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Tom Tick {without). This way, and don't believe a word on't.

Enters with Georgiana.

There—as I told you—only a flight scratch—alive and merry, you fee.

Leonard Georgiana! Why—how's this? Has Post Obit consented?

Tom. No, but I have—This paper {gives it to Leonard, who reads it to him/elf), fign'd with his own comic

hand, gives me power to name her husband and I

don't know how you feel, brother guardian, {to Sir

Herbert,") but I nominate Leonard Melmoth 1 give

him Georgiana, with charms to the tune of eighteen thousand.

Leonard {having read paper). Astonishing! Why,

what could induce

Tom. Curse me, if I can tell you—All I know is, a quack threw me into a fpunging house, and a legacyhunter took me out of it—that, by his orders, I signed tiny will at the lawyer's, and by his orders the lawyer gave me that agreement. That I'm free, Georgiana safe, Leonard happy !—and, if the joke prove a dear

one to Post Obit, it's no fault of mine. -He would

have a legacy; and, hang me, but I've left him a thumping one.

Sir Herb. Generous friend! You shall partake of our prosperity, and, in my son, may Georgiana find atoneJiient for all the wrongs committed by his father. And now, Ellen, ere we commence our new career, ler us remember, that moderate pleasures are the most complete, and that extravagance, which takes its root in indolence and pride, concludes its fleeting life in fraud, in ruin, and disgrace!

Tom. So it docs—and let no man run out—and for the future I'll pay punctually—but still

One debt there is, which we can never clear—

The debt of gratitude that's owing here.

Lend us your smiles once more—tor my fake, do,


Enter Shenkin.

Statin. And also for Caractacuj, look yon.

Enter Doctor.

Drthr. And for poor me_though driven from the plain,
If you'll stand by we, I may fight again. P'

Enter Post Obit.

Post Obit. And so may Peter.—

Tom. — _ Nay, adjust affairs,

Oive me your hand, and hope that they give theiri.

Tom Jhakes hands with Doctor and Post Obit.

You want no see, if they support your cause, [to Doctor.
Aud you no legacy, but their applause. [to Post Obit.

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Written by Mr. Serjeant Sellon, mi
Spoken by Mr. MeNDen,

In the CbaraQer of Post Obit.

« Yf YE Nature's walks." Need ports thus advise?

1^, Ptay, who can fail, unlels he/butt his eyesT Is not pare Nature full display'd to view r Transparent fair ones—1 appeal to you:

To y0U> ye no—you're quite a different creature,

Voo modern Beau, for you are out of nature.

"Shoot folly as it flies."—Alas! I fear

The attempt is vain—We know, year after year,

Our bard his game-certificate hath got,

Hath wasted all his paper, powder, shot.

Yet, has he thinn'd the follies of the town?

He may hit hard, but can he knock one down?

Amaz'd at this, 1 ask'd the reason why i

Follies, he said, on Fashion's pinions fly.

They fore aloft secure—the more you fire.

You only scare them, and they mount the higher.

What'. can no birds within our reach be found?

I'll look about me—this is sporting ground.

Sure lawyers, husbands, wives, and lobby phantoms,

Are black game, cuckoos, wagtails, crowing bantam*.

Of rooks and pigeons 1 fee various races,

Beside the sea-gulls from the watering places!

As for the city fowls, they've had their trimming,

And lame ducks, now, in the canals are swimming.

«« And catch the manners living as they ri(e.'|

Where catch them i Here—their field for exercise.

Suppose the scene quite tragic—all in high woe—

Out thunders—" What's the play"—" Sir, how do I know/"

«"• Do you know me I"—" No, dam'me!—hold your brother I"

«« Sir, I'm a gentleman"—" Sir, I'm another." [A3or.

(Audience.) " Go on! go on!" « Oh, wretched lost Evander!"

«« Sir, my name's M'Goflbg"—" And mine, O'Gander."

{exchanging cards. "Drops m Drops for the ladies there!'' '« Unloose their lockets"

«« We can V—■« Their handkerchiefs!" "They've no pockets."

*' Silence below there! Let a* hear the play"

(Sat 'ot in the galleries. "Ladies and gentlemen, one word, I pray" l/iOtr.

"De'el take ye, is this Babel, Heel, or London?"

(Scotchman in thtfit. "Are you the manager?" (Irishman)* "No, Sir, I'm Munaeo."

Such are the manners or" our age, nor less
Doth Folly hold dominion over Dress.
All things dis>rder'd are from sole to crown.
The youtMul stapling is o'd Square-toes grown.
With gills tight brac'J—his head seems out of joint,
Atra2y ruin, propp'd at e»ery point.

Though war through E jrooe, through the world, may cease.
And plenty gild the olive branch of Peace;
Though others quit the field, their labour done,
Our bard comes forth with double barrell'd gun—
From luxuty and ease new tollies spring,
And he's resolv'd to catch them on the wing.
No reft he seeks—nor danger will he fear,
Proud in your service to be volunteer,

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I. TOAN of ARC, an Epic Poem. By Robert Southey. In .1 two volumes, printed on fine wove paper, hot-pressed, embellished with an elegant' Portrait of the Maid of Orleans. The second edition. Price 128. in boards.

"It affords us pie sure to see that a poem, the uncommon merit of which was recognized by us at its first appearance, (see Monthly Review lor April, 1756,) has so far obtained the sanction of the public, at lo produce a d<mind for a second edition.

"We also are gratified in observing that the author has so much subdued the selfconfidence and impatience of youth, as to submit to the task of a very careful revision ef the whole, and to make ample sacrifices of such parts as could not stand the scrutiny of his maturer judgment." Monthly Revirw. J runty 1799.

2. POEMS, including The Visions Of The Maid Of OrLeans. By Robert Southey. Two Volumes. Price us. in boards.

"Among the youthful poets of the present day, Mr. Southey bean no inconsiderable rank. He courted the Muses at an early age; and they did not treat h s advances with dTdain. He is not one of those cool versifiers who tamely pursue a spirit* less course; for he frequently displays feeling, talte, and genius."

Critical Review, June 1799.

3. THALABA the DESTROYER, a Metrical Romance, with copious Notes. By Robert South Fy. Elegantly printed in two volumes, foolscap octavo. Price 14s. in boards.

4. ANNUAL ANTHOLOGY, two vol*, small octavo. Price 12s. in beards.

5;. LYRICAL BALLADS, with other POEMS. By W. Wordsworth. Neatly printed in two volumes, foolscap octavo. Price us. in boards.

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•' We do not often find expreflio Is that we esteem 'on familiar, or deficient in dignity; on the contrary, we think that the author has succeeded in attaining that Jud'rious d-gr^e of simplicity, •vhich accommodates itself with ease, even to ihe sublime It is not I y pomp of words, but by energy of thought, that sublimity is moil su cess fully atchievea; and we infinitely prefer the simplicity, even ot the mist unadorned tale in this volume, to all the meretricious frippery of the Darwinian taste." 1 Britijb Critic, Oil. 1799-"


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