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Seen dispersedly in various parts of the trod on my corn, and lamed me for the evening!

gardens.

Master Peter. Oh my! what a sweet place! Why, the lamps are thicker than the pears in our garden, at Walworth: what a load of oil they must burn!

Miss Arabella. Mamma, is that the lady mayoress, with the ostridge feathers, and the pink satin gown?

Mrs. Greenfat. No, my love; that's Miss Biddy Wilkins, of Gutter-lane! (To a waiter.) You rude fellow, you've trod on my dress, and your nasty foot has torn off one of my flounces.

Miss Theodosia. John, (to Mr. Eelskin,) how very pretty that hilluminated walk looks. Dear me! do you see the fountain? How vastly reviving this hot weather,

isn't it?

Mr. Eelskin. Ah, my beloved Theodosia! how should I notice the beauties of the scene in your company-when your eyes are brighter than the lamps, and your voice is sweeter than the music? In vain the fiddlers fiddle, and the singers sing, I can hear nothing-listen to nothing-but my adorable Theodosia !

Master Humphrey. La, papa, what's that funny round place, with flags on the top, and ballad women and men with cocked hats inside?

Mr. Greenfat. That's the Hawkestraw. Mrs. Greenfat. Hush, my dear; it's vulgar to talk loud. Dosee, my love, don't hang so on Mr. John's arm, you'll quite fatigue him. That's Miss Tunstall-Miss Tunstall's going to sing. Now, my pretty Peter, don't talk so fast.

Miss Arabella. Does that lady sing in French, mamma?

Mrs. Greenfat. No, child, it's a senthemental air, and they never have no meaning?

Miss Theodosia. That's the overthure to Friedshots; Eelskin, do you like it?

Mr. Eelskin. On your piano I should. But shall I take you out of this glare of light? Would you choose a ramble in the dark walk, and a peep at the puppet-showcosmoramas?

Mr. Greenfat. I hates this squalling. (Bell rings.) What's that for?

Mr. Eelskin. That's for the fant-toesheeni, and the balancing man.

Mr. Greenfat. Well then, let's go and .ook at Mr. Fant-toc-sheeni.

Mrs. Greenfat. Oh, goodness, how I'm squeedged. Pray don't push so, sir-I'm astonished at your rudeness, mam! You've

Mr. Greenfat. Sir, how dare you suffer your wife to tread on my wife's toes? Master Peter. My stars, sister, he's got a bagginette on his nose!

Mrs. Greenfut. Mr. John, will you put little Humphy on your shoulder, and show him the fant-oh-see-ne?

Master Humphrey. I can see now, mamma; there's Punch and Judy, mamma! Oh, my! how well they do dance! Mr. Greenfat. I can see this in the streets for nothing.

Mrs. Greenfat. Yes, Mr. Greenfat, but not in such good company!

Mr. Eelskin. This, my beautiful Theodosia, is the musical temple; it's very elegant-only it never plays. Them paintings on the walls were painted by Mungo Parke and Hingo Jones; the archatechture of this room is considered very fine!

Master Peter. Oh, I'm so hot. (Bell rings.)

Mr. Eelskin. That's for the hyder-hawlics. We'd better go into the gallery, and then the ladies won't be in the crowd.

Mr. Greenfat. Come along then; we want to go into the gallery. A shilling a-piece, indeed! I wonder at your impu dence! Why, we paid three and sixpence a head at the door.

Mr. Eelskin. Admission to the gallery is hextra.

Mr. Greenfat. Downright robbery !—I won't pay a farthing more.

Miss Arabella. See, mamma, water and fire at once!-how droll!

Mrs. Greenfat. Pray be kind enough to take off your hat, sir; my little boy can't see a bit. Humphy, my dear, hold fast by the railing, and then you won't lose your place. Oh, Mr. John, how very close and sultry it is!

Mr. Greenfat. What outlandish hussey's that, eh, John?

sir.

Mr. Eelskin. That's the female juggler,

Miss Theodosia. Are those real knives, do you think, John?

Mr. Eelskin. Oh, no doubt of it; only the edges are blunt to prevent mischief. Who's this wild-looking man? Oh, this is the male juggler: and now we shall have a duet of juggling!

Mrs. Greenfat. Can you see, Peter?Bella, my love, can you see? Mr. John, do you take care of Dosee? Well, I purtest I never saw any thing half so wonder ful: did you, Mr. Greenfat!

