THE BEGGARS.A New Song.

Of all the trades a - go - ing, sure abeg - gar is the best, So said a good oldEng - lish song, which spoke the truth in jest; and a-beg - ging we will go, will go, willgo, and a - beg - ging we will go.

Of all the trades a - go - ing, sure a

beg - gar is the best, So said a good old

Eng - lish song, which spoke the truth in jest; and a-

beg - ging we will go, will go, will

go, and a - beg - ging we will go.

Of all the beggars going, who prey on public pence,The Whig excels in wants and woes, in tricks and impudence;So a begging we will go, will go, will go, so a begging we will go.The beggar in the public ways, his ills, as merits shews,Is lame, or blind, or idiot-struck, or wants his hands or toes;When a begging he will go, will go, will go, when a begging he will go.So, by their faults, the starving Whigs attempt to raise the wind,In Council, fools—in action, lame—in understanding, blind;And a begging they do go, do go, do go, and a begging they do go.Old Charles was the leader, the Bampfylde Moore Carew,Of that audacious, lying, tricking, filthy, drunken crew;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.This cunning Fox, he pray'd, and whined, and swore from door to door,That fall'n from a good estate, his virtues kept him poor;So a begging he did go, did go, did go, so a begging he did go.In fact, the rogue play'd, wench'd, and drank two sinecures away,And only begg'd to have the means to wench, and drink, and play;So a begging he did go, did go, did go, so a begging he did go.And all the Club at Brookes's, most generous of men—Gave readily, what they were sure of—winning back again.When a begging he did go, did go, did go, when a begging he did go.Scots Gerald next went begging, a sufferer by the law;He sent the French red cap about, sedition's alms to draw;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.But, whether this subscription succeeded ill or well,We never heard; but some folks say that Mackintosh could tell;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.When bloody Bellingham destroy'd a man he ne'er had known,On the lamented felon's grave their sanguine alms were strown;And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.To take man's life, by law or war, Whigs count a horrid thing,But this was an assassin of a servant of the King;So a begging they did go, did go, did go, so a begging they did go.When vulgar Hone to market brought his pointless parody,And season'd his sedition with a spice of blasphemy,Then a begging he did go, did go, did go, then a begging he did go.His graceless Grace of Bedford the bold example sets,And pays his mite to comfort him—I wish he'd pay his debts;For a begging they do go, do go, do go, for a begging they do go.And by his sire's example led, my Lord of Tavistock,Subscribes ten pounds, to prove himself—a chip of the old block:And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.And Sefton on his death-bed, as it was thought to be,Encouraged the blasphemer, just to vex the Ministry;When a begging he did go, did go, did go, when a begging he did go.When Cobbett stole the bones of Paine, it was with the intentTo raise a penny rate, to buy a seat in Parliament;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.But the pure Whigs of Coventry had quite another sense,And much preferred receiving pounds to giving him their pence;For a begging they do go, do go, do go, for a begging they do go.When guilty of a libel, the bold Burdett was found,And sentenced by a Tory Judge to pay two thousand pound,A begging he did go, did go, did go, a begging he did go.He afterwards refused the aid; but not till the accountHad shewn him that they ne'er could raise a quarter the amount,Though a begging they did go, did go, did go, though a begging they did go.From begging for the poor they took to begging for the Great,And begg'd that they might buy the Queen annuities and plate;And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.We have not heard if their success in this was bad or good,But hope it was the latter, for the sake of Matthew Wood;For a begging he did go, did go, did go, for a begging he did go.A begging he did go indeed, this patriot and sage,But 'twas for his own profit when the Queen went off the stage;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.But we have reason to suspect that this subscription pines,And is about as profitable as his Cornish mines;So a begging he will go, will go, will go, so a begging he will go.And next, lest any class of crime, unhonour'd, should escape,The tender Waithman recommends the case of Mr. Snape;And a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.We know not whether Brougham has yet subscribed, but think he must,The crime being only forgery—a petty breach of trust;So a begging they will go, will go, will go, so a begging they will go.When Captain Romeo ran away from Naples, in a funk,With nothing but a pound of maccaroni in his trunk,A begging he did go, did go, did go, a begging he did go.To keep this pilot of the cause of Italy afloat,Enthusiast Bennett's generous hand subscribes—a one-pound note!And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.We have not breath to spend on all the vicious or the vile—On Wooler, Watson, Waddington, Hunt, Honey, and Carlile,But a begging they all go, all go, all go, but a begging they all go.From all the jails, in all the land, their begging-boxes spread,And e'en the grave, at Faction's call, delivers up its dead;And a begging they do go, do go, do go, and a begging they do go.But lastly comes a beggar-man, who would be knighthood's shame,But that the title he assumes is only a false name;When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.The soldier, or the sailor, who accosts one in the street,Can shew the scars he got, or tell the enemy he beat;When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.But here's a bold impostor, the sauciest of the batch,Who never won a fight at all, and never got a scratch;Yet a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.He has not dealt in blows and blood as silly people think,But is a very hero,—in the way of pen and ink;But a begging he does go, does go, does go, but a begging he does go.And thus he can produce us, of the battles he has seen,Certificates on paper—having none upon his skin,When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.While other soldiers Paris took, and France at freedom set,This rival hero storm'd a jail, and rescued Lavalette.And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.So as from no French foeman's head he ere won laurel leaf,He hires a French advocate to praise him from his brief;And a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.Thus we have seen subscriptions which disgrace our factious times,For every shade, both light and deep, of follies and of crimes;When a begging they do go, do go, do go, when a begging they do go.For drunkards, gamblers, libellers, thieves, smugglers, defamators,For forgers and blasphemers, and for murderers and traitors,A begging they do go, do go, do go, a begging they do go.To Wilson's list we wish success; because we hope the moneyWill go to the poor families of Francis and of Hopney;Since a begging they do go, do go, do go, since a begging they do go.For all folks must agree, else differ how they may,That they were kill'd upon the field, whence Wilson sneak'd away;Though a begging he does go, does go, does go, though a begging he does go.

Of all the beggars going, who prey on public pence,The Whig excels in wants and woes, in tricks and impudence;So a begging we will go, will go, will go, so a begging we will go.

Of all the beggars going, who prey on public pence,

The Whig excels in wants and woes, in tricks and impudence;

So a begging we will go, will go, will go, so a begging we will go.

The beggar in the public ways, his ills, as merits shews,Is lame, or blind, or idiot-struck, or wants his hands or toes;When a begging he will go, will go, will go, when a begging he will go.

The beggar in the public ways, his ills, as merits shews,

Is lame, or blind, or idiot-struck, or wants his hands or toes;

When a begging he will go, will go, will go, when a begging he will go.

So, by their faults, the starving Whigs attempt to raise the wind,In Council, fools—in action, lame—in understanding, blind;And a begging they do go, do go, do go, and a begging they do go.

So, by their faults, the starving Whigs attempt to raise the wind,

In Council, fools—in action, lame—in understanding, blind;

And a begging they do go, do go, do go, and a begging they do go.

Old Charles was the leader, the Bampfylde Moore Carew,Of that audacious, lying, tricking, filthy, drunken crew;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

Old Charles was the leader, the Bampfylde Moore Carew,

Of that audacious, lying, tricking, filthy, drunken crew;

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

This cunning Fox, he pray'd, and whined, and swore from door to door,That fall'n from a good estate, his virtues kept him poor;So a begging he did go, did go, did go, so a begging he did go.

This cunning Fox, he pray'd, and whined, and swore from door to door,

That fall'n from a good estate, his virtues kept him poor;

So a begging he did go, did go, did go, so a begging he did go.

In fact, the rogue play'd, wench'd, and drank two sinecures away,And only begg'd to have the means to wench, and drink, and play;So a begging he did go, did go, did go, so a begging he did go.

In fact, the rogue play'd, wench'd, and drank two sinecures away,

And only begg'd to have the means to wench, and drink, and play;

So a begging he did go, did go, did go, so a begging he did go.

