Step the Sixth.
Farewell to courtship's happy hours!Hail to the joys of wedded life—How soon the sweets have turned to sours!A drunken Husband—scolding Wife.Was it for this fair blooming Maid,This scene of sad, domestic jar,That, by the wiles of man betray'd,You left the tap room and the bar?Why, thou unworthy slave of drink!Thy partner's peace thus plant a dagger in,And hastening to destruction's brink,Steer homeward's nightly drunk and staggering?"You filthy wretch, what! drunk again—Too soon will poverty assail us;Can't you a single night refrainFrom tippling in that cursed ale-house?"You little dream, you worthless sot,What mischief o'er your head is brewing,You'll part with everything we've gotAnd bring your wife and child to ruin.""Why that I'm fresh can't be denied,But steady, my good wench, go steady—For, by that flask you seek to hide,ToRUINyou have got already!"
Farewell to courtship's happy hours!Hail to the joys of wedded life—How soon the sweets have turned to sours!A drunken Husband—scolding Wife.Was it for this fair blooming Maid,This scene of sad, domestic jar,That, by the wiles of man betray'd,You left the tap room and the bar?Why, thou unworthy slave of drink!Thy partner's peace thus plant a dagger in,And hastening to destruction's brink,Steer homeward's nightly drunk and staggering?"You filthy wretch, what! drunk again—Too soon will poverty assail us;Can't you a single night refrainFrom tippling in that cursed ale-house?"You little dream, you worthless sot,What mischief o'er your head is brewing,You'll part with everything we've gotAnd bring your wife and child to ruin.""Why that I'm fresh can't be denied,But steady, my good wench, go steady—For, by that flask you seek to hide,ToRUINyou have got already!"
Farewell to courtship's happy hours!Hail to the joys of wedded life—How soon the sweets have turned to sours!A drunken Husband—scolding Wife.
Farewell to courtship's happy hours!
Hail to the joys of wedded life—
How soon the sweets have turned to sours!
A drunken Husband—scolding Wife.
Was it for this fair blooming Maid,This scene of sad, domestic jar,That, by the wiles of man betray'd,You left the tap room and the bar?
Was it for this fair blooming Maid,
This scene of sad, domestic jar,
That, by the wiles of man betray'd,
You left the tap room and the bar?
Why, thou unworthy slave of drink!Thy partner's peace thus plant a dagger in,And hastening to destruction's brink,Steer homeward's nightly drunk and staggering?
Why, thou unworthy slave of drink!
Thy partner's peace thus plant a dagger in,
And hastening to destruction's brink,
Steer homeward's nightly drunk and staggering?
"You filthy wretch, what! drunk again—Too soon will poverty assail us;Can't you a single night refrainFrom tippling in that cursed ale-house?
"You filthy wretch, what! drunk again—
Too soon will poverty assail us;
Can't you a single night refrain
From tippling in that cursed ale-house?
"You little dream, you worthless sot,What mischief o'er your head is brewing,You'll part with everything we've gotAnd bring your wife and child to ruin."
"You little dream, you worthless sot,
What mischief o'er your head is brewing,
You'll part with everything we've got
And bring your wife and child to ruin."
"Why that I'm fresh can't be denied,But steady, my good wench, go steady—For, by that flask you seek to hide,ToRUINyou have got already!"
"Why that I'm fresh can't be denied,
But steady, my good wench, go steady—
For, by that flask you seek to hide,
ToRUINyou have got already!"
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXI.
STEP THE SEVENTH.
Step the Seventh.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
Old Snip deceas'd, his hopeful heir,To earn an honest bob,Has open'd shop for leather ware,And turned a drunken Snob:"A pair of dancing slippers bring—Let them be small enough;I wish to have them quite the thing,And let the soles be buff.""Buff soles I haven't in my shop;All that were here are gone;But, Madam, here's a prime buff top—Do please to try it on.""How dare you treat a Lady so?Begone, you saucy brute!Your conduct all the town shall know—Try on a fellow's boot!""Why, Ma'am, you're somewhat out of tune,And rather too particular;I've had a drop this afternoon,And can't stand perpendicular."You see, Ma'am, I'm a jolly dog—My throat is always dry;And when I've had my whack of grog,Why, 'damn the shop!' say I."
Old Snip deceas'd, his hopeful heir,To earn an honest bob,Has open'd shop for leather ware,And turned a drunken Snob:"A pair of dancing slippers bring—Let them be small enough;I wish to have them quite the thing,And let the soles be buff.""Buff soles I haven't in my shop;All that were here are gone;But, Madam, here's a prime buff top—Do please to try it on.""How dare you treat a Lady so?Begone, you saucy brute!Your conduct all the town shall know—Try on a fellow's boot!""Why, Ma'am, you're somewhat out of tune,And rather too particular;I've had a drop this afternoon,And can't stand perpendicular."You see, Ma'am, I'm a jolly dog—My throat is always dry;And when I've had my whack of grog,Why, 'damn the shop!' say I."
Old Snip deceas'd, his hopeful heir,To earn an honest bob,Has open'd shop for leather ware,And turned a drunken Snob:
Old Snip deceas'd, his hopeful heir,
To earn an honest bob,
Has open'd shop for leather ware,
And turned a drunken Snob:
"A pair of dancing slippers bring—Let them be small enough;I wish to have them quite the thing,And let the soles be buff."
"A pair of dancing slippers bring—
Let them be small enough;
I wish to have them quite the thing,
And let the soles be buff."
"Buff soles I haven't in my shop;All that were here are gone;But, Madam, here's a prime buff top—Do please to try it on."
"Buff soles I haven't in my shop;
All that were here are gone;
But, Madam, here's a prime buff top—
Do please to try it on."
"How dare you treat a Lady so?Begone, you saucy brute!Your conduct all the town shall know—Try on a fellow's boot!"
"How dare you treat a Lady so?
Begone, you saucy brute!
Your conduct all the town shall know—
Try on a fellow's boot!"
"Why, Ma'am, you're somewhat out of tune,And rather too particular;I've had a drop this afternoon,And can't stand perpendicular.
"Why, Ma'am, you're somewhat out of tune,
And rather too particular;
I've had a drop this afternoon,
And can't stand perpendicular.
"You see, Ma'am, I'm a jolly dog—My throat is always dry;And when I've had my whack of grog,Why, 'damn the shop!' say I."
"You see, Ma'am, I'm a jolly dog—
My throat is always dry;
And when I've had my whack of grog,
Why, 'damn the shop!' say I."
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXII.
STEP THE EIGHTH.
Step the Eighth.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
Behold our thirsty hero now,To keep the game up always zealous,With all his honours on his brow,And Chairman of theFunny Fellows."I humbly move," cries Lawyer Glum,"That all our glasses charg'd may be—I can't sit any longer dumb—'The Chairman's health with three times three.'"We know him for a jovial boy—Long may he flourish at our mess,And still continue to enjoyProsperity—Health—Happiness.""Hurra!" cries Ellwide, "here's his health:We'll give the bowl of punch no quarter—Thro' life, in poverty or wealth,I'll stick to him like bricks and mortar.""While I've a tanner in my till,Or in my purse can sport a bob,I'll vow eternal friendship still,And share my stock with honest Snob."Friendship's a most endearing tie,Unless it comes your cash to borrow,Then all its bright attractions dieWith "Can't you call again to-morrow?"
Behold our thirsty hero now,To keep the game up always zealous,With all his honours on his brow,And Chairman of theFunny Fellows."I humbly move," cries Lawyer Glum,"That all our glasses charg'd may be—I can't sit any longer dumb—'The Chairman's health with three times three.'"We know him for a jovial boy—Long may he flourish at our mess,And still continue to enjoyProsperity—Health—Happiness.""Hurra!" cries Ellwide, "here's his health:We'll give the bowl of punch no quarter—Thro' life, in poverty or wealth,I'll stick to him like bricks and mortar.""While I've a tanner in my till,Or in my purse can sport a bob,I'll vow eternal friendship still,And share my stock with honest Snob."Friendship's a most endearing tie,Unless it comes your cash to borrow,Then all its bright attractions dieWith "Can't you call again to-morrow?"