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Miss Arabella. Why do all the dancers wear plaids, mamma?

Mrs. Greenfat. Because it's a cool dress, dear.

Mr. Greenfat. Well, if a girl of mine whisked her petticoats about in that manner, I'd have her horsewhipped.

Mr. Eelskin. Now we'll take a stroll till the concert begins again. This is the marine cave-very natural to look at, Miss, but nothing but paint and canvass, I assure you. This is the rewolving evening war for the present; after the fire-works, it still change into his majesty, King George. Yonder's the hermit and his cat.

Master Peter. Mamma, Joes that old man always sit there?

Mrs. Greenfat. I'm sure I don't know, child; does he, Mr. Eelskin?

Mr. Greenfat. Nonsense-it's all gammon!

Mr. Eelskin. This way, my angel; the concert has recommenced.

Miss Theodosia. Oh, that's Charles Taylor; I likes his singing; he's such a merry fellow: do hancore him, John.

Mrs. Greenfat. Dosee, my dear, you're too bold; it was a very impurent song: I declare I'm quite ashamed of you!

Mr. Greenfat. Never mince matters; always speak your mind, girl.

Mr. Eelskin. The fire-works come next. Suppose we get nearer the Moorish tower, and look for good places, as Mr. G. dislikes paying for the gallery. Now you'll not be afeard; there'll not be the least danger, depend.

Mrs. Greenfat. Is there much smoke, Mr. John?-Do they fire many cannons? -I hates cannons-and smoke makes me cough. (Bell rings.) Run, run, my dears— Humphy, Peter, Bella, run! Mr. Greenfat, run, or we shall be too late! Eelskin and Dosee are a mile afore us! What's that red light? Oh, we shall all be burnt! What noise is that?-Oh, it's the bomb in the Park !-We shall all be burnt !

Mr. Greenfat. Nonsense, woman, don't frighten the children!

Miss Theodosia. Now you're sure the

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Mr. Eelskin. Quite sure, my charmer: I have stood here repeatedly, and never had a hair of my head hurt. See, Blackmore is on the rope; there he goes up-up-up! -Isn't it pretty, Miss?

Miss Theodosia. Oh, delightful!-Does he never break his neck?

Mr. Eelskin. Never-it's insured! Now he descends. How they shoot the maroons at him! Don't be afeard, lovee, they sha'n't hurt you. See, Miss, how gracefully he bows to you. Isn't it terrific!

Miss Theodosia. Is this all?-I thought it would last for an hour, at least. John, I'm so hungry; I hope papa means to have supper?

Master Peter. Mamma, I'm so hungry. Master Humphrey. Papa, I'm so dry. Miss Arabella. Mamma, I want somewhat to eat.

Mrs. Greenfat. Greenfat, my dear, we must have some refreshments.

Mr. Greenfat. Refreshments! where will you get them? All the boxes are full. -Oh, here's one. Waiter! what, the devil, call this a dish of beef?-It don't weigh three ounces! Bring half a gallon of stout, and plenty of bread. Can't we have some

water for the children?

Mr. Eelskin. Shouldn't we have a little wine, sir?-it's more genteeler.

Mr. Greenfat. Wine, Eelskin, wine !— Bad sherry at six shillings a bottle!— Couldn't reconcile it to my conscience -We'll stick to the stout.

Mrs. Greenfat. Eat, my loves.-Some more bread for Bella.-There's a bit of fat for you, Peter.-Humphy, you shall have my crust.-Pass the stout to Dosee, Mr. John.-Don't drink it all, my dear!

Mr. Greenfat. Past two o'clock !-Shameful!-Waiter, bring the bill. Twelve shillings and eightpence - abominable! Charge a shilling a pot for stout-monstrous! Well, no matter; we'll walk home. Come along.

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TO MY TEA-KETTLE.

For the Table Book.

1.

For many a verse inspired by tea, (A never-failing muse to me)

MY KETTLE, let this tribute flow,

Thy charms to blazon,

And tell thy modest worth, although
Thy face be brazen.

2.

Let others boast the madd'ning bowl,
That raises but to sink the soul,

Thou art the Bacchus that alone
I wish to follow :

From thee I tipple Helicon,
My best Apollo !

3.

'Tis night-my children sleep-no noise
Is heard, except thy cheerful voice;

For when the wind would gain mine ear,
Thou sing'st the faster-

As if thou wert resolv'd to cheer
Thy lonely master.