And all the Club at Brookes's, most generous of men—Gave readily, what they were sure of—winning back again.When a begging he did go, did go, did go, when a begging he did go.

And all the Club at Brookes's, most generous of men—

Gave readily, what they were sure of—winning back again.

When a begging he did go, did go, did go, when a begging he did go.

Scots Gerald next went begging, a sufferer by the law;He sent the French red cap about, sedition's alms to draw;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

Scots Gerald next went begging, a sufferer by the law;

He sent the French red cap about, sedition's alms to draw;

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

But, whether this subscription succeeded ill or well,We never heard; but some folks say that Mackintosh could tell;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

But, whether this subscription succeeded ill or well,

We never heard; but some folks say that Mackintosh could tell;

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

When bloody Bellingham destroy'd a man he ne'er had known,On the lamented felon's grave their sanguine alms were strown;And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.

When bloody Bellingham destroy'd a man he ne'er had known,

On the lamented felon's grave their sanguine alms were strown;

And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.

To take man's life, by law or war, Whigs count a horrid thing,But this was an assassin of a servant of the King;So a begging they did go, did go, did go, so a begging they did go.

To take man's life, by law or war, Whigs count a horrid thing,

But this was an assassin of a servant of the King;

So a begging they did go, did go, did go, so a begging they did go.

When vulgar Hone to market brought his pointless parody,And season'd his sedition with a spice of blasphemy,Then a begging he did go, did go, did go, then a begging he did go.

When vulgar Hone to market brought his pointless parody,

And season'd his sedition with a spice of blasphemy,

Then a begging he did go, did go, did go, then a begging he did go.

His graceless Grace of Bedford the bold example sets,And pays his mite to comfort him—I wish he'd pay his debts;For a begging they do go, do go, do go, for a begging they do go.

His graceless Grace of Bedford the bold example sets,

And pays his mite to comfort him—I wish he'd pay his debts;

For a begging they do go, do go, do go, for a begging they do go.

And by his sire's example led, my Lord of Tavistock,Subscribes ten pounds, to prove himself—a chip of the old block:And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.

And by his sire's example led, my Lord of Tavistock,

Subscribes ten pounds, to prove himself—a chip of the old block:

And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.

And Sefton on his death-bed, as it was thought to be,Encouraged the blasphemer, just to vex the Ministry;When a begging he did go, did go, did go, when a begging he did go.

And Sefton on his death-bed, as it was thought to be,

Encouraged the blasphemer, just to vex the Ministry;

When a begging he did go, did go, did go, when a begging he did go.

When Cobbett stole the bones of Paine, it was with the intentTo raise a penny rate, to buy a seat in Parliament;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

When Cobbett stole the bones of Paine, it was with the intent

To raise a penny rate, to buy a seat in Parliament;

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

But the pure Whigs of Coventry had quite another sense,And much preferred receiving pounds to giving him their pence;For a begging they do go, do go, do go, for a begging they do go.

But the pure Whigs of Coventry had quite another sense,

And much preferred receiving pounds to giving him their pence;

For a begging they do go, do go, do go, for a begging they do go.

When guilty of a libel, the bold Burdett was found,And sentenced by a Tory Judge to pay two thousand pound,A begging he did go, did go, did go, a begging he did go.

When guilty of a libel, the bold Burdett was found,

And sentenced by a Tory Judge to pay two thousand pound,

A begging he did go, did go, did go, a begging he did go.

He afterwards refused the aid; but not till the accountHad shewn him that they ne'er could raise a quarter the amount,Though a begging they did go, did go, did go, though a begging they did go.

He afterwards refused the aid; but not till the account

Had shewn him that they ne'er could raise a quarter the amount,

Though a begging they did go, did go, did go, though a begging they did go.

From begging for the poor they took to begging for the Great,And begg'd that they might buy the Queen annuities and plate;And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.

From begging for the poor they took to begging for the Great,

And begg'd that they might buy the Queen annuities and plate;

And a begging they did go, did go, did go, and a begging they did go.

We have not heard if their success in this was bad or good,But hope it was the latter, for the sake of Matthew Wood;For a begging he did go, did go, did go, for a begging he did go.

We have not heard if their success in this was bad or good,

But hope it was the latter, for the sake of Matthew Wood;

For a begging he did go, did go, did go, for a begging he did go.

A begging he did go indeed, this patriot and sage,But 'twas for his own profit when the Queen went off the stage;And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

A begging he did go indeed, this patriot and sage,

But 'twas for his own profit when the Queen went off the stage;

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

But we have reason to suspect that this subscription pines,And is about as profitable as his Cornish mines;So a begging he will go, will go, will go, so a begging he will go.

But we have reason to suspect that this subscription pines,

And is about as profitable as his Cornish mines;

So a begging he will go, will go, will go, so a begging he will go.

And next, lest any class of crime, unhonour'd, should escape,The tender Waithman recommends the case of Mr. Snape;And a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.

And next, lest any class of crime, unhonour'd, should escape,

The tender Waithman recommends the case of Mr. Snape;

And a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.

We know not whether Brougham has yet subscribed, but think he must,The crime being only forgery—a petty breach of trust;So a begging they will go, will go, will go, so a begging they will go.

We know not whether Brougham has yet subscribed, but think he must,

The crime being only forgery—a petty breach of trust;

So a begging they will go, will go, will go, so a begging they will go.

When Captain Romeo ran away from Naples, in a funk,With nothing but a pound of maccaroni in his trunk,A begging he did go, did go, did go, a begging he did go.

When Captain Romeo ran away from Naples, in a funk,

With nothing but a pound of maccaroni in his trunk,

A begging he did go, did go, did go, a begging he did go.

To keep this pilot of the cause of Italy afloat,Enthusiast Bennett's generous hand subscribes—a one-pound note!And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

To keep this pilot of the cause of Italy afloat,

Enthusiast Bennett's generous hand subscribes—a one-pound note!

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

We have not breath to spend on all the vicious or the vile—On Wooler, Watson, Waddington, Hunt, Honey, and Carlile,But a begging they all go, all go, all go, but a begging they all go.

We have not breath to spend on all the vicious or the vile—

On Wooler, Watson, Waddington, Hunt, Honey, and Carlile,

But a begging they all go, all go, all go, but a begging they all go.

From all the jails, in all the land, their begging-boxes spread,And e'en the grave, at Faction's call, delivers up its dead;And a begging they do go, do go, do go, and a begging they do go.

From all the jails, in all the land, their begging-boxes spread,

And e'en the grave, at Faction's call, delivers up its dead;

And a begging they do go, do go, do go, and a begging they do go.

But lastly comes a beggar-man, who would be knighthood's shame,But that the title he assumes is only a false name;When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.

But lastly comes a beggar-man, who would be knighthood's shame,

But that the title he assumes is only a false name;

When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.

The soldier, or the sailor, who accosts one in the street,Can shew the scars he got, or tell the enemy he beat;When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.

The soldier, or the sailor, who accosts one in the street,

Can shew the scars he got, or tell the enemy he beat;

When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.

But here's a bold impostor, the sauciest of the batch,Who never won a fight at all, and never got a scratch;Yet a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.

But here's a bold impostor, the sauciest of the batch,

Who never won a fight at all, and never got a scratch;

Yet a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.

He has not dealt in blows and blood as silly people think,But is a very hero,—in the way of pen and ink;But a begging he does go, does go, does go, but a begging he does go.

He has not dealt in blows and blood as silly people think,

But is a very hero,—in the way of pen and ink;

But a begging he does go, does go, does go, but a begging he does go.

And thus he can produce us, of the battles he has seen,Certificates on paper—having none upon his skin,When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.

And thus he can produce us, of the battles he has seen,

Certificates on paper—having none upon his skin,

When a begging he does go, does go, does go, when a begging he does go.

While other soldiers Paris took, and France at freedom set,This rival hero storm'd a jail, and rescued Lavalette.And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

While other soldiers Paris took, and France at freedom set,

This rival hero storm'd a jail, and rescued Lavalette.