Behold our thirsty hero now,To keep the game up always zealous,With all his honours on his brow,And Chairman of theFunny Fellows.
Behold our thirsty hero now,
To keep the game up always zealous,
With all his honours on his brow,
And Chairman of theFunny Fellows.
"I humbly move," cries Lawyer Glum,"That all our glasses charg'd may be—I can't sit any longer dumb—'The Chairman's health with three times three.'
"I humbly move," cries Lawyer Glum,
"That all our glasses charg'd may be—
I can't sit any longer dumb—
'The Chairman's health with three times three.'
"We know him for a jovial boy—Long may he flourish at our mess,And still continue to enjoyProsperity—Health—Happiness."
"We know him for a jovial boy—
Long may he flourish at our mess,
And still continue to enjoy
Prosperity—Health—Happiness."
"Hurra!" cries Ellwide, "here's his health:We'll give the bowl of punch no quarter—Thro' life, in poverty or wealth,I'll stick to him like bricks and mortar."
"Hurra!" cries Ellwide, "here's his health:
We'll give the bowl of punch no quarter—
Thro' life, in poverty or wealth,
I'll stick to him like bricks and mortar."
"While I've a tanner in my till,Or in my purse can sport a bob,I'll vow eternal friendship still,And share my stock with honest Snob."
"While I've a tanner in my till,
Or in my purse can sport a bob,
I'll vow eternal friendship still,
And share my stock with honest Snob."
Friendship's a most endearing tie,Unless it comes your cash to borrow,Then all its bright attractions dieWith "Can't you call again to-morrow?"
Friendship's a most endearing tie,
Unless it comes your cash to borrow,
Then all its bright attractions die
With "Can't you call again to-morrow?"
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXIII.
STEP THE NINTH.
Step the Ninth.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
EMBARRASSMENT.
Would you a Sov'reign's value know—Let this be quickly done;To some dear friend or neighbour go,And try to borrow one.Now drunkenness has had its day,Snob's ways and means grow taper;But why not friendship's call obey,And draw his pal the draper?"Ellwide, this morning I've dropp'd in—Our trade is very slack;For that I shouldn't care a pin,But I've a bill come back."Any loose cash you have to spare,I wish that you would lend;In these dilemmas I'm awareThere's nothing like a friend."Cries Ellwide, while his bag of bluntHe hides from hapless Snob,"Thro' the whole house if you were to huntYou wouldn't find a bob."I'm sorry it should happen so,But poverty's no crime;You're always welcome here, you know—Look in some other time.
Would you a Sov'reign's value know—Let this be quickly done;To some dear friend or neighbour go,And try to borrow one.Now drunkenness has had its day,Snob's ways and means grow taper;But why not friendship's call obey,And draw his pal the draper?"Ellwide, this morning I've dropp'd in—Our trade is very slack;For that I shouldn't care a pin,But I've a bill come back."Any loose cash you have to spare,I wish that you would lend;In these dilemmas I'm awareThere's nothing like a friend."Cries Ellwide, while his bag of bluntHe hides from hapless Snob,"Thro' the whole house if you were to huntYou wouldn't find a bob."I'm sorry it should happen so,But poverty's no crime;You're always welcome here, you know—Look in some other time.
Would you a Sov'reign's value know—Let this be quickly done;To some dear friend or neighbour go,And try to borrow one.
Would you a Sov'reign's value know—
Let this be quickly done;
To some dear friend or neighbour go,
And try to borrow one.
Now drunkenness has had its day,Snob's ways and means grow taper;But why not friendship's call obey,And draw his pal the draper?
Now drunkenness has had its day,
Snob's ways and means grow taper;
But why not friendship's call obey,
And draw his pal the draper?
"Ellwide, this morning I've dropp'd in—Our trade is very slack;For that I shouldn't care a pin,But I've a bill come back.
"Ellwide, this morning I've dropp'd in—
Our trade is very slack;
For that I shouldn't care a pin,
But I've a bill come back.
"Any loose cash you have to spare,I wish that you would lend;In these dilemmas I'm awareThere's nothing like a friend."
"Any loose cash you have to spare,
I wish that you would lend;
In these dilemmas I'm aware
There's nothing like a friend."
Cries Ellwide, while his bag of bluntHe hides from hapless Snob,"Thro' the whole house if you were to huntYou wouldn't find a bob.
Cries Ellwide, while his bag of blunt
He hides from hapless Snob,
"Thro' the whole house if you were to hunt
You wouldn't find a bob.
"I'm sorry it should happen so,But poverty's no crime;You're always welcome here, you know—Look in some other time.
"I'm sorry it should happen so,
But poverty's no crime;
You're always welcome here, you know—
Look in some other time.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXIV.
STEP THE TENTH.
Step the Tenth.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
Oh! many are the ills of life,Past, present, and to come—Debt, want of cash, a scolding wife,And last, not least, a Bum.Ah! who can tell, but those who knowOf poverty the pangs,When, floored by fate, to quod we go,In ruthless Bailiff's fangs?"And must I, then, to prison go,"And leave my wife and cub?"Farewell to larking and to grog—Farewell my Funny Club."The sun of jollity has set,"And ruin's day has risen;"Alack a day! that love of wet"Should drive a man to prison."Clean'd out, and down upon your luck,'Tis needless to complain;And publican and butcher PluckPresent their bills in vain."Now, blow my carcase, things look queer,"This here's a pretty job;"Two rare long bills for meat and beer—"You've done us, Master Snob."
Oh! many are the ills of life,Past, present, and to come—Debt, want of cash, a scolding wife,And last, not least, a Bum.Ah! who can tell, but those who knowOf poverty the pangs,When, floored by fate, to quod we go,In ruthless Bailiff's fangs?"And must I, then, to prison go,"And leave my wife and cub?"Farewell to larking and to grog—Farewell my Funny Club."The sun of jollity has set,"And ruin's day has risen;"Alack a day! that love of wet"Should drive a man to prison."Clean'd out, and down upon your luck,'Tis needless to complain;And publican and butcher PluckPresent their bills in vain."Now, blow my carcase, things look queer,"This here's a pretty job;"Two rare long bills for meat and beer—"You've done us, Master Snob."
Oh! many are the ills of life,Past, present, and to come—Debt, want of cash, a scolding wife,And last, not least, a Bum.
Oh! many are the ills of life,
Past, present, and to come—
Debt, want of cash, a scolding wife,
And last, not least, a Bum.
Ah! who can tell, but those who knowOf poverty the pangs,When, floored by fate, to quod we go,In ruthless Bailiff's fangs?
Ah! who can tell, but those who know
Of poverty the pangs,
When, floored by fate, to quod we go,
In ruthless Bailiff's fangs?
"And must I, then, to prison go,"And leave my wife and cub?"Farewell to larking and to grog—Farewell my Funny Club.
"And must I, then, to prison go,
"And leave my wife and cub?
"Farewell to larking and to grog—
Farewell my Funny Club.
"The sun of jollity has set,"And ruin's day has risen;"Alack a day! that love of wet"Should drive a man to prison."
"The sun of jollity has set,
"And ruin's day has risen;
"Alack a day! that love of wet
"Should drive a man to prison."
Clean'd out, and down upon your luck,'Tis needless to complain;And publican and butcher PluckPresent their bills in vain.
Clean'd out, and down upon your luck,
'Tis needless to complain;
And publican and butcher Pluck
Present their bills in vain.
"Now, blow my carcase, things look queer,"This here's a pretty job;"Two rare long bills for meat and beer—"You've done us, Master Snob."
"Now, blow my carcase, things look queer,
"This here's a pretty job;
"Two rare long bills for meat and beer—
"You've done us, Master Snob."
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXV.
STEP THE ELEVENTH.
Step the Eleventh.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
Oh! how delightful is the hourThat sets the hapless Debtor free;When, rescued from the Gaoler's power,He breaths the air of liberty!Dejected, pale, and worn with grief,Deserted by each sunshine friend,Where shall poor Snob obtain relief?How shall his prison troubles end?Cheer up thy drooping heart, old boy.And bid thy partner dry her tears;On thee hath dawn'd a day of joy—A brother and a friend appears.He comes to ope thy prison door,To save thee in the hour of sadness—Thy fainting spirit to restore,And cheer it with the oil of gladness.With fortune's favours blest again,Thy sky no more is overcast—From drink and Funny Clubs refrain,And take sad warning by the past.So shall you shun domestic strife,And discord's angry tongue shall cease;And brightly, at the close of life,Your sun shall set in joy and peace.
