannot It cuts deep. But now for the rest of the letter; and next but I want room so I believe I shall battle the

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rest out at Barton some day next week.

I don't value you all!

0. G.

SONG,

66

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG, IN THE COMEDY OF SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER,' BY MISS HARDCASTLE.

АH me! when shall I marry me?

Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me;

He, fond youth, that could carry me,

Offers to love, but means to deceive me.

But I will rally and combat the ruiner;

Not a look, not a smile, shall my passion discover: She that gives all to the false one pursuing her Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.

SONG,

IN THE COMEDY OF "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.'

SCENE- - A room in the alehouse, the " Three Jolly Pigeons."

LET schoolmasters puzzle their brains

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning —

Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,

Gives genus a better discerning.