And a begging he did go, did go, did go, and a begging he did go.

So as from no French foeman's head he ere won laurel leaf,He hires a French advocate to praise him from his brief;And a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.

So as from no French foeman's head he ere won laurel leaf,

He hires a French advocate to praise him from his brief;

And a begging he does go, does go, does go, and a begging he does go.

Thus we have seen subscriptions which disgrace our factious times,For every shade, both light and deep, of follies and of crimes;When a begging they do go, do go, do go, when a begging they do go.

Thus we have seen subscriptions which disgrace our factious times,

For every shade, both light and deep, of follies and of crimes;

When a begging they do go, do go, do go, when a begging they do go.

For drunkards, gamblers, libellers, thieves, smugglers, defamators,For forgers and blasphemers, and for murderers and traitors,A begging they do go, do go, do go, a begging they do go.

For drunkards, gamblers, libellers, thieves, smugglers, defamators,

For forgers and blasphemers, and for murderers and traitors,

A begging they do go, do go, do go, a begging they do go.

To Wilson's list we wish success; because we hope the moneyWill go to the poor families of Francis and of Hopney;Since a begging they do go, do go, do go, since a begging they do go.

To Wilson's list we wish success; because we hope the money

Will go to the poor families of Francis and of Hopney;

Since a begging they do go, do go, do go, since a begging they do go.

For all folks must agree, else differ how they may,That they were kill'd upon the field, whence Wilson sneak'd away;Though a begging he does go, does go, does go, though a begging he does go.

For all folks must agree, else differ how they may,

That they were kill'd upon the field, whence Wilson sneak'd away;

Though a begging he does go, does go, does go, though a begging he does go.

Tune—"Run, Neighbours, run."

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share,In all the famous projects that amuse John Bull;Run, take a peep on 'Change, for anxious crowds beset us there,Each trying which can make himself the greatest gull.No sooner are they puff'd, than an universal wish there isFor shares in mines, insurances, in foreign loans, and fisheries:No matter where the project lies, so violent the mania,In Africa, New Providence, Peru, or Pennsylvania!Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.Few folks for news very anxious at this crisis are,For marriages, and deaths, and births, no thirst exists;All take the papers in, to find out what the prices areOf shares in this or that, upon the brokers' lists.The doctor leaves his patient, the pedagogue his Lexicon,For mines of Real Monte, or for those of Anglo-Mexican:E'en Chili bonds don't cool the rage, nor those still more romantic, sir,For new canals to join the seas, Pacific and Atlantic, sir.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.At home we have projects too for draining surplus capital,And honest Master Johnny of his cash to chouse;Tho' t'other day, Judge Abbott gave a rather sharpish slap at all,And Eldon launch'd his thunder from the Upper House.Investment banks to lend a lift to people who are undone—Proposals for assurance—there's no end of that in London;And one amongst the number, who in Parliament now press their Bills,For lending cash at eight per cent. on coats and inexpressibles.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.No more with her bright pails the milkman's rosy daughter works,A Company must serve you now with milk and cream;Perhaps they've some connection with the advertising water-works,That promise to supply you from the limpid stream.Another body corporate would fain some pence and shillings get,By selling fish at Hungerford, and knocking up old Billingsgate;Another takes your linen, when it's dirty, to the suds, sir,And brings it home in carriages with four nice bits of blood, sir.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.When Greenwich coaches go by steam on roads of iron railing, sir,How pleasant it will be to see a dozen in a line;And ships of heavy burden over hills and valleys sailing, sir,Shall cross from Bristol's Channel to the Tweed or Tyne.And Dame Speculation, if she ever fully hath her ends,Will give us docks at Bermondsey, St. Saviour's, and St. Catherine's;While side-long bridges over mud shall fill the folks with wonder, sir,And lamp-light tunnels all day long, convey Cockneys under, sir.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.A tunnel underneath the sea, from Calais straight to Dover, sir,That qualmish folks may cross by land from shore to shore,With sluices made to drown the French, if e'er they would come over, sir,Has long been talk'd of, till at length 'tis thought a monstrous bore.Amongst the many scheming folks, I take it he's no ninny, sir,Who bargains with the Ashantees to fish the coast of Guinea, sir.For, secretly, 'tis known, that another brilliant view he has,Of lighting up the famous town of Timbuctoo with oil gas.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.Then a company is form'd, though not yet advertising,To build, upon a splendid scale, a large balloon,And send up tools and broken stones for fresh Mac-AdamizingThe new discover'd turnpike-roads which cross the moon.But the most inviting scheme of all, is one proposed for carryingLarge furnaces to melt the ice which hems poor Captain Parry in;They'll then have steam-boats twice a week to all the newly-seen land,And call for goods and passengers at Labrador and Greenland!Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share,

In all the famous projects that amuse John Bull;

Run, take a peep on 'Change, for anxious crowds beset us there,

Each trying which can make himself the greatest gull.

No sooner are they puff'd, than an universal wish there is

For shares in mines, insurances, in foreign loans, and fisheries:

No matter where the project lies, so violent the mania,

In Africa, New Providence, Peru, or Pennsylvania!

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

Few folks for news very anxious at this crisis are,For marriages, and deaths, and births, no thirst exists;All take the papers in, to find out what the prices areOf shares in this or that, upon the brokers' lists.The doctor leaves his patient, the pedagogue his Lexicon,For mines of Real Monte, or for those of Anglo-Mexican:E'en Chili bonds don't cool the rage, nor those still more romantic, sir,For new canals to join the seas, Pacific and Atlantic, sir.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

Few folks for news very anxious at this crisis are,

For marriages, and deaths, and births, no thirst exists;

All take the papers in, to find out what the prices are

Of shares in this or that, upon the brokers' lists.

The doctor leaves his patient, the pedagogue his Lexicon,

For mines of Real Monte, or for those of Anglo-Mexican:

E'en Chili bonds don't cool the rage, nor those still more romantic, sir,

For new canals to join the seas, Pacific and Atlantic, sir.

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

At home we have projects too for draining surplus capital,And honest Master Johnny of his cash to chouse;Tho' t'other day, Judge Abbott gave a rather sharpish slap at all,And Eldon launch'd his thunder from the Upper House.Investment banks to lend a lift to people who are undone—Proposals for assurance—there's no end of that in London;And one amongst the number, who in Parliament now press their Bills,For lending cash at eight per cent. on coats and inexpressibles.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

At home we have projects too for draining surplus capital,

And honest Master Johnny of his cash to chouse;

Tho' t'other day, Judge Abbott gave a rather sharpish slap at all,

And Eldon launch'd his thunder from the Upper House.

Investment banks to lend a lift to people who are undone—

Proposals for assurance—there's no end of that in London;

And one amongst the number, who in Parliament now press their Bills,

For lending cash at eight per cent. on coats and inexpressibles.

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

No more with her bright pails the milkman's rosy daughter works,A Company must serve you now with milk and cream;Perhaps they've some connection with the advertising water-works,That promise to supply you from the limpid stream.Another body corporate would fain some pence and shillings get,By selling fish at Hungerford, and knocking up old Billingsgate;Another takes your linen, when it's dirty, to the suds, sir,And brings it home in carriages with four nice bits of blood, sir.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

No more with her bright pails the milkman's rosy daughter works,

A Company must serve you now with milk and cream;

Perhaps they've some connection with the advertising water-works,

That promise to supply you from the limpid stream.

Another body corporate would fain some pence and shillings get,

By selling fish at Hungerford, and knocking up old Billingsgate;

Another takes your linen, when it's dirty, to the suds, sir,

And brings it home in carriages with four nice bits of blood, sir.

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

When Greenwich coaches go by steam on roads of iron railing, sir,How pleasant it will be to see a dozen in a line;And ships of heavy burden over hills and valleys sailing, sir,Shall cross from Bristol's Channel to the Tweed or Tyne.And Dame Speculation, if she ever fully hath her ends,Will give us docks at Bermondsey, St. Saviour's, and St. Catherine's;While side-long bridges over mud shall fill the folks with wonder, sir,And lamp-light tunnels all day long, convey Cockneys under, sir.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

When Greenwich coaches go by steam on roads of iron railing, sir,

How pleasant it will be to see a dozen in a line;

And ships of heavy burden over hills and valleys sailing, sir,

Shall cross from Bristol's Channel to the Tweed or Tyne.