Oh! how delightful is the hourThat sets the hapless Debtor free;When, rescued from the Gaoler's power,He breaths the air of liberty!Dejected, pale, and worn with grief,Deserted by each sunshine friend,Where shall poor Snob obtain relief?How shall his prison troubles end?Cheer up thy drooping heart, old boy.And bid thy partner dry her tears;On thee hath dawn'd a day of joy—A brother and a friend appears.He comes to ope thy prison door,To save thee in the hour of sadness—Thy fainting spirit to restore,And cheer it with the oil of gladness.With fortune's favours blest again,Thy sky no more is overcast—From drink and Funny Clubs refrain,And take sad warning by the past.So shall you shun domestic strife,And discord's angry tongue shall cease;And brightly, at the close of life,Your sun shall set in joy and peace.
Oh! how delightful is the hourThat sets the hapless Debtor free;When, rescued from the Gaoler's power,He breaths the air of liberty!
Oh! how delightful is the hour
That sets the hapless Debtor free;
When, rescued from the Gaoler's power,
He breaths the air of liberty!
Dejected, pale, and worn with grief,Deserted by each sunshine friend,Where shall poor Snob obtain relief?How shall his prison troubles end?
Dejected, pale, and worn with grief,
Deserted by each sunshine friend,
Where shall poor Snob obtain relief?
How shall his prison troubles end?
Cheer up thy drooping heart, old boy.And bid thy partner dry her tears;On thee hath dawn'd a day of joy—A brother and a friend appears.
Cheer up thy drooping heart, old boy.
And bid thy partner dry her tears;
On thee hath dawn'd a day of joy—
A brother and a friend appears.
He comes to ope thy prison door,To save thee in the hour of sadness—Thy fainting spirit to restore,And cheer it with the oil of gladness.
He comes to ope thy prison door,
To save thee in the hour of sadness—
Thy fainting spirit to restore,
And cheer it with the oil of gladness.
With fortune's favours blest again,Thy sky no more is overcast—From drink and Funny Clubs refrain,And take sad warning by the past.
With fortune's favours blest again,
Thy sky no more is overcast—
From drink and Funny Clubs refrain,
And take sad warning by the past.
So shall you shun domestic strife,And discord's angry tongue shall cease;And brightly, at the close of life,Your sun shall set in joy and peace.
So shall you shun domestic strife,
And discord's angry tongue shall cease;
And brightly, at the close of life,
Your sun shall set in joy and peace.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXVI.
STEP THE LAST.
Step the Last.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
Can this poor sinking wretch be heOf Funny Clubs the pride—The man of cribbage, grog, and glee,Who ne'er his liquor shy'd?Farewell to Mirth? Disease and DeathAre staring in his face;And feebly now he draws his breath—His pulse declines apace.The Doctor gives no hopes, alas!The case admits no doubt,Thou dropsied victim of the glass,Thy glass is nearly out.The star of joy has set in night,And drink has done for Snob;And neighbour Coffin, opposite,Is gaping for a job.Unhappy man! the game is up;Thy moments number'd here;Thy Spouse hath brought the stirrup cup;Departure's hour is near.The Drunkard's progress may be slow—'Tis always insecure;And, by experience sad, we knowThe termination sure.
Can this poor sinking wretch be heOf Funny Clubs the pride—The man of cribbage, grog, and glee,Who ne'er his liquor shy'd?Farewell to Mirth? Disease and DeathAre staring in his face;And feebly now he draws his breath—His pulse declines apace.The Doctor gives no hopes, alas!The case admits no doubt,Thou dropsied victim of the glass,Thy glass is nearly out.The star of joy has set in night,And drink has done for Snob;And neighbour Coffin, opposite,Is gaping for a job.Unhappy man! the game is up;Thy moments number'd here;Thy Spouse hath brought the stirrup cup;Departure's hour is near.The Drunkard's progress may be slow—'Tis always insecure;And, by experience sad, we knowThe termination sure.
Can this poor sinking wretch be heOf Funny Clubs the pride—The man of cribbage, grog, and glee,Who ne'er his liquor shy'd?
Can this poor sinking wretch be he
Of Funny Clubs the pride—
The man of cribbage, grog, and glee,
Who ne'er his liquor shy'd?
Farewell to Mirth? Disease and DeathAre staring in his face;And feebly now he draws his breath—His pulse declines apace.
Farewell to Mirth? Disease and Death
Are staring in his face;
And feebly now he draws his breath—
His pulse declines apace.
The Doctor gives no hopes, alas!The case admits no doubt,Thou dropsied victim of the glass,Thy glass is nearly out.
The Doctor gives no hopes, alas!
The case admits no doubt,
Thou dropsied victim of the glass,
Thy glass is nearly out.
The star of joy has set in night,And drink has done for Snob;And neighbour Coffin, opposite,Is gaping for a job.
The star of joy has set in night,
And drink has done for Snob;
And neighbour Coffin, opposite,
Is gaping for a job.
Unhappy man! the game is up;Thy moments number'd here;Thy Spouse hath brought the stirrup cup;Departure's hour is near.
Unhappy man! the game is up;
Thy moments number'd here;
Thy Spouse hath brought the stirrup cup;
Departure's hour is near.
The Drunkard's progress may be slow—'Tis always insecure;And, by experience sad, we knowThe termination sure.
The Drunkard's progress may be slow—
'Tis always insecure;
And, by experience sad, we know
The termination sure.
The Pugilist's Progress in Nine Steps.
THEPUGILIST'SPROGRESS,INNine StepsROBERT SEYMOUR.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXVII.
THE PUGILIST'S PROGRESS.
STEP THE FIRST.
Step the First.Robert Seymour.
Robert Seymour.
And, oh! it is a pleasant thingTo mark the dawn of merit,And the progressive march to singOf true pugnacious spirit.The future Champion first observe,A thriving lusty sprout,Boldly and with unshrinking nerve,Attack his nurse's snout.Truly 'tis early days to bruise;Yet manfully he strivesAnd with effect he seems to useHis little bunch of fives.Go it, you hardest, hopeful kid!Bestow another teaser;Those active mawleys why forbidTo tap your nurse's sneezer?Go on and prosper in your race—When childhood's hours are gone,Your after years will ne'er disgraceThe promise of their dawn.May milling honours soon be thine—Soon may you learn to fib;And may your fame in history shine,With that of Spring and Cribb.
And, oh! it is a pleasant thingTo mark the dawn of merit,And the progressive march to singOf true pugnacious spirit.The future Champion first observe,A thriving lusty sprout,Boldly and with unshrinking nerve,Attack his nurse's snout.Truly 'tis early days to bruise;Yet manfully he strivesAnd with effect he seems to useHis little bunch of fives.Go it, you hardest, hopeful kid!Bestow another teaser;Those active mawleys why forbidTo tap your nurse's sneezer?Go on and prosper in your race—When childhood's hours are gone,Your after years will ne'er disgraceThe promise of their dawn.May milling honours soon be thine—Soon may you learn to fib;And may your fame in history shine,With that of Spring and Cribb.
And, oh! it is a pleasant thingTo mark the dawn of merit,And the progressive march to singOf true pugnacious spirit.
And, oh! it is a pleasant thing
To mark the dawn of merit,
And the progressive march to sing
Of true pugnacious spirit.
The future Champion first observe,A thriving lusty sprout,Boldly and with unshrinking nerve,Attack his nurse's snout.
The future Champion first observe,
A thriving lusty sprout,
Boldly and with unshrinking nerve,
Attack his nurse's snout.
Truly 'tis early days to bruise;Yet manfully he strivesAnd with effect he seems to useHis little bunch of fives.
Truly 'tis early days to bruise;
Yet manfully he strives
And with effect he seems to use
His little bunch of fives.
Go it, you hardest, hopeful kid!Bestow another teaser;Those active mawleys why forbidTo tap your nurse's sneezer?
