For them be it ever at will to command; But let each be thy friend who at all is deserving, And give him thy heart with a shake of the hand.

MOSES AND RACHAEL;

OR, WHO SHALL SIT IN THE CORNER. Air-" Over the Water to Charley."—(Beuler.) WHEN I was a poy, and I did go to school, And I came home at night a good learner, My moder vas kind, and e'er made it a rule To shave me de fire-shide varm corner. And vhen I grew pig I did marry a vife, And vork'd to buy clothes to adorn her, But vhen day's vork vas done 'tvas de shoy of mine life

At night to sit down in de corner.

And sing tol de rol, &c. Shelling rhuparps and hardvare, I travell'd apout, Of monish I vas a good earner,

And vhen I come home dhen my pipe I pull'd out,
And smok'd vhilst I shat in de corner.

But now dhat my vife's in de family vay,
She's so stupporn de tevil can't turn her,
She's longing for ev'ry ting nice all de day,
And at night she vill sit in my corner.

And sing tol de rol, &c.

She stuck to de stool close, vhich made me enraged,
I vish'd dat de Prophet vould purn her;
And a long var of vords petween us vas vaged,
Apout vhich should sit down in de corner.
Now, Rachael, said I, on de faith of my vord,
Dhis quarrel shall make you forlorner,
I've told you two times, now dere is de third,
I'm tamm'd if you sit in de corner.
And sing tol de rol, &c.
Dhen I, in a rage, for she laugh'd in my teeth,
Sheized hold of de stool which had porne her,
I pull'd and I tugg'd 'till it vas from peneath
My vife, who fell squat in de corner.

Dere, madam, shaid Í, I have now got your sheat;
But she told me it didn't concern her;

She still had one stool, and she vould, in my teet, Continue to sit in de corner.

And sing tol de rol, &c.

Soon from dhese high vords did ve poth come to plows,

I fought hard, in future to varn her
Dhat I vould pe master, and under my nose
She never should sit in de corner.

Dhen her moder came up, and my vife did pegin
To tell her how now I did spurn her;
"Dhere, moder, you know vhat a state I am in,
Yet he von't let me sit in de corner.

And sing tol de rol, &c.

Her moder shaid-vhat! vould you ill-treat my girl?

Now she's pig vould you make her a mourner? Vhat! ill-treat my daughters! now I shay she shall Sit in your sight in de corner.

And dere comes your fader to shay de shame ting; Vhat, Isaacs, de turner and horner,

Yet he von't let her sit in de corner.

And sing tol de rol, &c. My fader py marriage had long pecome meek, And he said I did wrong thus to scorn her, For de shild might pe mark'd vith a stool on de sheek

If my vife didn't sit in de corner.

O'erruled py his vords, I gave up to my spouse,
And soon of dhis truth vas a learner-
Dhat vives vhen dey like vill sit all o'er de house
If you vonce let 'em sit in de corner.
And sing tol de rol, &c.

MY TEMPER IS CHEERFUL AND MELLOW.
FOR a song I'm in excellent strain,
My spirits are light as a feather,

I have got my gay heart back again
That late was in love's heavy tether;
No longer I'll sigh in despair,

No longer a sad silly fellow,

You may see, though I have had a cure,
Yet my temper is cheerful and mellow.
For Chloe I died on the rack,

While Phillis for me was despairing,
Yet love ever runs in this track,

In spite of our cursing and caring;
Let fools, then, a destiny swear,

I leave them to bluster and bellow,
You may see, though I have had a care,
Yet my temper is cheerful and mellow.
Perhaps you might wish me to show

How a heart that is lost can recover;
By Jove, if he dangles, I know

No maxim to save a true lover.
He must gallop from jealous despair,
Nor wait to be cursed like Othello,
And he'll find, though he has had a care,
He'll soon become cheerful and mellow.

MY LODGING IS ON THE COLD GROUND. (Gay.)

MY lodging is on the cold ground
And very hard is my fare,
But that that troubles me most
Is the unkindness of my dear.
Yet still I cry oh turn, love!

And 1 prithee, love, turn to me;
For thou art the man that I long for,
And, alack, what remedy!

I'll crown thee with a garland of straw, then,
And I'll marry thee with a rush ring;
My frozen hopes shall thaw, then,

And merrily we will sing.

Oh turn to me, my dear love!

And I prithee, love, turn to me;
For thou art the man that alone cans't
Procure my liberty.