And Dame Speculation, if she ever fully hath her ends,

Will give us docks at Bermondsey, St. Saviour's, and St. Catherine's;

While side-long bridges over mud shall fill the folks with wonder, sir,

And lamp-light tunnels all day long, convey Cockneys under, sir.

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

A tunnel underneath the sea, from Calais straight to Dover, sir,That qualmish folks may cross by land from shore to shore,With sluices made to drown the French, if e'er they would come over, sir,Has long been talk'd of, till at length 'tis thought a monstrous bore.Amongst the many scheming folks, I take it he's no ninny, sir,Who bargains with the Ashantees to fish the coast of Guinea, sir.For, secretly, 'tis known, that another brilliant view he has,Of lighting up the famous town of Timbuctoo with oil gas.Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

A tunnel underneath the sea, from Calais straight to Dover, sir,

That qualmish folks may cross by land from shore to shore,

With sluices made to drown the French, if e'er they would come over, sir,

Has long been talk'd of, till at length 'tis thought a monstrous bore.

Amongst the many scheming folks, I take it he's no ninny, sir,

Who bargains with the Ashantees to fish the coast of Guinea, sir.

For, secretly, 'tis known, that another brilliant view he has,

Of lighting up the famous town of Timbuctoo with oil gas.

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

Then a company is form'd, though not yet advertising,To build, upon a splendid scale, a large balloon,And send up tools and broken stones for fresh Mac-AdamizingThe new discover'd turnpike-roads which cross the moon.But the most inviting scheme of all, is one proposed for carryingLarge furnaces to melt the ice which hems poor Captain Parry in;They'll then have steam-boats twice a week to all the newly-seen land,And call for goods and passengers at Labrador and Greenland!Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a shareIn all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

Then a company is form'd, though not yet advertising,

To build, upon a splendid scale, a large balloon,

And send up tools and broken stones for fresh Mac-Adamizing

The new discover'd turnpike-roads which cross the moon.

But the most inviting scheme of all, is one proposed for carrying

Large furnaces to melt the ice which hems poor Captain Parry in;

They'll then have steam-boats twice a week to all the newly-seen land,

And call for goods and passengers at Labrador and Greenland!

Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share

In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.

Tune—"The Tight Little Island."

"Ye Whigs, now attend, and list to a friend,If you value a free Constitution,Every nerve let us strain for the patriots of Spain,And cry up their brave Revolution.Huzza! for the brave Revolution!Success to the brave Revolution!We'll all to a man, bawl as loud as we can,Huzza! for the brave Revolution!"When Boney invaded their country, and wadedThrough oceans of blood to make Joe king,We ne'er made a push, and cared not a rushIf Spain had a king, or had no king:But then there was no Revolution!No enlightening, wise Revolution!They only fought then, for their king back again,And not for a brave Revolution!"We once made a rout, most valiant and stout,For Naples to throw off her yoke, sirs,But Tories so wary, vow'd base CarbonariWere thieves, and their valour all smoke, sirs!To nought came their grand Revolution!Upset was their grand Revolution!Poor, thick-headed calves, they were rebels by halvesAnd made nought of their grand Revolution!"Then we spouted for weeks, in aid of the Greeks,But they proved rather lax in their works, sirs,For the brave Parguinotes, in cutting of throats,Excell'd e'en the murderous Turks, sirs;So we gave up the Greek Revolution,None thought of the Greek Revolution,Folks cared not a straw whether Turkish BashawRuled the roast—or the Greek Revolution."But Spain, with true bravery, spurning her slavery,Vows she'll have freedom, or die now,And all that she'll need will be trifles indeed,Such as arms, ammunition, and rhino!Success to her brave resolutions!And just to collect contributions,At dinner we'll meet in Bishopsgate-street,In aid of her brave resolutions!"So to feasting they went, on a Friday in Lent,And muster'd what forces they could, sirs;There was Duke San Lorenzo, with plenty of friends, O,Great Sussex, and Alderman Wood, sirs!The Spaniards push'd hard their petitionFor money to buy ammunition,But they met with a balk, for Whigs are all talk,With nought else would they help their petition.They didn't ask Hume, for fear, in a fume,At the cost of the war he'd be nibbling,So they left him to fight in the Commons all night,With Palmerston's estimates quibbling.He there with much circumlocution,Moved many a wise resolution,While the still wiser Whigs were feasting like pigs,In the cause of the grand Revolution!Don Holland of Kensington, while his Whig friends in town,Grand tavern-speeches were planning,Wrote a note just to tell the brave ArguellesHow much wiser the Whigs are than Canning."All England one feeling displays, sir,Never mind what the Minister says, sir!At him you may hoot—and the Council to boot,For England is all in a blaze, sir!"As the Whigs had for years rung peace in our ears,When for war the whole nation did burn, sirs,'Twould surely be hard, if they now were debarr'dFrom crying for war in their turn, sirs!So Mackintosh made an oration,As bold as a war proclamation,Then finish'd his boast, with this apposite toast,"May peace be preserved to the nation!"Then leave 'em to prate, and spout, and debate,We all know there's nought but a show meant;Let 'em blow hot and cold—be shy, or be bold,As the humour prevails at the moment:Let 'em cry up the grand Revolution!The gallant and brave Revolution!And all to a man—bawl as loud as they can,"Huzza! for the brave Revolution!"

"Ye Whigs, now attend, and list to a friend,

If you value a free Constitution,

Every nerve let us strain for the patriots of Spain,

And cry up their brave Revolution.

Huzza! for the brave Revolution!

Success to the brave Revolution!

We'll all to a man, bawl as loud as we can,

Huzza! for the brave Revolution!

"When Boney invaded their country, and wadedThrough oceans of blood to make Joe king,We ne'er made a push, and cared not a rushIf Spain had a king, or had no king:But then there was no Revolution!No enlightening, wise Revolution!They only fought then, for their king back again,And not for a brave Revolution!

"When Boney invaded their country, and waded

Through oceans of blood to make Joe king,

We ne'er made a push, and cared not a rush

If Spain had a king, or had no king:

But then there was no Revolution!

No enlightening, wise Revolution!

They only fought then, for their king back again,

And not for a brave Revolution!

"We once made a rout, most valiant and stout,For Naples to throw off her yoke, sirs,But Tories so wary, vow'd base CarbonariWere thieves, and their valour all smoke, sirs!To nought came their grand Revolution!Upset was their grand Revolution!Poor, thick-headed calves, they were rebels by halvesAnd made nought of their grand Revolution!

"We once made a rout, most valiant and stout,

For Naples to throw off her yoke, sirs,

But Tories so wary, vow'd base Carbonari

Were thieves, and their valour all smoke, sirs!

To nought came their grand Revolution!

Upset was their grand Revolution!

Poor, thick-headed calves, they were rebels by halves

And made nought of their grand Revolution!

"Then we spouted for weeks, in aid of the Greeks,But they proved rather lax in their works, sirs,For the brave Parguinotes, in cutting of throats,Excell'd e'en the murderous Turks, sirs;So we gave up the Greek Revolution,None thought of the Greek Revolution,Folks cared not a straw whether Turkish BashawRuled the roast—or the Greek Revolution.

"Then we spouted for weeks, in aid of the Greeks,

But they proved rather lax in their works, sirs,

For the brave Parguinotes, in cutting of throats,

Excell'd e'en the murderous Turks, sirs;

So we gave up the Greek Revolution,

None thought of the Greek Revolution,

Folks cared not a straw whether Turkish Bashaw

Ruled the roast—or the Greek Revolution.

"But Spain, with true bravery, spurning her slavery,Vows she'll have freedom, or die now,And all that she'll need will be trifles indeed,Such as arms, ammunition, and rhino!Success to her brave resolutions!And just to collect contributions,At dinner we'll meet in Bishopsgate-street,In aid of her brave resolutions!"