Go it, you hardest, hopeful kid!
Bestow another teaser;
Those active mawleys why forbid
To tap your nurse's sneezer?
Go on and prosper in your race—When childhood's hours are gone,Your after years will ne'er disgraceThe promise of their dawn.
Go on and prosper in your race—
When childhood's hours are gone,
Your after years will ne'er disgrace
The promise of their dawn.
May milling honours soon be thine—Soon may you learn to fib;And may your fame in history shine,With that of Spring and Cribb.
May milling honours soon be thine—
Soon may you learn to fib;
And may your fame in history shine,
With that of Spring and Cribb.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXVIII.
STEP THE SECOND.
Step the Second.
Alas! since Cain and Abel's day,I tell it with a sigh,Brothers will cross each other's way,Turn to, and have a shy.Where'er we cast our eyes around,Throughout this vale of tears,Bones of contention will be foundTo set them by the ears.The bone, as here, may be a taw;With some, estates or wives;Some settle their disputes by law,And others with their fives.'Tis said, a truly pleasing sightAre brethren that agree;But angry brethren matched to fightAre not so well to see.How fearlessly our milling sproutAgain has got to work,And sarving his big brother out,Has fairly drawn his cork.Soon in a higher sphere he'll move,His pluck requires no spur;And none can doubt that he will proveAn ugly customer.
Alas! since Cain and Abel's day,I tell it with a sigh,Brothers will cross each other's way,Turn to, and have a shy.Where'er we cast our eyes around,Throughout this vale of tears,Bones of contention will be foundTo set them by the ears.The bone, as here, may be a taw;With some, estates or wives;Some settle their disputes by law,And others with their fives.'Tis said, a truly pleasing sightAre brethren that agree;But angry brethren matched to fightAre not so well to see.How fearlessly our milling sproutAgain has got to work,And sarving his big brother out,Has fairly drawn his cork.Soon in a higher sphere he'll move,His pluck requires no spur;And none can doubt that he will proveAn ugly customer.
Alas! since Cain and Abel's day,I tell it with a sigh,Brothers will cross each other's way,Turn to, and have a shy.
Alas! since Cain and Abel's day,
I tell it with a sigh,
Brothers will cross each other's way,
Turn to, and have a shy.
Where'er we cast our eyes around,Throughout this vale of tears,Bones of contention will be foundTo set them by the ears.
Where'er we cast our eyes around,
Throughout this vale of tears,
Bones of contention will be found
To set them by the ears.
The bone, as here, may be a taw;With some, estates or wives;Some settle their disputes by law,And others with their fives.
The bone, as here, may be a taw;
With some, estates or wives;
Some settle their disputes by law,
And others with their fives.
'Tis said, a truly pleasing sightAre brethren that agree;But angry brethren matched to fightAre not so well to see.
'Tis said, a truly pleasing sight
Are brethren that agree;
But angry brethren matched to fight
Are not so well to see.
How fearlessly our milling sproutAgain has got to work,And sarving his big brother out,Has fairly drawn his cork.
How fearlessly our milling sprout
Again has got to work,
And sarving his big brother out,
Has fairly drawn his cork.
Soon in a higher sphere he'll move,His pluck requires no spur;And none can doubt that he will proveAn ugly customer.
Soon in a higher sphere he'll move,
His pluck requires no spur;
And none can doubt that he will prove
An ugly customer.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXIX.
STEP THE THIRD
Step the Third.
The force of reason's out of date,I sing the force of fist,Which carries with it such a weight,That nothing can resist.Then idle is the hackneyed chaffAbout the march of mind;The boxer in his sleeve may laugh—He leaves that march behind.To bruising fame aspiring still,Why should his ardour cool?Our hero has contrived to millThe Champion of the School.And there in triumph he appears,With victory elate;While his opponent, drown'd in tears,Bemoans his hapless fate.The tribute of our praise receive,For you have earned it now;And victory, ere long shall weaveFresh laurels for your brow.And as we clearly see your bent,Be sure throughout your course,Instead of force of argument,Your argument is force.
The force of reason's out of date,I sing the force of fist,Which carries with it such a weight,That nothing can resist.Then idle is the hackneyed chaffAbout the march of mind;The boxer in his sleeve may laugh—He leaves that march behind.To bruising fame aspiring still,Why should his ardour cool?Our hero has contrived to millThe Champion of the School.And there in triumph he appears,With victory elate;While his opponent, drown'd in tears,Bemoans his hapless fate.The tribute of our praise receive,For you have earned it now;And victory, ere long shall weaveFresh laurels for your brow.And as we clearly see your bent,Be sure throughout your course,Instead of force of argument,Your argument is force.
The force of reason's out of date,I sing the force of fist,Which carries with it such a weight,That nothing can resist.
The force of reason's out of date,
I sing the force of fist,
Which carries with it such a weight,
That nothing can resist.
Then idle is the hackneyed chaffAbout the march of mind;The boxer in his sleeve may laugh—He leaves that march behind.
Then idle is the hackneyed chaff
About the march of mind;
The boxer in his sleeve may laugh—
He leaves that march behind.
To bruising fame aspiring still,Why should his ardour cool?Our hero has contrived to millThe Champion of the School.
To bruising fame aspiring still,
Why should his ardour cool?
Our hero has contrived to mill
The Champion of the School.
And there in triumph he appears,With victory elate;While his opponent, drown'd in tears,Bemoans his hapless fate.
And there in triumph he appears,
With victory elate;
While his opponent, drown'd in tears,
Bemoans his hapless fate.
The tribute of our praise receive,For you have earned it now;And victory, ere long shall weaveFresh laurels for your brow.
The tribute of our praise receive,
For you have earned it now;
And victory, ere long shall weave
Fresh laurels for your brow.
And as we clearly see your bent,Be sure throughout your course,Instead of force of argument,Your argument is force.
And as we clearly see your bent,
Be sure throughout your course,
Instead of force of argument,
Your argument is force.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXX.
STEP THE FOURTH.
Step the Fourth.
At the true St. Giles's slang,Of eloquence the soul,Few worthies, I believe, can bangThe Men of Dust and Coal.Go it, your hardest, Dusty Bob,For once you're not awake;Our Hero soon your precious nobWill spoil, and no mistake!Tho' a mere novice on the town,I'll bet he beats you hollow;Two Coveys are already down—And 'tother soon must follow.Egad! your topsails must be lower'd,I think you've caught a tartar;What! three to one, and yet be floor'd!My Pinks! what are you after?Pursue, brave youth, your bold career,Victorious o'er each foe;To look at, tho' you're rather queer,You're very good to go.Your sturdy frame and courage highRequire a little science—Then up your Castor you may shy,And bid the Ring defiance.
At the true St. Giles's slang,Of eloquence the soul,Few worthies, I believe, can bangThe Men of Dust and Coal.Go it, your hardest, Dusty Bob,For once you're not awake;Our Hero soon your precious nobWill spoil, and no mistake!Tho' a mere novice on the town,I'll bet he beats you hollow;Two Coveys are already down—And 'tother soon must follow.Egad! your topsails must be lower'd,I think you've caught a tartar;What! three to one, and yet be floor'd!My Pinks! what are you after?Pursue, brave youth, your bold career,Victorious o'er each foe;To look at, tho' you're rather queer,You're very good to go.Your sturdy frame and courage highRequire a little science—Then up your Castor you may shy,And bid the Ring defiance.
At the true St. Giles's slang,Of eloquence the soul,Few worthies, I believe, can bangThe Men of Dust and Coal.
At the true St. Giles's slang,
Of eloquence the soul,
Few worthies, I believe, can bang
The Men of Dust and Coal.
Go it, your hardest, Dusty Bob,For once you're not awake;Our Hero soon your precious nobWill spoil, and no mistake!
Go it, your hardest, Dusty Bob,
For once you're not awake;
Our Hero soon your precious nob
Will spoil, and no mistake!
Tho' a mere novice on the town,I'll bet he beats you hollow;Two Coveys are already down—And 'tother soon must follow.
Tho' a mere novice on the town,
I'll bet he beats you hollow;
Two Coveys are already down—
And 'tother soon must follow.
