lows the use of meat in a morning as gross, fat, hebetant, feral, altogether fitter for wild beasts than men, e contra commendeth this herb-diete for gentle, humane, active, conducing to contemplation in most men, I hetook myselfe to the nearest fields. (Being in London I commonly dwell in the suburbes, as airest, quietest, loci musis propriores, free from noises of caroches, waggons, mechanick, and base workes, workshoppes, also sights, pageants, spectacles of outlandish birds, fishes, crocodiles, Indians, mermaids, adde quarrels, fightings, wranglings of the common sort, plebs, the rabble, duelloes with fists, proper to this island, at which the stilettoed and secrete Italian laughs.) Withdrawing myselfe from these buzzing and illiterate vanities, with a bezo las manos to the city, I begin to inhale, draw in, snuff up, as horses dilatus naribus snort the fresh aires, with exceeding great delight, when suddenly there crosses me a procession sad, heavy, dolourous, tristfull, melancholick, able to change mirth into dolour, and overcast a clearer atmosphere than possibly the neighbourhoods of so great a citty can afford. An old man, a poore man deceased, is borne on men's shoulders to a poore buriall, without solemnities of hearse, mourners, plumes, mutæ persone, those personate actors that will weep if yee shew them a piece of silver; none of those customed civilities of children, kinsfolk, dependants, following the coffin; he died a poore man, his friends assessores opum, those cronies of his that stuck by him so long as he had a penny, now leave him, forsake him, shun him, desert him; they think it much to follow his putrid and stinking carcase to the grave; his children, if he had any, for commonly the case stands thus, this poore man his son dies before him, he survives, poore, indigent, base, dejected, miserable, &c., or if he have any which survive him, sua negotia agunt, they mind their own business, forsooth, cannot, will not, find time, leisure, inclination, extremum munus perficere, to follow to the pit their old indulgent father, which loved them, stroked them, caressed them, cockering them up, quantum potuit, as farre as his means extended, while they were babes, chits, minims, hee may rot in his grave, lie stinking in the sun for them, have no burial at all, they care not. Oh nefas! Chiefly I noted the coffin to have been without a pall, nothing but a few planks, of cheapest wood that could be had, naked, having none of the ordinary symtomata of a funerall, those locularii which bare the body having on diversely-coloured coats, and none black : (one of these reported the deceased to have been an almsman seven yeares, a pauper, harboured and fed in the workhouse of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, to whose proper burying-ground he was now going for interment.) All which when I behelde, hardly

I refrained from weeping, and incontinently I fell to musing: "If this man had been rich, a Cræsus, a Crassus, or as rich as Whittington, what pompe, charge, lavish cost, expenditure, of rich buriall, ceremoniall-obsequies, obsequious ceremonies, had been thought too good for such an one; what store of panegyr icks, elogies, funeral orations, &c. some beggarly poetaster, worthy to be beaten for his ill rimes, crying him up, hee was rich, generous, bountiful, polite, learned, a Mæcenas, while as in very deede he was nothing lesse; what weeping, sighing, sorrowing, honing, complaining kinsmen, friends, relatives, fourtieth cousins, poor relatives, lamenting for the deceased; hypocriticall heirs, sobbing, striking their breasts; (they care not if he had died a year ago); so many clients, dependants, flatterers, parasites, cunning Gnathoes, tramping on foot after the hearse, all their care is, who shall stand fairest with the suc cessour; he meantime (like enough) spurns them from him, spits at them, treads them under his foot, will have nought to do with any such cattle. I think him in the right: Hæc sunt majora gravitate Heracliti. These follies are enough to give crying Heraclitus a fit of the spleene."

MR. H,

A FARCE-IN TWO ACTS,

AS IT WAS PERFORMED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE,
DECEMBER, 1806.

"Mr. H, thou wert DAMNED. Bright shone the morning on the play oills that announced thy appearance, and the streets were filled with the buzz of persons asking one another if they would go to see Mr. H, and answering that they would certainly; but before night the gayety, not of the author, but of his friends and the town, was eclipsed, for thou wert DAMNED! Hadst thou been anonymous, thou haply mightst have lived. But thou didst come to an untimely end for thy tricks, and for want of a better name to pass them off."-Theatrical Examiner.

Gentlemen Ladies, Waiters, Servants, &c.

Scene-BATH.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MR. ELLISTON

Ir we have sinn'd in paring down a name,
All civil, well-bred authors do the same.
Survey the columns of our daily writers-
You'll find that some Initials are great fighters.
How fierce the shock, how fatal is the jar,
When Ensign W. meets Lieutenant R."

With two stout seconds, just of their own gizzard,
Cross Captain X. and rough old General Izzard!
Letter to letter spreads the dire alarms,

Till half the alphabet is up in arms.
Nor with less lustre have Initials shone,
To grace the gentler annals of Crim. Con.,
Where the dispensers of the public lash
Soft penance give; a letter and a dash-
Where vice reduced in size shrinks to a failing,
And loses half her grossness by curtailing.
Faux pas are told in such a modest way-
The affair of Colonel B. with Mrs. A.-
You must forgive them-for what is there, say,
Which such a pliant vowel must not grant
To such a very pressing consonant?
Or who poetic justice dares dispute,
When mildly melting at a lover's suit.
The wife's a liquid, her good man a mute!
Even in the homelier scenes of honest life,
The coarse-spun intercourse of man and wife,
Initials, I am told, have taken place

Of deary, spouse, and that oldfashioned race,
And Cabbage, ask'd by Brother Snip to tea,
Replies, "I'll come-but it don't rest with me-
I always leaves them things to Mrs. C."
Oh should this mincing fashion ever spread
From names of living heroes to the dead,

How would ambition sigh, and hang the head,
As each loved syllable should melt away-

Her Alexander turned into Great A.

A single C. her Cesar to express

Her Scipio shrunk into a Roman S.

And nick'd and dock'd to these new modes of speech. Great Hannibal himself a Mr. H.