"But Spain, with true bravery, spurning her slavery,

Vows she'll have freedom, or die now,

And all that she'll need will be trifles indeed,

Such as arms, ammunition, and rhino!

Success to her brave resolutions!

And just to collect contributions,

At dinner we'll meet in Bishopsgate-street,

In aid of her brave resolutions!"

So to feasting they went, on a Friday in Lent,And muster'd what forces they could, sirs;There was Duke San Lorenzo, with plenty of friends, O,Great Sussex, and Alderman Wood, sirs!The Spaniards push'd hard their petitionFor money to buy ammunition,But they met with a balk, for Whigs are all talk,With nought else would they help their petition.

So to feasting they went, on a Friday in Lent,

And muster'd what forces they could, sirs;

There was Duke San Lorenzo, with plenty of friends, O,

Great Sussex, and Alderman Wood, sirs!

The Spaniards push'd hard their petition

For money to buy ammunition,

But they met with a balk, for Whigs are all talk,

With nought else would they help their petition.

They didn't ask Hume, for fear, in a fume,At the cost of the war he'd be nibbling,So they left him to fight in the Commons all night,With Palmerston's estimates quibbling.He there with much circumlocution,Moved many a wise resolution,While the still wiser Whigs were feasting like pigs,In the cause of the grand Revolution!

They didn't ask Hume, for fear, in a fume,

At the cost of the war he'd be nibbling,

So they left him to fight in the Commons all night,

With Palmerston's estimates quibbling.

He there with much circumlocution,

Moved many a wise resolution,

While the still wiser Whigs were feasting like pigs,

In the cause of the grand Revolution!

Don Holland of Kensington, while his Whig friends in town,Grand tavern-speeches were planning,Wrote a note just to tell the brave ArguellesHow much wiser the Whigs are than Canning."All England one feeling displays, sir,Never mind what the Minister says, sir!At him you may hoot—and the Council to boot,For England is all in a blaze, sir!"

Don Holland of Kensington, while his Whig friends in town,

Grand tavern-speeches were planning,

Wrote a note just to tell the brave Arguelles

How much wiser the Whigs are than Canning.

"All England one feeling displays, sir,

Never mind what the Minister says, sir!

At him you may hoot—and the Council to boot,

For England is all in a blaze, sir!"

As the Whigs had for years rung peace in our ears,When for war the whole nation did burn, sirs,'Twould surely be hard, if they now were debarr'dFrom crying for war in their turn, sirs!So Mackintosh made an oration,As bold as a war proclamation,Then finish'd his boast, with this apposite toast,"May peace be preserved to the nation!"

As the Whigs had for years rung peace in our ears,

When for war the whole nation did burn, sirs,

'Twould surely be hard, if they now were debarr'd

From crying for war in their turn, sirs!

So Mackintosh made an oration,

As bold as a war proclamation,

Then finish'd his boast, with this apposite toast,

"May peace be preserved to the nation!"

Then leave 'em to prate, and spout, and debate,We all know there's nought but a show meant;Let 'em blow hot and cold—be shy, or be bold,As the humour prevails at the moment:Let 'em cry up the grand Revolution!The gallant and brave Revolution!And all to a man—bawl as loud as they can,"Huzza! for the brave Revolution!"

Then leave 'em to prate, and spout, and debate,

We all know there's nought but a show meant;

Let 'em blow hot and cold—be shy, or be bold,

As the humour prevails at the moment:

Let 'em cry up the grand Revolution!

The gallant and brave Revolution!

And all to a man—bawl as loud as they can,

"Huzza! for the brave Revolution!"

THIS IMITATION OF BUNBURY'S "LITTLE GREY MAN,"

Preserved among the Tales of Wonder, is, without permission, inscribed to a Major-General of the British Army, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, Agent for the Ionian Islands, and a Pensioner of the present Administration, &c., &c., &c.

Oh! deep was the sorrow, and sad was the day,When death took our gracious old Monarch away,And gave us a Queen, lost to honour and fame,Whose manners are folly, whose conduct is shame;Who with aliens and vagabonds long having stroll'd,Soon caught up their morals, loose, brazen, and bold.She had traversed the globe in all quarters, to showTo what depth of debasement a Princess could go;And with front unabash'd, when her guilt was display'd,The altar insulted with impious parade;Whilst sick with disgust at a scene so profane,Not one decent female would move in her train.She paid a vile rabble to shout round her car,Her teachers, so pious, were Fellowes and Parr;Her councillors, Aldermen Waithman and Wood,Could she find nothing worse? She might try if she could.Abroad there was nothing more low than her groom,At home there are Wilson, Moore, Hobhouse, and Hume.Oh! what will the rancour of party not do!Ye Howards and Russells, this sigh is for you!To an union so base can ye bend your proud will?Yes, great though the peril, unmeasured the ill,Through the country delusion and clamour must ring,And your rivals to strike, you must menace your King.In Suffolk, to aid in so loyal a plan,From Mildenhall upstarts a little dark man;His hue it was bilious, his eyes they were ghast,Long and pale were his fingers that held a quill fast,And grimly he scowl'd, whilst his rancour and spleenDistill'd in a spurious Address to the Queen.How spotless and pure was this paragon shown!How safe, through its friends, an attack on the Throne,Their motives were wicked, their actions were base;—Some wonder'd, no doubt, at so alter'd a case,Who cannot forget, though 'tis plain thathecan,The favours they heap'd on this dark little man.From childhood the imp in the Palace was rear'd,Its bounties his parents, his kindred all shared;With rapid advancement, too rapid by half,He outstripp'd the foremost of line or of staff;But soon from the chances of service withdrew,With the profits and safety of office in view.To Liverpool, Bathurst, and colleagues he bow'd;He courted their smiles, and attachment he vow'd;Obtain'd a snug place, with the means to do ill,To some who despised, but remember it still:He was fearlessly trusted, and laugh'd in his sleeve—"Those you mean to betray you must ever deceive."Indulged by his patrons, the confident elf,No talent imagined except in himself;Of the merits of others a censor severe,Even Wellington might not escape from his sneer;But they trusted him still, not suspecting his plan,Ah, little they knew of the dark little man!Next a General's apparel he put on, so new,The coat of fine scarlet, the facings of blue,With gold all embroider'd so costly; and lastThe loop with the plume that waved high in the blast,'Twould have vex'd you at heart, if such sights ever can,To have gazed on the dizen'd-out little dark man.That Order, of Heroes the dying bequest,Its ribbon that blush'd as it cover'd his breast;The Star and the Badge that tried valour should wear,As if he had earn'd them, he took to his share:Like a pigmy he climb'd up on Honour's high tree,And blazon'd his name with a large K. C. B.Now the battle of battles was won!!—O'er his foesTriumphant the lion of England arose,And gave peace to the world.—No longer, 'twas plain,The little dark man could his office retain;Reluctant he went, but he pocketed clear,In pension and place, fifteen hundred a year.He growl'd and intrigued but in vain—he is gone!Soon forgotten by most, and regretted by none:But to sink in oblivion he cannot endure,The moment seems tempting, the victims secure.Strike! strike at your friends! The foul blow it was sped,And with terrible justice recoil'd on his head.The little dark man then he set up a yell,And the Hundred of Lackford was roused by the spell;He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin,And he grinn'd, and he shouted a horrible grin,And he laugh'd a faint laugh, and his cap up he cast;But pension and sinecure still he holds fast.When a score and three days make the age of the year,To St. Stephen's, the Lords and the Commons repair:E'er a score and three more, so the King might decreeThe country another election may see.But the brave men of Suffolk have seen through his plan,And will baffle the arts of the little dark man.

Oh! deep was the sorrow, and sad was the day,

When death took our gracious old Monarch away,

And gave us a Queen, lost to honour and fame,

Whose manners are folly, whose conduct is shame;

Who with aliens and vagabonds long having stroll'd,

Soon caught up their morals, loose, brazen, and bold.