Egad! your topsails must be lower'd,I think you've caught a tartar;What! three to one, and yet be floor'd!My Pinks! what are you after?
Egad! your topsails must be lower'd,
I think you've caught a tartar;
What! three to one, and yet be floor'd!
My Pinks! what are you after?
Pursue, brave youth, your bold career,Victorious o'er each foe;To look at, tho' you're rather queer,You're very good to go.
Pursue, brave youth, your bold career,
Victorious o'er each foe;
To look at, tho' you're rather queer,
You're very good to go.
Your sturdy frame and courage highRequire a little science—Then up your Castor you may shy,And bid the Ring defiance.
Your sturdy frame and courage high
Require a little science—
Then up your Castor you may shy,
And bid the Ring defiance.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXI.
STEP THE FIFTH.
Step the Fifth.
As candid dealing is my plan,I mention without blushing,You'll scarcely meet a fighting manThat isn't fond of lushing.And whether it is beer or gin,There cannot be a doubt,That when the liquor enters in,Discretion marches out.Our Hero, from a row or spreeAlways the last to shirk,With a prime Fancy Cove we seeGo manfully to work.With all his skill and all his strength,The latter seems distress'd,And, meeting with his match at length,Will come off second best.Then ponder well, you fighting men,Nor at the yokels scoff,Or by a novice, now and then,You may get polished off.Then persevere, my hero tough,Your manly course pursue,For, with a foe, however rough,Your game must bring you through.
As candid dealing is my plan,I mention without blushing,You'll scarcely meet a fighting manThat isn't fond of lushing.And whether it is beer or gin,There cannot be a doubt,That when the liquor enters in,Discretion marches out.Our Hero, from a row or spreeAlways the last to shirk,With a prime Fancy Cove we seeGo manfully to work.With all his skill and all his strength,The latter seems distress'd,And, meeting with his match at length,Will come off second best.Then ponder well, you fighting men,Nor at the yokels scoff,Or by a novice, now and then,You may get polished off.Then persevere, my hero tough,Your manly course pursue,For, with a foe, however rough,Your game must bring you through.
As candid dealing is my plan,I mention without blushing,You'll scarcely meet a fighting manThat isn't fond of lushing.
As candid dealing is my plan,
I mention without blushing,
You'll scarcely meet a fighting man
That isn't fond of lushing.
And whether it is beer or gin,There cannot be a doubt,That when the liquor enters in,Discretion marches out.
And whether it is beer or gin,
There cannot be a doubt,
That when the liquor enters in,
Discretion marches out.
Our Hero, from a row or spreeAlways the last to shirk,With a prime Fancy Cove we seeGo manfully to work.
Our Hero, from a row or spree
Always the last to shirk,
With a prime Fancy Cove we see
Go manfully to work.
With all his skill and all his strength,The latter seems distress'd,And, meeting with his match at length,Will come off second best.
With all his skill and all his strength,
The latter seems distress'd,
And, meeting with his match at length,
Will come off second best.
Then ponder well, you fighting men,Nor at the yokels scoff,Or by a novice, now and then,You may get polished off.
Then ponder well, you fighting men,
Nor at the yokels scoff,
Or by a novice, now and then,
You may get polished off.
Then persevere, my hero tough,Your manly course pursue,For, with a foe, however rough,Your game must bring you through.
Then persevere, my hero tough,
Your manly course pursue,
For, with a foe, however rough,
Your game must bring you through.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXII.
STEP THE SIXTH
Step the Sixth.
Hail to the Ring, for I am oneThat love the Fancy's freaks,And Fate preserve the fistic fun,From Parsons and from Beaks!For I remember well the time,The golden age of fight,When poor old Dan was in his prime,And Johnson's star was bright:Then, disregarding punishment,How boldly they went in,On victory alone intent,Each did his best to win!Then every British Pugilist,To all foul play averse,Settled a fight by weight of fist,And not by weight of purse.Reviving those good days of old,Our gallant Hero see,An English boxer's fame uphold,And crown'd with victory.So may you in full splendour shine,The Stars of fight among,And may the Champion's belt be thine,And may you wear it long!
Hail to the Ring, for I am oneThat love the Fancy's freaks,And Fate preserve the fistic fun,From Parsons and from Beaks!For I remember well the time,The golden age of fight,When poor old Dan was in his prime,And Johnson's star was bright:Then, disregarding punishment,How boldly they went in,On victory alone intent,Each did his best to win!Then every British Pugilist,To all foul play averse,Settled a fight by weight of fist,And not by weight of purse.Reviving those good days of old,Our gallant Hero see,An English boxer's fame uphold,And crown'd with victory.So may you in full splendour shine,The Stars of fight among,And may the Champion's belt be thine,And may you wear it long!
Hail to the Ring, for I am oneThat love the Fancy's freaks,And Fate preserve the fistic fun,From Parsons and from Beaks!
Hail to the Ring, for I am one
That love the Fancy's freaks,
And Fate preserve the fistic fun,
From Parsons and from Beaks!
For I remember well the time,The golden age of fight,When poor old Dan was in his prime,And Johnson's star was bright:
For I remember well the time,
The golden age of fight,
When poor old Dan was in his prime,
And Johnson's star was bright:
Then, disregarding punishment,How boldly they went in,On victory alone intent,Each did his best to win!
Then, disregarding punishment,
How boldly they went in,
On victory alone intent,
Each did his best to win!
Then every British Pugilist,To all foul play averse,Settled a fight by weight of fist,And not by weight of purse.
Then every British Pugilist,
To all foul play averse,
Settled a fight by weight of fist,
And not by weight of purse.
Reviving those good days of old,Our gallant Hero see,An English boxer's fame uphold,And crown'd with victory.
Reviving those good days of old,
Our gallant Hero see,
An English boxer's fame uphold,
And crown'd with victory.
So may you in full splendour shine,The Stars of fight among,And may the Champion's belt be thine,And may you wear it long!
So may you in full splendour shine,
The Stars of fight among,
And may the Champion's belt be thine,
And may you wear it long!
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXIII.
STEP THE SEVENTH.
Step the Seventh.
Hurrah! the Champion's belt is thine,So may it long remain!And when its honours you resign,Restore it free from stain.And still your study let it beTo steer a course that's right;As moderate in victory,As resolute in fight.So, when retiring from the Ring,Your milling days shall end,Your praise the Laureate's muse shall sing—You ne'er shall lack a friend.Let honesty be still your plan,That when your race is run,The cheers of every Fancy manMay hail your setting sun.Tho' of the Pugilistic treeYou've reached the topmost bough,Fresh honours still in store may be,To crown your conqu'ring brow.O, let no crossing, while you live,Your bright escutcheon dim;And while this sound advice I give,I heave a sigh for Jem.
Hurrah! the Champion's belt is thine,So may it long remain!And when its honours you resign,Restore it free from stain.And still your study let it beTo steer a course that's right;As moderate in victory,As resolute in fight.So, when retiring from the Ring,Your milling days shall end,Your praise the Laureate's muse shall sing—You ne'er shall lack a friend.Let honesty be still your plan,That when your race is run,The cheers of every Fancy manMay hail your setting sun.Tho' of the Pugilistic treeYou've reached the topmost bough,Fresh honours still in store may be,To crown your conqu'ring brow.O, let no crossing, while you live,Your bright escutcheon dim;And while this sound advice I give,I heave a sigh for Jem.
Hurrah! the Champion's belt is thine,So may it long remain!And when its honours you resign,Restore it free from stain.
Hurrah! the Champion's belt is thine,
So may it long remain!
And when its honours you resign,
Restore it free from stain.
And still your study let it beTo steer a course that's right;As moderate in victory,As resolute in fight.
And still your study let it be
To steer a course that's right;
As moderate in victory,
As resolute in fight.
So, when retiring from the Ring,Your milling days shall end,Your praise the Laureate's muse shall sing—You ne'er shall lack a friend.
So, when retiring from the Ring,
Your milling days shall end,
Your praise the Laureate's muse shall sing—
You ne'er shall lack a friend.
Let honesty be still your plan,That when your race is run,The cheers of every Fancy manMay hail your setting sun.