4.

And so thou dost: those brazen lungs
Vent no deceit, like human tongues :

That honest breath was never known
To turn informer:

And for thy feelings-all must own
That none are warmer.
5.

But late, another eye and ear
Would mark thy form, thy music hear:
Alas! how soon our pleasures fly,
Returning never!

That ear is deaf-that friendly eye
Is clos'd for ever!

6.

Be thou then, now, my friend, my guide,
And humming wisdom by my side,

Teach me so patiently to bear
Hot-water troubles,

That they may end, like thine, in air,
And turn to bubbles.

7.

Let me support misfortune's fire
Unhurt; and, when I fume with ire,
Whatever friend my passion sees,
And near me lingers,

Let him still handle me with ease,
Nor burn his fingers.

8.

O! may my memory, like thy front,
When I am cold, endure the brunt
Of vitriol envy's keen assaults,
And shine the brighter,

And ev'ry rub-that makes my faults
Appear the lighter.

SAM SAM'S SON.

TO MY TEA-POT.

For the Table Book.

1.

MY TEA-FOT! While thy lips pour forth
For me a stream of matchless worth,

I'll pour forth my rhymes for thee:
Don Juan's verse is gross, they say ;
But I will pen a grocer lay,

Commencing-" Amo tea."

2.

Yes-let Anacreon's votary sip
His flowing bowl with feverish lip,
And breathe abominations;

Some day he'll be bowl'd out for it-
He's brewing mischief, while I sit
And brew my Tea-pot-ations.

3.

After fatigue, how dear to me
The maid who suits me to a T,

And makes the water bubble.
From her red hand when I receive
The evergreen, I seem to give
At T. L. no trouble.

4.

I scorn the hop, disdain the malt,
I hate solutions sweet and salt,
Injurious I vote 'em ;
For tea my faithful palate yearns;
Thus-though my fancy never turns,
It always is tea-totum!

5.

Yet some assure me whilst I sip,
That thou hast stain'd thy silver lip
With sad adulterations-
Slow poison drawn from leaves of sloe,
That quickly cause the quick to go,
And join their dead relations.

6.
Aunt Malaprop now drinks noyeau
Instead of Tea, and well I know

That she prefers it greatly:
She says, "Alas! I give up Tea,
There's been so much adultery
Among the grocers lately!"
7.

She warns me of Tea-dealers' tricks-
Those double-dealing men, who mix
Unwholesome drugs with some Tea

'Tis bad to sip-and yet to give
Up sipping's worse; we cannot live
"Nec sine Tea, nec cum Tea."
8.

Yet still, tenacious of my Tea,

I think the grocers send it me

Quite pure, ('tis what they call so.)

Heedless of warnings, still I get "Tea ven:ente die, et

Tea decedente," also.

SAM SAM'S SON.

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Stratford upon Avon Church.

From a sepia drawing, obligingly communicated by J.S.J., the reader is presented with this view of a church, "hallowed by being the sepulchral enclosure of the remains of the immortal Shakspeare." It exemplifies the two distinct styles, the early pointed and that of the fourteenth century. The tower is of the first construction; the windows of the transepts possess a preeminent and profuse display of the mullions and tracery characteristic of the latter period.*

Mr. Carter, in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1816. VUL. I.-15

This structure is spacious and handsome, and was formerly collegiate, and dedicated to the Holy Trinity. A row of limes trained so as to form an arched avenue form an approach to the great door. A representation of a portion of this plea entrance is in an engraving of the church in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1807.

Another opportunity will occur for rela ting particulars respecting the venerable edifice, and the illustrious bard, whose birth and burial at Stratford upon Avon confer on the town imperishable fame.

Garrick Plays.

No. XII.

[From the "Brazen Age," an Historical Play, by Thomas Heywood, 1613.]

Venus courts Adonis.

Venus. Why doth Adonis fy the Queen of Love,
And shun this ivory girdle of my arms?
To be thus scarf'd the dreadful God of War
Would give me conquer'd kingdoms. For a kiss,
But half like this, I could command the Sun
Rise 'fore his hour, to bed before his time;
And, being love-sick, change his golden beams,
And make his face pale as his sister Moon.
Look on me, Adon, with a stedfast eye,
That in these chrystal glasses I may see

My beauty that charms Gods, makes Men amazed
And stown'd with wonder. Doth this roseat pillow
Offend my Love?