She had traversed the globe in all quarters, to showTo what depth of debasement a Princess could go;And with front unabash'd, when her guilt was display'd,The altar insulted with impious parade;Whilst sick with disgust at a scene so profane,Not one decent female would move in her train.

She had traversed the globe in all quarters, to show

To what depth of debasement a Princess could go;

And with front unabash'd, when her guilt was display'd,

The altar insulted with impious parade;

Whilst sick with disgust at a scene so profane,

Not one decent female would move in her train.

She paid a vile rabble to shout round her car,Her teachers, so pious, were Fellowes and Parr;Her councillors, Aldermen Waithman and Wood,Could she find nothing worse? She might try if she could.Abroad there was nothing more low than her groom,At home there are Wilson, Moore, Hobhouse, and Hume.

She paid a vile rabble to shout round her car,

Her teachers, so pious, were Fellowes and Parr;

Her councillors, Aldermen Waithman and Wood,

Could she find nothing worse? She might try if she could.

Abroad there was nothing more low than her groom,

At home there are Wilson, Moore, Hobhouse, and Hume.

Oh! what will the rancour of party not do!Ye Howards and Russells, this sigh is for you!To an union so base can ye bend your proud will?Yes, great though the peril, unmeasured the ill,Through the country delusion and clamour must ring,And your rivals to strike, you must menace your King.

Oh! what will the rancour of party not do!

Ye Howards and Russells, this sigh is for you!

To an union so base can ye bend your proud will?

Yes, great though the peril, unmeasured the ill,

Through the country delusion and clamour must ring,

And your rivals to strike, you must menace your King.

In Suffolk, to aid in so loyal a plan,From Mildenhall upstarts a little dark man;His hue it was bilious, his eyes they were ghast,Long and pale were his fingers that held a quill fast,And grimly he scowl'd, whilst his rancour and spleenDistill'd in a spurious Address to the Queen.

In Suffolk, to aid in so loyal a plan,

From Mildenhall upstarts a little dark man;

His hue it was bilious, his eyes they were ghast,

Long and pale were his fingers that held a quill fast,

And grimly he scowl'd, whilst his rancour and spleen

Distill'd in a spurious Address to the Queen.

How spotless and pure was this paragon shown!How safe, through its friends, an attack on the Throne,Their motives were wicked, their actions were base;—Some wonder'd, no doubt, at so alter'd a case,Who cannot forget, though 'tis plain thathecan,The favours they heap'd on this dark little man.

How spotless and pure was this paragon shown!

How safe, through its friends, an attack on the Throne,

Their motives were wicked, their actions were base;—

Some wonder'd, no doubt, at so alter'd a case,

Who cannot forget, though 'tis plain thathecan,

The favours they heap'd on this dark little man.

From childhood the imp in the Palace was rear'd,Its bounties his parents, his kindred all shared;With rapid advancement, too rapid by half,He outstripp'd the foremost of line or of staff;But soon from the chances of service withdrew,With the profits and safety of office in view.

From childhood the imp in the Palace was rear'd,

Its bounties his parents, his kindred all shared;

With rapid advancement, too rapid by half,

He outstripp'd the foremost of line or of staff;

But soon from the chances of service withdrew,

With the profits and safety of office in view.

To Liverpool, Bathurst, and colleagues he bow'd;He courted their smiles, and attachment he vow'd;Obtain'd a snug place, with the means to do ill,To some who despised, but remember it still:He was fearlessly trusted, and laugh'd in his sleeve—"Those you mean to betray you must ever deceive."

To Liverpool, Bathurst, and colleagues he bow'd;

He courted their smiles, and attachment he vow'd;

Obtain'd a snug place, with the means to do ill,

To some who despised, but remember it still:

He was fearlessly trusted, and laugh'd in his sleeve—

"Those you mean to betray you must ever deceive."

Indulged by his patrons, the confident elf,No talent imagined except in himself;Of the merits of others a censor severe,Even Wellington might not escape from his sneer;But they trusted him still, not suspecting his plan,Ah, little they knew of the dark little man!

Indulged by his patrons, the confident elf,

No talent imagined except in himself;

Of the merits of others a censor severe,

Even Wellington might not escape from his sneer;

But they trusted him still, not suspecting his plan,

Ah, little they knew of the dark little man!

Next a General's apparel he put on, so new,The coat of fine scarlet, the facings of blue,With gold all embroider'd so costly; and lastThe loop with the plume that waved high in the blast,'Twould have vex'd you at heart, if such sights ever can,To have gazed on the dizen'd-out little dark man.

Next a General's apparel he put on, so new,

The coat of fine scarlet, the facings of blue,

With gold all embroider'd so costly; and last

The loop with the plume that waved high in the blast,

'Twould have vex'd you at heart, if such sights ever can,

To have gazed on the dizen'd-out little dark man.

That Order, of Heroes the dying bequest,Its ribbon that blush'd as it cover'd his breast;The Star and the Badge that tried valour should wear,As if he had earn'd them, he took to his share:Like a pigmy he climb'd up on Honour's high tree,And blazon'd his name with a large K. C. B.

That Order, of Heroes the dying bequest,

Its ribbon that blush'd as it cover'd his breast;

The Star and the Badge that tried valour should wear,

As if he had earn'd them, he took to his share:

Like a pigmy he climb'd up on Honour's high tree,

And blazon'd his name with a large K. C. B.

Now the battle of battles was won!!—O'er his foesTriumphant the lion of England arose,And gave peace to the world.—No longer, 'twas plain,The little dark man could his office retain;Reluctant he went, but he pocketed clear,In pension and place, fifteen hundred a year.

Now the battle of battles was won!!—O'er his foes

Triumphant the lion of England arose,

And gave peace to the world.—No longer, 'twas plain,

The little dark man could his office retain;

Reluctant he went, but he pocketed clear,

In pension and place, fifteen hundred a year.

He growl'd and intrigued but in vain—he is gone!Soon forgotten by most, and regretted by none:But to sink in oblivion he cannot endure,The moment seems tempting, the victims secure.Strike! strike at your friends! The foul blow it was sped,And with terrible justice recoil'd on his head.

He growl'd and intrigued but in vain—he is gone!

Soon forgotten by most, and regretted by none:

But to sink in oblivion he cannot endure,

The moment seems tempting, the victims secure.

Strike! strike at your friends! The foul blow it was sped,

And with terrible justice recoil'd on his head.

The little dark man then he set up a yell,And the Hundred of Lackford was roused by the spell;He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin,And he grinn'd, and he shouted a horrible grin,And he laugh'd a faint laugh, and his cap up he cast;But pension and sinecure still he holds fast.

The little dark man then he set up a yell,

And the Hundred of Lackford was roused by the spell;

He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin,

And he grinn'd, and he shouted a horrible grin,

And he laugh'd a faint laugh, and his cap up he cast;

But pension and sinecure still he holds fast.

When a score and three days make the age of the year,To St. Stephen's, the Lords and the Commons repair:E'er a score and three more, so the King might decreeThe country another election may see.But the brave men of Suffolk have seen through his plan,And will baffle the arts of the little dark man.

When a score and three days make the age of the year,

To St. Stephen's, the Lords and the Commons repair:

E'er a score and three more, so the King might decree

The country another election may see.

But the brave men of Suffolk have seen through his plan,

And will baffle the arts of the little dark man.

Rich and furr'd was the robe he wore,And a bright gold chain on his breast he bore;But, och! his speaking was far beyondWaithman himself, with his snow-white wand."Humpty! do'st thou not fear to strayWith the Lady, so far from the King's highway?Are Britain's sons so dull or so cold,As still to be cheated with tinsel for gold?""Mistress Dumpty! I feel not the least alarm—No placemen ever dare do me harm;For though they vote her and me a bore,They love their own heads, and their places more."On he went—in her coach to ride,While he cozen'd the Lady who sat by his sideAnd lost for ever was she who was ledBy Humpty's honour—and Dumpty's head!