Let honesty be still your plan,
That when your race is run,
The cheers of every Fancy man
May hail your setting sun.
Tho' of the Pugilistic treeYou've reached the topmost bough,Fresh honours still in store may be,To crown your conqu'ring brow.
Tho' of the Pugilistic tree
You've reached the topmost bough,
Fresh honours still in store may be,
To crown your conqu'ring brow.
O, let no crossing, while you live,Your bright escutcheon dim;And while this sound advice I give,I heave a sigh for Jem.
O, let no crossing, while you live,
Your bright escutcheon dim;
And while this sound advice I give,
I heave a sigh for Jem.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXIV.
STEP THE EIGHTH
Step the Eight.
Our Hero's fighting race is run,His course of conquest ends,The brightness of his setting sun,Still cheered by all his friends.Far pleasanter to tap his beer,And bid the liquor flow,Than tap, with punishment severe,The claret of a foe.His manly conduct, and his game,Have proudly brought him through;And let all Cross Coves see with shameWhat honesty will do.Still may prosperity increase;Blest with a blooming rib—May happiness, content, and peace,Long flourish in his crib.There may the Fancy Lads repair,A friendly bowl to drain—To puff their sorrows in the air,And bid good humour reign.And let the whining Canter see—Creature of narrow heart!—A man a Pugilist may be,Yet act a Briton's part.
Our Hero's fighting race is run,His course of conquest ends,The brightness of his setting sun,Still cheered by all his friends.Far pleasanter to tap his beer,And bid the liquor flow,Than tap, with punishment severe,The claret of a foe.His manly conduct, and his game,Have proudly brought him through;And let all Cross Coves see with shameWhat honesty will do.Still may prosperity increase;Blest with a blooming rib—May happiness, content, and peace,Long flourish in his crib.There may the Fancy Lads repair,A friendly bowl to drain—To puff their sorrows in the air,And bid good humour reign.And let the whining Canter see—Creature of narrow heart!—A man a Pugilist may be,Yet act a Briton's part.
Our Hero's fighting race is run,His course of conquest ends,The brightness of his setting sun,Still cheered by all his friends.
Our Hero's fighting race is run,
His course of conquest ends,
The brightness of his setting sun,
Still cheered by all his friends.
Far pleasanter to tap his beer,And bid the liquor flow,Than tap, with punishment severe,The claret of a foe.
Far pleasanter to tap his beer,
And bid the liquor flow,
Than tap, with punishment severe,
The claret of a foe.
His manly conduct, and his game,Have proudly brought him through;And let all Cross Coves see with shameWhat honesty will do.
His manly conduct, and his game,
Have proudly brought him through;
And let all Cross Coves see with shame
What honesty will do.
Still may prosperity increase;Blest with a blooming rib—May happiness, content, and peace,Long flourish in his crib.
Still may prosperity increase;
Blest with a blooming rib—
May happiness, content, and peace,
Long flourish in his crib.
There may the Fancy Lads repair,A friendly bowl to drain—To puff their sorrows in the air,And bid good humour reign.
There may the Fancy Lads repair,
A friendly bowl to drain—
To puff their sorrows in the air,
And bid good humour reign.
And let the whining Canter see—Creature of narrow heart!—A man a Pugilist may be,Yet act a Briton's part.
And let the whining Canter see—
Creature of narrow heart!—
A man a Pugilist may be,
Yet act a Briton's part.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXV.
STEP THE NINTH.
Step the Ninth.
Retired from business and the Ring,We bid our gallant friend farewell—His fame each Fancy Bard shall sing,And Fancy Legends long shall tell.This Silver Cup, brave man, receive—A tribute to your merit due—One sigh of deep regret we heave,And kindly say—adieu, adieu!And may the boon we now bestowBe hallowed oft with generous wine;And may the cup of kindness flowTo gallant deeds of "auld lang syne."Ye, who aspire to fistic fame,And wish a glorious race to run,Remember Belcher's deathless name,And how Tom Cribb his laurels won!This maxim strongly I impress—Let honesty your course direct,And, tho' you can't command success,You always may command respect.If to my warning you're awake,Whene'er your milling days may end,A foe thro' life you'll never make,And never will you lose a friend!
Retired from business and the Ring,We bid our gallant friend farewell—His fame each Fancy Bard shall sing,And Fancy Legends long shall tell.This Silver Cup, brave man, receive—A tribute to your merit due—One sigh of deep regret we heave,And kindly say—adieu, adieu!And may the boon we now bestowBe hallowed oft with generous wine;And may the cup of kindness flowTo gallant deeds of "auld lang syne."Ye, who aspire to fistic fame,And wish a glorious race to run,Remember Belcher's deathless name,And how Tom Cribb his laurels won!This maxim strongly I impress—Let honesty your course direct,And, tho' you can't command success,You always may command respect.If to my warning you're awake,Whene'er your milling days may end,A foe thro' life you'll never make,And never will you lose a friend!
Retired from business and the Ring,We bid our gallant friend farewell—His fame each Fancy Bard shall sing,And Fancy Legends long shall tell.
Retired from business and the Ring,
We bid our gallant friend farewell—
His fame each Fancy Bard shall sing,
And Fancy Legends long shall tell.
This Silver Cup, brave man, receive—A tribute to your merit due—One sigh of deep regret we heave,And kindly say—adieu, adieu!
This Silver Cup, brave man, receive—
A tribute to your merit due—
One sigh of deep regret we heave,
And kindly say—adieu, adieu!
And may the boon we now bestowBe hallowed oft with generous wine;And may the cup of kindness flowTo gallant deeds of "auld lang syne."
And may the boon we now bestow
Be hallowed oft with generous wine;
And may the cup of kindness flow
To gallant deeds of "auld lang syne."
Ye, who aspire to fistic fame,And wish a glorious race to run,Remember Belcher's deathless name,And how Tom Cribb his laurels won!
Ye, who aspire to fistic fame,
And wish a glorious race to run,
Remember Belcher's deathless name,
And how Tom Cribb his laurels won!
This maxim strongly I impress—Let honesty your course direct,And, tho' you can't command success,You always may command respect.
This maxim strongly I impress—
Let honesty your course direct,
And, tho' you can't command success,
You always may command respect.
If to my warning you're awake,Whene'er your milling days may end,A foe thro' life you'll never make,And never will you lose a friend!
If to my warning you're awake,
Whene'er your milling days may end,
A foe thro' life you'll never make,
And never will you lose a friend!
Gallery of Comicalities.
GALLERYOFCOMICALITIES,Embracing humorousSKETCHESBYThe BrothersR. and G. CRUIKSHANK,And others.Circa 1827-8-9.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXVI.
THE SQUIRE CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP:
OR
THE DANGER OF SPRING GUNS.
The Squire Caught in His Own Trap.
Heaven prosper you, most worthy Squire,And give you strength of nerveTo guard your hares from poacher's wire,Your pheasants to preserve.With game laws and spring guns prepareTo bring those rogues to shame,Who with unhallowed hand shall dareTo meddle with your game;And set a close and constant watchUpon the vile encroachers—So may your guns or keepers catchThe sturdy lawless poachers.What, oh! my Squire, can this be youO'ertaken by mishap!Capsiz'd by retribution due,And caught in your own trap!Ah! fortune plays some curious strokes,And many a cunning elf,Who dug a pit for other folks,Hath tumbled in himself.
Heaven prosper you, most worthy Squire,And give you strength of nerveTo guard your hares from poacher's wire,Your pheasants to preserve.With game laws and spring guns prepareTo bring those rogues to shame,Who with unhallowed hand shall dareTo meddle with your game;And set a close and constant watchUpon the vile encroachers—So may your guns or keepers catchThe sturdy lawless poachers.What, oh! my Squire, can this be youO'ertaken by mishap!Capsiz'd by retribution due,And caught in your own trap!Ah! fortune plays some curious strokes,And many a cunning elf,Who dug a pit for other folks,Hath tumbled in himself.
Heaven prosper you, most worthy Squire,And give you strength of nerveTo guard your hares from poacher's wire,Your pheasants to preserve.
Heaven prosper you, most worthy Squire,
And give you strength of nerve
To guard your hares from poacher's wire,
Your pheasants to preserve.