With my white fingers will I clap thy cheek;
Whisper a thousand pleasures in thy ear.

Adonis. Madam, you are not modest. I affect
The unseen beauty that adorns the mind:
This looseness makes you foul in Adon's eye.
If you will tempt me, let me in your face
Read blusfulness and fear; a modest fear

Would make your cheek seem much more beautiful.
Venus.wert thou made of stone,

I have heat to melt thee; I am Queen of Love.
There is no practive art of dalliance

Of which I am not mistress, and can uɛe.

I have kisses that can murder unkind words,
And strangle hatred that the gall sends forth;
Touches to raise thee, were thy spirits half dead;
Words that can pour affection down thy ears.
Love me! thou can'st not chuse; thou shalt not chuse.
Adonis. Madam, you woo not well. Men covet not
These proffer'd pleasures, but love sweets denied.
These prostituted pleasures surfeit still;
Where's fear, or doubt, men sue with best good will.
Venus. Thou canst instruct the Queen of Love in
love.

Thou shalt not, Adon, take me by the hand;
Yet, if thou needs will force me, take my palm
I'll frown on him: alas! my brow's so smooth,
It will not bear a wrinkle.-Hie thee hence
Unto the chace, and leave me; but not yet:
I'll sleep this night upon Endymion's bank,
On which the Swain was courted by the Moon.
Dare not to come; thou art in our disgrace:
Yet, if thou come, I can afford thee place!

Phoebus jeers Vulcan.

V'ul. Good morrow, Phoebus; what's the news abroad?

For thou see'st all things in the world are done,
Men act by day-light, or the sight of sun.

Phab. Sometime I cast my eye upon the sea,
To see the tumbling seal or porpoise play.
There see I merchants trading, and their sails
Big-bellied with the wind; sea fights sometimes
Rise with their smoke thick clouds to dark my beams.
Sometimes I fix my face upon the earth,

With my warm fervour to give metals, trees,
Herbs, plants and flowers, life. Here in gardens walk
Loose Ladies with their Lovers arm in arm.
Yonder the laboring Plowman drives his team.
Further I may behold main battles pitcht;
And whom I favour most (by the wind's help)
I can assist with my transparent rays.

Here spy I cattle feeding; forests there

Stored with wild beasts; here shepherds with their lasses,

Piping beneath the trees while their flocks graze.

In cities I see trading, walking, bargaining,
Buying and selling, goodness, badness, all things-
And shine alike on all.

Vel. Thrice happy Phœbus,

That, whilst poor Vulcan is confin'd to Lemnos,
Hast every day these pleasures. What news else?
Phab. No Emperor walks forth, but I see his state;
Nor sports, but I his pastimes can behold.

I see all coronations, funerals,

Marts, fairs, assemblies, pageants, sights and shows.
No hunting, but I better see the chace
Than they that rouse the game. What see I not?
There's not a window, but my beams break in;
No chink or cranny, but my rays pierce through;
And there I see, O Vulcan, wondrous things:
Things that thyself, nor any God besides,
Would give belief to.

And, shall I tell thee, Vulcan, 'tother day
What I beheld?-I saw the great God Mars—

Vul. God Mars

Phob. As I was peeping through a cranny, a-bedVul. Abed! with whom?-some pretty Wench, I

warrant.

Phab. She was a pretty Wench.

Vul. Tell me, good Phoebus,

That, when I meet him, I may flout God Mars;
Tell me, but tell me truly, on thy life.

Phab. Not to dissemble, Vulcan, 'twas thy Wife!

The Peers of Greece go in quest of Hercules, and find him in woman's weeds, spinning with Omphale.

Jason. Our business was to Theban Hercules. 'Twas told us, he remain'd with Omphale, The Theban Queen.

Telamon, Speak, which is Omphale? or which Alcides?

Pollur. Lady, our purpose was to Hercules; Shew us the man.

Omphale. Behold him here.

Atreus. Where?

Omphale. There, at his task.

Jason. Alas, this Hercules!.

This is some base effeminate Groom, not he

That with his puissance frighted all the earth.
Hercules. Hath Jason, Nestor, Castor, Telamon,
Atreus, Pollux, all forgot their friend?
We are the man.

Jason. Woman, we know thee not:
We came to seek the Jove born Hercules,
That in his cradle strangled Juno's snakes,
And triumph'd in the brave Olympic games.
He that the Cleonean lion slew,

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