Rich and furr'd was the robe he wore,And a bright gold chain on his breast he bore;But, och! his speaking was far beyondWaithman himself, with his snow-white wand.

Rich and furr'd was the robe he wore,

And a bright gold chain on his breast he bore;

But, och! his speaking was far beyond

Waithman himself, with his snow-white wand.

"Humpty! do'st thou not fear to strayWith the Lady, so far from the King's highway?Are Britain's sons so dull or so cold,As still to be cheated with tinsel for gold?"

"Humpty! do'st thou not fear to stray

With the Lady, so far from the King's highway?

Are Britain's sons so dull or so cold,

As still to be cheated with tinsel for gold?"

"Mistress Dumpty! I feel not the least alarm—No placemen ever dare do me harm;For though they vote her and me a bore,They love their own heads, and their places more."

"Mistress Dumpty! I feel not the least alarm—

No placemen ever dare do me harm;

For though they vote her and me a bore,

They love their own heads, and their places more."

On he went—in her coach to ride,While he cozen'd the Lady who sat by his sideAnd lost for ever was she who was ledBy Humpty's honour—and Dumpty's head!

On he went—in her coach to ride,

While he cozen'd the Lady who sat by his side

And lost for ever was she who was led

By Humpty's honour—and Dumpty's head!

While Johnny Gale Jones the memorial was keeping,Of penny subscriptions from traitors and thieves,Hard by at his elbow, sly Watson stood peeping,And counting the sums at the end of the leaves.But oh, what a grin on his visage shone bright,When, after perusing whole pages of shame—'Midst hissoi-disantbetters,In vilely-form'd letters,The Doctor beheld little Waddington's name!"Hail, imp of sedition!" he cried, while he noddedHis head, and the spectacles drew from his eyes,"Magnanimous pigmy! since Carlile's been quodded,We wanted some shopman, about of your size!For, though many we've had, yet unbless'd was their lot,When Murray and Sharpe with the constables came,And for want of good bailThey were sent off to jail,And their mittimus sign'd with an Alderman's name."Then come, the last crown of thy toils is remaining,The greatest, the grandest that thou hast yet known;Though proud was thy task my placard-board sustaining,Still prouder to utter placards of thine own!High perch'd on that counter, where Carlile once stood,Issue torrents of blasphemy, treason, and shame,While snug in your box,Well secur'd with two locks,We'll defy them to get little Waddington's name.

While Johnny Gale Jones the memorial was keeping,

Of penny subscriptions from traitors and thieves,

Hard by at his elbow, sly Watson stood peeping,

And counting the sums at the end of the leaves.

But oh, what a grin on his visage shone bright,

When, after perusing whole pages of shame—

'Midst hissoi-disantbetters,

In vilely-form'd letters,

The Doctor beheld little Waddington's name!

"Hail, imp of sedition!" he cried, while he noddedHis head, and the spectacles drew from his eyes,"Magnanimous pigmy! since Carlile's been quodded,We wanted some shopman, about of your size!For, though many we've had, yet unbless'd was their lot,When Murray and Sharpe with the constables came,And for want of good bailThey were sent off to jail,And their mittimus sign'd with an Alderman's name."

"Hail, imp of sedition!" he cried, while he nodded

His head, and the spectacles drew from his eyes,

"Magnanimous pigmy! since Carlile's been quodded,

We wanted some shopman, about of your size!

For, though many we've had, yet unbless'd was their lot,

When Murray and Sharpe with the constables came,

And for want of good bail

They were sent off to jail,

And their mittimus sign'd with an Alderman's name."

Then come, the last crown of thy toils is remaining,The greatest, the grandest that thou hast yet known;Though proud was thy task my placard-board sustaining,Still prouder to utter placards of thine own!High perch'd on that counter, where Carlile once stood,Issue torrents of blasphemy, treason, and shame,While snug in your box,Well secur'd with two locks,We'll defy them to get little Waddington's name.

Then come, the last crown of thy toils is remaining,

The greatest, the grandest that thou hast yet known;

Though proud was thy task my placard-board sustaining,

Still prouder to utter placards of thine own!

High perch'd on that counter, where Carlile once stood,

Issue torrents of blasphemy, treason, and shame,

While snug in your box,

Well secur'd with two locks,

We'll defy them to get little Waddington's name.

The Old Whig Club is meeting, Duke,'Tis now the time for eating, Duke,How sweet to joke,To sing and smoke,While these foolish men stand treating, Duke!Then harangue, and not in vain, my Duke,At them again and again, my Duke!The best of all waysTo speak in these days,Is to steal a few thoughts from Tom Paine, my Duke!Now all the Whigs are sleeping, Duke,But the mob, through the casement peeping, Duke,At you and your star,Which we really areSurpris'd at your meanness in keeping, Duke!Go home, your task is done, my Duke,The watchmen's boxes shun, my Duke,Or, in watching the flightOf traitors by night,They may happen to take you for one, my Duke!

The Old Whig Club is meeting, Duke,

'Tis now the time for eating, Duke,

How sweet to joke,

To sing and smoke,

While these foolish men stand treating, Duke!

Then harangue, and not in vain, my Duke,

At them again and again, my Duke!

The best of all ways

To speak in these days,

Is to steal a few thoughts from Tom Paine, my Duke!

Now all the Whigs are sleeping, Duke,But the mob, through the casement peeping, Duke,At you and your star,Which we really areSurpris'd at your meanness in keeping, Duke!Go home, your task is done, my Duke,The watchmen's boxes shun, my Duke,Or, in watching the flightOf traitors by night,They may happen to take you for one, my Duke!

Now all the Whigs are sleeping, Duke,

But the mob, through the casement peeping, Duke,

At you and your star,

Which we really are

Surpris'd at your meanness in keeping, Duke!

Go home, your task is done, my Duke,

The watchmen's boxes shun, my Duke,

Or, in watching the flight

Of traitors by night,

They may happen to take you for one, my Duke!

Ye Aldermen! list to my lay—Oh, list, ere your bumpers ye fill—Her Majesty's dead!—lack-a-day!She remember'd me not in her will.Oh, folly! oh baneful ill-luck!That I ever to court her begun;She was Queen, and I could not but suck—But she died, and poor Matty's undone!Perhaps I was void of all thought,Perhaps it was plain to foresee,That a Queen so complete would be soughtBy a courtier more knowing than me.But self-love each hope can inspire,It banisheswisdomthe while;And I thought she would surely admireMy countenance, whiskers, and smile.She is dead though, and I am undone!Ye that witness the woes I endure,Oh let me instruct you to shunWhat I cannot instruct you to cure:Beware how you loiter in vainAmid nymphs of a higher degree;It is not for me to explainHow fair and how fickle they be.Alas! that her lawyers e'er met,They alone were the cause of my woes;Their tricks I can never forget—Those lawyers undid my repose.Yet theTimesmay diminish my pain,If theStatesmanandTravelleragree—Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain—Yes, theTimesshall have comfort for me.Mrs. W—d, ope your doors then apace;To your deepest recesses I fly;I must hide my poor woe-begone face.I must vanish from every eye.But my sad, my deplorable lay,My reed shall resound with it still:—How her Majesty died t'other day,And remember'd me not in her will.

Ye Aldermen! list to my lay—

Oh, list, ere your bumpers ye fill—

Her Majesty's dead!—lack-a-day!

She remember'd me not in her will.

Oh, folly! oh baneful ill-luck!

That I ever to court her begun;

She was Queen, and I could not but suck—

But she died, and poor Matty's undone!

Perhaps I was void of all thought,Perhaps it was plain to foresee,That a Queen so complete would be soughtBy a courtier more knowing than me.But self-love each hope can inspire,It banisheswisdomthe while;And I thought she would surely admireMy countenance, whiskers, and smile.

Perhaps I was void of all thought,

Perhaps it was plain to foresee,

That a Queen so complete would be sought

By a courtier more knowing than me.

But self-love each hope can inspire,

It banisheswisdomthe while;

And I thought she would surely admire

My countenance, whiskers, and smile.