With game laws and spring guns prepareTo bring those rogues to shame,Who with unhallowed hand shall dareTo meddle with your game;
With game laws and spring guns prepare
To bring those rogues to shame,
Who with unhallowed hand shall dare
To meddle with your game;
And set a close and constant watchUpon the vile encroachers—So may your guns or keepers catchThe sturdy lawless poachers.
And set a close and constant watch
Upon the vile encroachers—
So may your guns or keepers catch
The sturdy lawless poachers.
What, oh! my Squire, can this be youO'ertaken by mishap!Capsiz'd by retribution due,And caught in your own trap!
What, oh! my Squire, can this be you
O'ertaken by mishap!
Capsiz'd by retribution due,
And caught in your own trap!
Ah! fortune plays some curious strokes,And many a cunning elf,Who dug a pit for other folks,Hath tumbled in himself.
Ah! fortune plays some curious strokes,
And many a cunning elf,
Who dug a pit for other folks,
Hath tumbled in himself.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXVII.
THE TEMPTATION OF OBADIAH
The Temptation of Obadiah.R. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
Oh, Damsels! hide those tempting charms!Kindle not thoughts impure!Nor from beloved Rachel's armsHer Obadiah lure!Nay, seek not with enticing wordsMy passions to assail—Begone ye naughty dickey-birds,For flesh is very frail!I cannot bear thy wanton gaze—From pinching me abstain—I must not walk in crooked ways—Nor go to Elbow Lane.But harsh to thee I will not prove,Stiff Quaker as I am;Truly, I feel my spirit moveTo treat thee with a dram.To thy petitions I incline,Though I abhor the sin:Say, wilt thou have a glass of wineOr Hodges' cordial gin?For I am fairly in thy power,And hence I cannot flee.Oh, Rachel! in this sinful hourI must not think of thee.
Oh, Damsels! hide those tempting charms!Kindle not thoughts impure!Nor from beloved Rachel's armsHer Obadiah lure!Nay, seek not with enticing wordsMy passions to assail—Begone ye naughty dickey-birds,For flesh is very frail!I cannot bear thy wanton gaze—From pinching me abstain—I must not walk in crooked ways—Nor go to Elbow Lane.But harsh to thee I will not prove,Stiff Quaker as I am;Truly, I feel my spirit moveTo treat thee with a dram.To thy petitions I incline,Though I abhor the sin:Say, wilt thou have a glass of wineOr Hodges' cordial gin?For I am fairly in thy power,And hence I cannot flee.Oh, Rachel! in this sinful hourI must not think of thee.
Oh, Damsels! hide those tempting charms!Kindle not thoughts impure!Nor from beloved Rachel's armsHer Obadiah lure!
Oh, Damsels! hide those tempting charms!
Kindle not thoughts impure!
Nor from beloved Rachel's arms
Her Obadiah lure!
Nay, seek not with enticing wordsMy passions to assail—Begone ye naughty dickey-birds,For flesh is very frail!
Nay, seek not with enticing words
My passions to assail—
Begone ye naughty dickey-birds,
For flesh is very frail!
I cannot bear thy wanton gaze—From pinching me abstain—I must not walk in crooked ways—Nor go to Elbow Lane.
I cannot bear thy wanton gaze—
From pinching me abstain—
I must not walk in crooked ways—
Nor go to Elbow Lane.
But harsh to thee I will not prove,Stiff Quaker as I am;Truly, I feel my spirit moveTo treat thee with a dram.
But harsh to thee I will not prove,
Stiff Quaker as I am;
Truly, I feel my spirit move
To treat thee with a dram.
To thy petitions I incline,Though I abhor the sin:Say, wilt thou have a glass of wineOr Hodges' cordial gin?
To thy petitions I incline,
Though I abhor the sin:
Say, wilt thou have a glass of wine
Or Hodges' cordial gin?
For I am fairly in thy power,And hence I cannot flee.Oh, Rachel! in this sinful hourI must not think of thee.
For I am fairly in thy power,
And hence I cannot flee.
Oh, Rachel! in this sinful hour
I must not think of thee.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXVIII.
THE MAN WOT MENDS THE SOVEREIGN'S WAYS.
The Man wot Mends the Sovereign's Ways.
"The man wot mends the Sovereign's ways"—What will the satire end in?The world may learn, with some amaze,A Sov'reign's ways want mending.Say, Wellington, can this be you?His Majesty's adviser!Who dares so bold a course pursue—The King's Macadamiser.To say what next we may expectWould be as weak as vain;Straight-forwarddealing don't expectFrom lads inCROOKED-LANE.What right have folks to understandThe course that you've chalk'd out?Just show the weapon in your hand,And bid them, "Ax about."King Arthur ne'er can do amiss,Then in your schemes beSOLO;And let your motto still be this—"Sic jubeo, sic volo."And if the precious Bridge CommitteeHave in expense been rash,Punish the upstarts of the City—Abridgethem of the cash.
"The man wot mends the Sovereign's ways"—What will the satire end in?The world may learn, with some amaze,A Sov'reign's ways want mending.Say, Wellington, can this be you?His Majesty's adviser!Who dares so bold a course pursue—The King's Macadamiser.To say what next we may expectWould be as weak as vain;Straight-forwarddealing don't expectFrom lads inCROOKED-LANE.What right have folks to understandThe course that you've chalk'd out?Just show the weapon in your hand,And bid them, "Ax about."King Arthur ne'er can do amiss,Then in your schemes beSOLO;And let your motto still be this—"Sic jubeo, sic volo."And if the precious Bridge CommitteeHave in expense been rash,Punish the upstarts of the City—Abridgethem of the cash.
"The man wot mends the Sovereign's ways"—What will the satire end in?The world may learn, with some amaze,A Sov'reign's ways want mending.
"The man wot mends the Sovereign's ways"—
What will the satire end in?
The world may learn, with some amaze,
A Sov'reign's ways want mending.
Say, Wellington, can this be you?His Majesty's adviser!Who dares so bold a course pursue—The King's Macadamiser.
Say, Wellington, can this be you?
His Majesty's adviser!
Who dares so bold a course pursue—
The King's Macadamiser.
To say what next we may expectWould be as weak as vain;Straight-forwarddealing don't expectFrom lads inCROOKED-LANE.
To say what next we may expect
Would be as weak as vain;
Straight-forwarddealing don't expect
From lads inCROOKED-LANE.
What right have folks to understandThe course that you've chalk'd out?Just show the weapon in your hand,And bid them, "Ax about."
What right have folks to understand
The course that you've chalk'd out?
Just show the weapon in your hand,
And bid them, "Ax about."
King Arthur ne'er can do amiss,Then in your schemes beSOLO;And let your motto still be this—"Sic jubeo, sic volo."
King Arthur ne'er can do amiss,
Then in your schemes beSOLO;
And let your motto still be this—
"Sic jubeo, sic volo."
And if the precious Bridge CommitteeHave in expense been rash,Punish the upstarts of the City—Abridgethem of the cash.
And if the precious Bridge Committee
Have in expense been rash,
Punish the upstarts of the City—
Abridgethem of the cash.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XXXIX.
THE MAN WOT DRIVES A PAIR OF HACKS.
The Man wot Drives a Pair of Hacks.R. Cruikshank.
R. Cruikshank.
A Coach, your Honor?—Vaterman,Open the door, my Covey;To do vot's right is still my plan,And better vip ne'er drove ye.To doubt my honour, what man dare?I'd floor him for his trouble—Tho' ven I gets a drunkenFARE,'TisFAIRto charge him double.Then, as to galloping my prads,Paddington ne'er surpass'd me—Tho' they're a set of knowing lads,Right as a trivet, blaust me!I am a blade that never brags,And loves a cheerful cup;Tho' sometimes Coachee—sometimes nags—Of course must bePULL'D-UP.Of late, we've suffer'd in our trade—But grumbling's of no sarvice;These vile infernal Cabs have playedThe devil with the Jarvies.'Tis time to wash my gob with beer,Or summat short a dram on—For vats the use of standing here,And pitching so much gammon.