But if thou wilt harden thy heart still,
And be deaf to my pitiful moan,
Then I must endure the smart still
And tumble in straw all alone.
Yet still I cry, oh turn, love!

And I prithee, love, turn to me;
For thou art the man that alone art
The cause of my misery.

JUST LIKE LOVE.
(Lord Strangford.)

JUST like love is yonder rose,
Heavenly fragrance round it throws.

What?-Musn't call him Shave-an-egg, it's a nickname.-Well, you told me, it is all your fault: a -Mr.-a-they tell me you intend giving your daughter £10,000.-Well, sir, what then?-I'll save you a thousand, and take her with nine.— Who's that?-Oh, that is Twizzle, the punster.— I hope you will not let us have any of your puns yet; now, I shall make one rule with you, no puns till the cloth is removed.-Who's that?-Mr. Omnium, the stock-broker.-They tell me he waddled last week.-Mr. Omnium, allow me to help you to a little duck.-That's personal, I declare.-Who's that? That's Sir Simon Daub, the amateur artist. -How did he come?-In his own coach and four horses, afraid he should not be here in time.-I don't wonder at it, if his horses don't draw better than himself.-Who is that ?-That's Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman, they are just married.-Happy couple, fine woman!-Charming!-What do you think of him?—I never saw such a goose in my life.-Miss Crotchet, will you favour us with a ditty ?----After dinner, sir.-What are those black fellows?-Oh, that's the band.-Now do, Miss Crotchet, and perhaps the band will accompany you.-O, then that will be a band-ditty, you know.

Thus, hob and nobbing, tea and wine,
With company combining;

In gay delight, from morn till night,
While breakfasting or dining.

Some tables are drawn out in front of the lawn,
To gain a good view of the river;

But gentlemen cry, very cold for July;
While the ladies so charmingly shiver.
Pray, bring me my shawl

Cries old Lady Squall,

While walking the terra

with her niece:

Though the cast wind now chills,
By and by the quadrilles

Will make you as hot as a furnace. SPOKEN.] Will you allow me to help you?-You are very polite.-What part?-Any part; I am not part-icular.-Charming weather! quite a spring day!-Spring! I should think it was summer by the number of swallows that are present.-Miss Guffin, will you read a bit out of your album? I see you are not eating.-It's not an album, sir; it's a cookery-book.-What makes you carry a cookery-book?-How very odd !-Most extraordinary woman I ever heard of!- Why, I'm very particular in what I eat, so I always look how things are dressed. I'm sure she's very badly dressed herself, if you come to that.-Very droll things in a cookery-book, Miss Guffin; will you allow me to look at your cookery-book, the phraseology is so droll, a-first split your head in two (reading).— Waiter, that's a very good joke for once, but the next time you come round with a tureen of soup, I'd thank you not to throw it down my back.-How is poor dear Lady Neverwed?-Dressed all to rags; never saw Who is the lady opposite? I wish to take some wine with her. That's the widow Wedlove; she has been married three times.-Indeed!-Yes; I wonder how they do contrive to get so many husbands; for my part, I can't get one; I can't think how they do it.-First catch your fish (reading).-How very droll that came in.-Shall I trouble you, sir. The trouble's a pleasure, ma'am. -The trouble's a pleasure-how elegant, how vastly new! I would have given the world to have said that the trouble's a pleasure.-Mr. Puddefat, how do you find yourself?-Oh, very low, quite depressed in spirits; I wish you could find me a remedy.-(Reading.) Put head in scalding hot water, cut your liver into small slices, and put a lemon in your mouth.-Look at that Shave-an-egg, did you ever see any person eat so much ?-Never;

your

how much do you think he will drink ?—Any given quantity.

Thus hobbing, nobbing, tea, and wine,
With company combining;
From morn till night with gay delight,
Whether breakfasting or dining.

The dejeune done, away the folks run,
To get back to London by seven;
And mourn their hard lot in not knowing what
To do with themselves till eleven.
Some carelessly drop in Colnaghi's shop,
Like so many hard-hearted sinners;
While others retreat to the British to eat,
In one day, a couple of dinners.