She is dead though, and I am undone!Ye that witness the woes I endure,Oh let me instruct you to shunWhat I cannot instruct you to cure:Beware how you loiter in vainAmid nymphs of a higher degree;It is not for me to explainHow fair and how fickle they be.

She is dead though, and I am undone!

Ye that witness the woes I endure,

Oh let me instruct you to shun

What I cannot instruct you to cure:

Beware how you loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of a higher degree;

It is not for me to explain

How fair and how fickle they be.

Alas! that her lawyers e'er met,They alone were the cause of my woes;Their tricks I can never forget—Those lawyers undid my repose.Yet theTimesmay diminish my pain,If theStatesmanandTravelleragree—Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain—Yes, theTimesshall have comfort for me.

Alas! that her lawyers e'er met,

They alone were the cause of my woes;

Their tricks I can never forget—

Those lawyers undid my repose.

Yet theTimesmay diminish my pain,

If theStatesmanandTravelleragree—

Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain—

Yes, theTimesshall have comfort for me.

Mrs. W—d, ope your doors then apace;To your deepest recesses I fly;I must hide my poor woe-begone face.I must vanish from every eye.But my sad, my deplorable lay,My reed shall resound with it still:—How her Majesty died t'other day,And remember'd me not in her will.

Mrs. W—d, ope your doors then apace;

To your deepest recesses I fly;

I must hide my poor woe-begone face.

I must vanish from every eye.

But my sad, my deplorable lay,

My reed shall resound with it still:—

How her Majesty died t'other day,

And remember'd me not in her will.

THEODORE OF PUT-KNEE.

Amy bad knee.Dmy well leg.Bmy beard.Ethe place where my hair was when I was young.Cmy crural tendon," or muscle—" or artery—" or something,—as big as your fist.

1820.

TENTAMEN;

OR,

AN ESSAY TOWARDS THE HISTORY

WHITTINGTON,

Some Time

LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.

VICESIMUS BLINKINSOP, L.L.D., F.R.S., A.S.S., &c.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM WRIGHT,

46, FLEET-STREET.

1820.

"Hook had returned to England penniless; but he brought with him stores, the result of increased knowledge of the world and of an observation active under every vicissitude of fortune, which, with his singular facility in composition, were readily reducible to current coin. According, notwithstanding the harassing and protracted business at the Audit-office, he found time to strike off a succession of papers and pamphlets, the proceeds of which for some months formed his sole income. These, for obvious reasons, were published anonymously; and from this fact, and that of their being for the most part mere hits at the politics of the day, they have, with scarcely an exception, been swept from the face of the literary globe, and are only to be met with in the museums of such curious collectors as Tom Hill and the like."One of thesejeux d'esprit, entitled 'Tentamen; or, an Essay towards the History of Whittington, some time Lord Mayor of London, by Dr. Vicesimus Blinkinsop,' produced no little sensation, and ran rapidly through two or three editions. Hook, however, we believe, was not suspected to be the author. Thisopusculum, which is now extremely rare, and a copy of which would fetch quadruple its original price, was an attack, conducted in a strain of elaborate irony, equal to the happiest efforts of Martinus Scriblerus, upon the worthy Alderman Wood (a portrait of whom adorned the title-page), and his royalprotégée."—Barham.

"One of thesejeux d'esprit, entitled 'Tentamen; or, an Essay towards the History of Whittington, some time Lord Mayor of London, by Dr. Vicesimus Blinkinsop,' produced no little sensation, and ran rapidly through two or three editions. Hook, however, we believe, was not suspected to be the author. Thisopusculum, which is now extremely rare, and a copy of which would fetch quadruple its original price, was an attack, conducted in a strain of elaborate irony, equal to the happiest efforts of Martinus Scriblerus, upon the worthy Alderman Wood (a portrait of whom adorned the title-page), and his royalprotégée."—Barham.

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

AUGUSTUS FREDERICK, DUKE OF SUSSEX,

Earl of Inverness, and Baron Arklow:

President of the Society of Arts; Grand Master of the United Grand Lodge of the Ancient Masons of England; Colonel of the Honourable Artillery Company; Colonel Commandant of the Loyal North Britain Volunteers; Vice President of the Bible Society; of the Infirmary for Asthma, Union Street, Bishopsgate; of the London Dispensary, Artillery Street, Bishopsgate; and of the Public Dispensary, Bishop's Court, Chancery Lane; of the Universal Medical Institution, Ratcliff Highway; of theOriginalVaccine Pock Institution, Broad Street, Golden Square; of the Free Masons' Charity, St. George's Fields, and one of the Trustees of the same; Patron of the Mile End Philanthropic Society; Vice Patron of the Westminster General Dispensary, 32, Gerrard Street, Soho; of the Society for the Relief of the Ruptured Poor; of the Universal Dispensary for Children, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons; of the Lancasterian School Society, Borough Road; Patron of the Choral Fund, and of the Northern Dispensary, Duke's Road, New Road; Vice President of Queen Charlotte's Lying-in Hospital, Lisson Green; of the Benevolent Institution for delivering Married Women at their own Habitations, Hungerford Coffee House, Strand; and of the General Central Lying-in Charity, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields; Knight of the Garter; President of the Beef Steak Club; One of His Majesty'smostHonourable Privy Council; and a FISHMONGER.[27]

Sir,—Your connexion with the fine arts and the city of London so honourably celebrated in the preceding enumeration of your titles, is a combination of merits wholly unexpected and unprecedented. You alone, Sir, among the members of scientific bodies, can glory in being a Fishmonger; and you alone, among Fishmongers, can boast of being President of the Society of Arts.

Glorious, and more truly honourable, than rank or ribbons,is the list of the numerous charities of which your Royal Highness is the ostensible head. It may seem, at first sight, inconsistent with the Christian precepts to give so much notoriety to benevolent actions; but, even in this view, your Royal Highness's conduct is above all imputation: that precept applies to the hand, and not to the head; and though your Royal Highness gives your great personal weight to the chair of those associations, your worst enemy cannot say that you were ever known to give any thing else. Your left hand (which, agreeably to the scriptural suggestion, is as discerning as your Royal Highness's intellect) does certainly not know of any particular charity, performed by your Royal Highness's right hand.

You are thus enabled, Sir, to extend the sphere of your utility and beneficence. Actual donations must have had a limit; but the charity which costs nothing, may, as we see in your Royal Highness's case, be indefinitely extended, to the great encouragement and increase of the contributions of others.

To all the above mentioned distinctions, equally high, equally honourable, and equally deserved, your Royal Highness, on the principle just stated,—that you have still countenance enough to bestow on meritorious institutions,—has intimated your gracious intention of succeeding Sir Joseph Banks as President of the Royal Society. Amongst your many and obvious claims to this situation, the first is, that you are afishmonger; for thus your Royal Highness will be in a condition to solve that celebrated problem propounded to the Society by its Royal Founder Charles the Second, and which has not been yet satisfactorily explained, relative to the respective gravities of fish, dead or alive. Nor if the late President had been a fishmonger, would the Society have been involved in the failure and disgrace of that experiment which the indignant poet has immortalized by the line

"Fleas are not lobsters—Damn their souls!"

But though I could not avoid touching upon these matters, it is as a citizen of London, and as the condescending friend of our most patriotic magistrates—our modern Whittingtons—that I presume to address your Royal Highness, and to solicit your favour to an essay towards the history of that great man, the honour of which cannot fail to be reflected on his successors; and in addition to this gracious patronage for myself, I am charged by others to solicit your Royal Highness, to be pleased to lend your name as President to a new literary and most useful association, held in Bearbinder Lane, at the back of the Mansion House, called "The Whittington Institution, for teaching Aldermen to read, write, cypher, and dance, on Mr. Lancaster's system."

In humble hope of your Royal Highness's most gracious condescension, I have the honour to remain, Sir,

Your Royal Highness's

Most devoted and obedient Servant,

Vicesimus Blinkinsop.

Back to Index Next