Eve. Of paintings! of paintings! Are you sure I m a judge of paintings?

Crim. Oh, sir, didn't you buy the great Correggio for £4,000?

Eve. True-I see. So £4,000 makes me an excellent judge of paintings. I'll call on you, Mr. Crimson. Good day. Mr. Grab-oh, you're the publisher who once refused me £5 for my poem? you are right: it was sad doggrel.

Grab. Doggrel! Mr. Evelyn, it was sublime! But times were bad then.

Eve. Very bad times with me.

Grab. But now, sir, if you give the preference, I'll push it, sir-I'll push it! I only publish for poets in high life, sir; and a gentleman of your station ought to be pushed !—£500 for the poem, sir!

Eve. £500 when I don't want it, where £5 once would have seemed a fortune.

"Now I am rich, what value in the lines!

How the wit brightens-how the sense refines !"

(Turns to the rest who surround him. Pat. (Showing drawing.) The Evelyn vis-à-vis ! Frantz. (Opening his bundle and with dignity.) Sare, I have brought de coat-the great Evelyn coat.

Eve. Oh, go to that is, go home !-Make me as celebrated for vis-à-vis, salvers, furniture, and coats, as I already am for painting, and shortly shall be for poetry. I resign myself to you-go! (Exeunt Patent, &c.

Enter STOUT.

Eve. Stout, you look heated!

Stout. I hear you have just bought the great Groginhole property.

Eve. It is true. Sharp says it's a bargain.

Stout. Well, my dear friend Hopkins, member for Groginhole, can't live another month-but the interests of mankind forbid regret for individuals! The patriot Popkins intends to start for the boro' the instant Hopkins is dead!—your interest

will secure his election !-nows your time!-put yourself forward in the march of enlightenment!-By all that is bigoted here comes Glossmore!

Enter GLOSSMORE; SHARP still at his desk.

Gloss. So lucky to find you at home! Hopkins of Groginhole, is not long for this world. Popkins, the brewer, is already canvassing underhand (so very ungentlemanlylike !) Keep your interest for young Lord Cipher-a valuable candidate. This is an awful moment-the CONSTITUTION depends on his return! Vote for Cipher !

Stout. Popkins is your man!

Eve. (Musingly.) Cipher and Popkins-Popkins and Cipher! Enlightenment and Popkins-Cipher and the constitution! I AM puzzled! Stout, I am not known at Groginhole. Stout. Your property's known there!

Eve. But purity of election-independence of votes

Stout. To be sure: Cipher bribes abominably. Frustrate his schemes-preserve the liberties of the borough-turn every man out of his house who votes against enlightenment and Popkins!

Eve. Right!-down with those who take the liberty to admire any liberty except our liberty! That is liberty!

Gloss. Cipher has a stake in the country-will have £50,000 a-year-Cipher will never give a vote without considering beforehand how people of £50,000 a-year will be affected by

the motion.

Eve. Right for as without law there would be no property, so to be the law for property is the only proper property of law!-That is law!

Stout. Popkins is all for economy-there's a sad waste of the public money-they give the Speaker £5,000 a-year, when I've a brother-in-law who takes the chair at the vestry, and who assures me confidentially he'd consent to be Speaker for half the money!

Gloss. Enough, Mr. Stout. Mr. Evelyn has too much at stake for a leveller.

Stout. And too much sense for a bigot.

Eve. Mr. Evelyn has no politics at all!-Did you ever play

at battledore?

Both. Battledore !

Eve. Battledore !—that is, a contest between two parties: both parties knock about something with singular skill— something is kept up-high-low-here-there-everywhere -nowhere! How grave are the players! how anxious the by-standers! how noisy the battledores! But when this something falls to the ground, only fancy-it's nothing but cork and feather! Go and play by yourselves,-I'm no hand at it!

Stout. (Aside.) Sad ignorance !-Aristocrat!

Gloss. Heartless principles !-Parvenu!

Stout. Then you don't go against us?-I'll bring Popkins to-morrow.

Gloss. Keep yourself free till I present Cipher to you. Stout. I must go to inquire after Hopkins. The return of Popkins will be an era in history.

(Exit.

Gloss. I must be off to the club-the eyes of the country are upon Grogenhole. If Cipher fail, the constitution is gone!

(Exit.

Eve. (At table.) Sharp, come here, (Sharp advances,) let me look at you! You are my agent, my lawyer, my man of business. I believe you honest; but what is honesty?— where does it exist ?-in what part of us?

Sharp. In the heart, I suppose.

Eve. Mr. Sharp, it exists in the pocket! Observe! I lay this piece of yellow earth on the table-I contemplate you both; the man there-the gold here- ! Now, there is many a man in yonder streets, honest as you are, who moves, thinks, feels, and reasons as well as we do; excellent in form-imperishable in soul; who, if his pockets were three days empty, would sell thought, reason, body, and soul too, for that little coin! Is that the fault of the man ?-no! it is the fault of mankind! God made man-Sir, behold what mankind have made a god! When I was poor I hated the world; now I am rich I despise it. Fools-knaves-hypocrites!

SATIRICAL ELEGY ON THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

His Grace! Impossible! What-dead!

Of old age, too, and in his bed!

And could that mighty warrior fall,

And so inglorious, after all?

Well, since he 's gone, no matter how,

The last loud trump must wake him now;

-SWIFT.

And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,
He'd wish to sleep a little longer.

And could he be indeed so old
As by the newspapers we 're told?
Threescore, I think, is pretty high;
'Twas time, in conscience, he should die !
This world he cumber'd long enough;
He burnt his candle to the snuff.
Behold! his funeral appears;

Nor widow's sighs, nor orphan's tears,
Wont at such times each heart to pierce,
Attend the progress of his hearse.
But what of that? his friends may say,
He had those honors in his day.
True to his profit and his pride,
He made them weep before he died.

Come hither, all ye empty things!
Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings!
Who float upon the tide of state,-
Come hither, and behold your fate!
Let pride be taught by this rebuke,
How very mean a thing 's a duke,
From all his ill-got honors flung,

Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung.

THE USEFUL YOUNG MAN.

WHAT! make myself useful!—indeed, ma'am, I can't—
'Tis not my vocation, and really I shan't.

What! come when I'm call'd, and do just as desir'd,
Then take myself off when no longer requir'd,
Run, jump, fetch and carry, live but to obey,
Then barely be thank'd, and kick'd out of the way!
That forms, I assure you, no part of my plan—
Indeed, ma'am, I am not a useful young man.

I know how they're used by the merciless fair—
'Tis Tom, pray, come here; or 'tis Tom, pray, go there;
Or Tom, my good creature, just pop on your hat,
And borrow me this thing, or purchase us that;
Or make yourself useful, and change us this book;
Or write us a passage from Moore's Lalla Rookh;
Or I know you'll oblige us to fasten this fan;-
Oh, dear! what a drudge is a useful young man

!

But endless his ills when he goes to a rout,-
La! Mary, my dear, there's Miss Cross sitting out;
Do find her a swain;-then they look the beaux o'er,
And the useful young man's trotted up to the bore;
Or, while snuffing the candles, the good-natured pet
Is dragged from the tea-room to make up a set,.
Where turban'd old ladies will dance if they can,
While they snap, sneer, and snarl, at the useful young man.

When the party breaks up and the dancing is done,
'Midst the last dying flashes of folly and fun,

Should some bright-eyed girl have to go home alone,
By some rude, selfish fellow she's seized, ten to one:
While the useful young man shivers off through the snow,
With some ugly old maid that 's a long way to go;

For such are the ladies that always trepan

That poor helpless victim, the useful young man !