SPOKEN.] Waiter, two glasses of wine, white, one of which shall be port.-How are the 3 per cents? Very tough.-Miss Brisket, how do you do? is mamma here?-No, sir, she is at home, nursing a cold.-Indeed! why not put it out to nurse? I always do.-Does Miss Guffin rouge? -I'll ask her.-No! no!-Yes, bless you! I can say any thing to her: Miss Guffin, excuse,me, do you rouge?-How particularly rude!-I beg your pardon, how do you contrive to look so lovely?— Singe all the hair off your head, and lay your eyes upon a plate.-(Reading.)-How does the alderman get on in the house?-A little less tongue and more brains if you please.-There's old Prolix.-He's very old, an't he?-Yes, quite in his anecdotage.-How do, Horner? how's your wife? -How's vours, if you go to that?-Expect any one by the steamer?-Yes, sir.-Son, sir?-No, sir. -Daughter, sir?-No, sir.-Who then, sir?— Why, my wife, if you must know; very inquisitive.

-Who the devil is he?-Pray, sir, do I know you? -You have the advantage of me, sir.-Have I? then I'll keep it.-Poor Dismal! they tell me he is dead, poor fellow! he was to have dined here today; what was his complaint--A deviled gizzard. (Reading.)-Pray, sir, has he left any hair?Hair! no, ma'am, he died bald.-I beg pardon, sir, that is not what I mean; did he leave much money?-No, ma'am, he died insolvent.-No. sir, I beg pardon, he died in Middlesex, to my certain knowledge.-There's one comfort, he had the very best of advice, every thing that could be done, was done.-I beg your pardon, sir, the pork-griskin wasn't half done.

Thus hobbing, nobbing, &c.

........

CRIED ECHO, FAR AWAY. (Byron.)

WITHIN a bower, a lady gay

Sat warbling to her lute; While, as if listening to her lay, The airy tribe was mute:

My love was true; yet, well a day,
From me my love is far away."
Cried Echo, "far away."

"Now hie thee here, my handsome page,
Trip nimbly as the fawn;
For lo! I see a pilgrim sage

Come tottering o'er the lawn. And here invite his welcome stay, My love may wander far away. Cried Echo,

"far away." "Here, pilgrim, rest awhile your woe." He blessed her charity,

Then off his weeds essayed to throw;
Her true love, it was he.
And now that lady chang'd her lay,
And sung,
"be sorrow far away."
Cried Echo," far away."

THE GRAND BALLET.

(Dibdin.)

ONE, two, three, ha,

Ta da dal lal la,

La figure garde bien ma belle,
Take a time to look me,

Come, one, two, three,
Ha-la-extremely well.

SPOKEN.] Easy mignonne-take a time-look a me, don hurry-then vas it is diss-enteechats-six -ha!

Now, my lofe, dee minuet, if you please.
Taw law, don't be lazy,

La prends bien de place,

Ti da, les bras easy,

Oh, che de grace!

La, be no so heavy,

Dance comme vous etes et svimming,

Le tete bien leve,

Plus charmante de women.

Taw law, don't be lazy,

Keep the body straight, taw law, Daw law de lu lu, easy,

Pose les bras,

Ah. ma chere, vous etes charmante. SPOKEN.] I could kiss you for diss. Helesburh Parisot, all dese people are notting to you. Come, now, de country dance. Where is all de popals. -John, Dick, Bob, Molly, Billy, every body come, come, place a place, taw a dance.

Come, listen to the fiddle,

Numps strike hands with Doll;
Now lead up the middle,
And foot it over to Poll.

Lol de diddle diddle, &c.

John, you stupid booby,

Now mind strike de hey;
Ah! you clumsy looby,

Why don't you foot it away.

Very well-right and left-set out-set in.
Come, quick, don't so stump it,

Now take hands around,
Foot it, kick it, and stump it,
And lightly trip de ground.

FORGET THEE!

(Ryan.)

FORGET thee! in the banquet halls,
Go, ask my fellow men,

Or ask the tear that secret falls,
If I forget thee then?

The midnight hours, with song and wine,
I ever shared with thee;

The midnight hours, they still are thine,
And fatal memory.

Forget thee! in the mirthful dance,

There steals some eye's bright ray

Like thine, that makes me, with its glance,
Turn swift in tears away.

Go, ask my minstrels, when they breathe
The verse-the poet's pen;

Which each Parnassian sweet hath wreathed,
If I forget thee then?

Forget thee! oh, there is but one

Could from

my memory chase

Each sweet charm I have gazed upon,
Each softly winning grace.

To be that one's my first-first vow
I pledg'd with infant breath,

And he comes to demand me now,
Thy rival, love, is-death.