A Coach, your Honor?—Vaterman,Open the door, my Covey;To do vot's right is still my plan,And better vip ne'er drove ye.To doubt my honour, what man dare?I'd floor him for his trouble—Tho' ven I gets a drunkenFARE,'TisFAIRto charge him double.Then, as to galloping my prads,Paddington ne'er surpass'd me—Tho' they're a set of knowing lads,Right as a trivet, blaust me!I am a blade that never brags,And loves a cheerful cup;Tho' sometimes Coachee—sometimes nags—Of course must bePULL'D-UP.Of late, we've suffer'd in our trade—But grumbling's of no sarvice;These vile infernal Cabs have playedThe devil with the Jarvies.'Tis time to wash my gob with beer,Or summat short a dram on—For vats the use of standing here,And pitching so much gammon.
A Coach, your Honor?—Vaterman,Open the door, my Covey;To do vot's right is still my plan,And better vip ne'er drove ye.
A Coach, your Honor?—Vaterman,
Open the door, my Covey;
To do vot's right is still my plan,
And better vip ne'er drove ye.
To doubt my honour, what man dare?I'd floor him for his trouble—Tho' ven I gets a drunkenFARE,'TisFAIRto charge him double.
To doubt my honour, what man dare?
I'd floor him for his trouble—
Tho' ven I gets a drunkenFARE,
'TisFAIRto charge him double.
Then, as to galloping my prads,Paddington ne'er surpass'd me—Tho' they're a set of knowing lads,Right as a trivet, blaust me!
Then, as to galloping my prads,
Paddington ne'er surpass'd me—
Tho' they're a set of knowing lads,
Right as a trivet, blaust me!
I am a blade that never brags,And loves a cheerful cup;Tho' sometimes Coachee—sometimes nags—Of course must bePULL'D-UP.
I am a blade that never brags,
And loves a cheerful cup;
Tho' sometimes Coachee—sometimes nags—
Of course must bePULL'D-UP.
Of late, we've suffer'd in our trade—But grumbling's of no sarvice;These vile infernal Cabs have playedThe devil with the Jarvies.
Of late, we've suffer'd in our trade—
But grumbling's of no sarvice;
These vile infernal Cabs have played
The devil with the Jarvies.
'Tis time to wash my gob with beer,Or summat short a dram on—For vats the use of standing here,And pitching so much gammon.
'Tis time to wash my gob with beer,
Or summat short a dram on—
For vats the use of standing here,
And pitching so much gammon.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XL.
KING BILLY'S BEER BILL;
OR,
THE THREE B.B.B.'s
I Likes a Drop of Good Beer."I LIKES A DROP OF GOOD BEER."
"I LIKES A DROP OF GOOD BEER."
Come, one and all, both great and small,With voices loud and clear,And let us sing, bless Billy our King,Who 'bated the tax upon beer.Chorus.—For I likes a drop of good beer, I—do's,I likes a drop of good beer,And —— his eyes whoever tries,To rob a poor man of his beer.Let minister's shape the duty on Cape,And cause Port wine to be dear,So that they keep the bread and meat cheap,And gives us a drop of good beer.—For I likes, &c.• • • • •Long may King Billy reign,And be to his subjects dear,And wherever he goes we'll wollop his foes,Only give us a skin full of beer.—For we like, &c.
Come, one and all, both great and small,With voices loud and clear,And let us sing, bless Billy our King,Who 'bated the tax upon beer.Chorus.—For I likes a drop of good beer, I—do's,I likes a drop of good beer,And —— his eyes whoever tries,To rob a poor man of his beer.Let minister's shape the duty on Cape,And cause Port wine to be dear,So that they keep the bread and meat cheap,And gives us a drop of good beer.—For I likes, &c.• • • • •Long may King Billy reign,And be to his subjects dear,And wherever he goes we'll wollop his foes,Only give us a skin full of beer.—For we like, &c.
Come, one and all, both great and small,With voices loud and clear,And let us sing, bless Billy our King,Who 'bated the tax upon beer.
Come, one and all, both great and small,
With voices loud and clear,
And let us sing, bless Billy our King,
Who 'bated the tax upon beer.
Chorus.—For I likes a drop of good beer, I—do's,I likes a drop of good beer,And —— his eyes whoever tries,To rob a poor man of his beer.
Chorus.—For I likes a drop of good beer, I—do's,
I likes a drop of good beer,
And —— his eyes whoever tries,
To rob a poor man of his beer.
Let minister's shape the duty on Cape,And cause Port wine to be dear,So that they keep the bread and meat cheap,And gives us a drop of good beer.—For I likes, &c.
Let minister's shape the duty on Cape,
And cause Port wine to be dear,
So that they keep the bread and meat cheap,
And gives us a drop of good beer.—For I likes, &c.
• • • • •
Long may King Billy reign,And be to his subjects dear,And wherever he goes we'll wollop his foes,Only give us a skin full of beer.—For we like, &c.
Long may King Billy reign,
And be to his subjects dear,
And wherever he goes we'll wollop his foes,
Only give us a skin full of beer.—For we like, &c.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XLI.
SMELLING A RAT.
Smelling a Rat.
"Here, Nan, you hussy, bring a light,What mean this sword and hat?Something, I'm certain isn't right—By Heaven's, I smell a rat!"And soon the vile intruder's fateThis cudgel shall determine,I'll make it play about his pate,And sacrifice the vermin."Doubtless, that hat must own a head—That swords a sign of guilt,And, in the traitress to my bed,I'll plunge it to the hilt."Well for her swain if, to his side,His sword had still been buckled,In his heart's blood it shall be dy'dFor making me a cuckold."My wrath shall hurl my victims nowDown to the realms of Pluto!What! shall vile horns disgrace my brow,And I be dubbed Cornuto?"Ah! why evince, you winning sex,Such naughty inclination?Sure you were only born to vexThe Lords of the Creation.
"Here, Nan, you hussy, bring a light,What mean this sword and hat?Something, I'm certain isn't right—By Heaven's, I smell a rat!"And soon the vile intruder's fateThis cudgel shall determine,I'll make it play about his pate,And sacrifice the vermin."Doubtless, that hat must own a head—That swords a sign of guilt,And, in the traitress to my bed,I'll plunge it to the hilt."Well for her swain if, to his side,His sword had still been buckled,In his heart's blood it shall be dy'dFor making me a cuckold."My wrath shall hurl my victims nowDown to the realms of Pluto!What! shall vile horns disgrace my brow,And I be dubbed Cornuto?"Ah! why evince, you winning sex,Such naughty inclination?Sure you were only born to vexThe Lords of the Creation.
"Here, Nan, you hussy, bring a light,What mean this sword and hat?Something, I'm certain isn't right—By Heaven's, I smell a rat!
"Here, Nan, you hussy, bring a light,
What mean this sword and hat?
Something, I'm certain isn't right—
By Heaven's, I smell a rat!
"And soon the vile intruder's fateThis cudgel shall determine,I'll make it play about his pate,And sacrifice the vermin.
"And soon the vile intruder's fate
This cudgel shall determine,
I'll make it play about his pate,
And sacrifice the vermin.
"Doubtless, that hat must own a head—That swords a sign of guilt,And, in the traitress to my bed,I'll plunge it to the hilt.
"Doubtless, that hat must own a head—
That swords a sign of guilt,
And, in the traitress to my bed,
I'll plunge it to the hilt.
"Well for her swain if, to his side,His sword had still been buckled,In his heart's blood it shall be dy'dFor making me a cuckold.
"Well for her swain if, to his side,
His sword had still been buckled,
In his heart's blood it shall be dy'd
For making me a cuckold.
"My wrath shall hurl my victims nowDown to the realms of Pluto!What! shall vile horns disgrace my brow,And I be dubbed Cornuto?"
"My wrath shall hurl my victims now
Down to the realms of Pluto!
What! shall vile horns disgrace my brow,
And I be dubbed Cornuto?"
Ah! why evince, you winning sex,Such naughty inclination?Sure you were only born to vexThe Lords of the Creation.
Ah! why evince, you winning sex,
Such naughty inclination?
Sure you were only born to vex
The Lords of the Creation.
GALLERY OF COMICALITIES—No. XLII.
CONTEMPT.