Forget thee! when my funeral urn
Thy tearful gaze shall meet,
And censers of aroma burn,
Exhaling at my feet:

When winds and storms careering sweep
Unheeded o'er my breast;

And cypress waves, then turn and weep, And own my love's at rest.

HONEY AND MUSTARD.
SIR Jerry Go-nimble was lame of a leg,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee;
And Lady Go-nimble had barely one peg,

For a very old lady was she.

Sir Jerry, when married, was but twenty-two, My lady four-score, when, Sir J. came to woo; As ugly as Poles, but as rich as a Jew.

SPOKEN.] How she always charm'd me, when she used to sing

Hey diddle, ho diddle, hey diddle dee,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee.

At the wedding my lady was ask'd for a song,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee;

Says she to oblige I'll not hesitate long,

Though I own I'm not quite in the key. Then she made a fine mug, 'twixt a squint and a grin,

And screw'd up her snuff-colour'd lips to begin,
Like two bellows-handles she mov'd nose and chin.
SPOKEN.] When she sung-

SINGS "What's life without passion,
Sweet passion of love;"

Hey diddle, ho diddle, &c. This pair of true lovers they liv'd upon love, Hey diddle, ho diddle dee;

While the honey-moon lasted, a week and above,
And then 'twas all mustard for she.
For wicked Sir Jerry was fond of tit-bits,
And my lady fell into hysterical fits,
Then, for jealousy, drank herself out of her wits.

SPOKEN.] Then she walked about like mad Bess, with a wisp of straw in one hand, and a comfortbottle in the other

SINGS" He prov'd false and I undone,"
Hey diddle, ho diddle, &c.

At last by this sad hydropogy she died,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee;

And her grim ghost it came to Sir Jerry's bed-side, Saying, List, oh! list, for I'm come for thee." Sir Jerry he hid himself under the clothes,

But the ghost out of bed pulled him soon by the

toes,

SPOKEN.] Doing a good action is vat I always tinks the pest pargain vat I makes; a poor sarvent girl had lost a gold proach belonging to her mistress, and she vas crying very much for fear of losing her place; vel, said I, I don't like to see the pretty girls cry, have I ever a von in ma pox, ma dear, like it! Yes, sir, there is one, the very model of it; but I have got but two shillings with me. Vel, ma dear, you shan't lose your place; give ma the two shillings, and take de proach: she went away so merry and so happy, vasn't it a good pargin? for it made ma heart so merry, and I began to sing,

Fal der ral, der rida, &c.

Customers come to view ma show, here's rings if you'll get married,

Vatches I varrint dem to go, venever they are

carried!

You tink it quite provoking and that I means to trick, I only means vile joking, to sell no vatch pon tick.

?

SPOKEN.] I trust nobody, for vi? because nobody vil trust me, and vat ish the reason? because I am a Jew; vel, the Jew ish a man so vell as another. A man says to me the other day, in de street, Isaacs, you are a rogue. For vi am I a rogue Why you sold me a razor that wouldn't shave. Vel, ma dear, you pought mid your eyes open, vou gave but de prish of de handale, and I made you a present of de blade into de pargain; he vent away so savage; he vasint like me, directly I turned the corner, I made de pest of my way to the five lamps, at Aldgate, and there I began to sing, Fal der ral, der rida, &c.

THE SHIPWRECKED TAR.
(Dibdin.)

ESCAPED with life in tatters,
Behold me, safe ashore;
Such trifles little matters,

I'll soon get togs galore:
For Poll swore, when we parted,
No chance her faith should jar,
And Poll's too tender-hearted

To slight a shipwrecked tar.
To Poll his course straight steering,
He hastens on apace;

Poor Jack can't get a hearing,
She never saw his face!
From Meg, Doll, Sue, and Kitty,
Relief is just as far,

Not one has the least pity

For a poor shipwrecked tar.

This whom he thought love's needle, Now his sad misery mocks;

That wants to call the beadle,

To set him in the stocks!
Cried Jack, this is hard dealing,
The elements at war
Than this had kinder feeling,

They spar'd a shipwrecked tar,
But all their taunts and fetches
A judgement are on me ;
I, for those hardened wretches,
Dear Nancy, slighted thee:
But, see, poor Tray assails me,
His mistress is not far;
He wags his tail and hails me,

Though a poor shipwrecked tar. 'Twas faithful love that brought him, Oh, lesson for mankind!

Tis one, cried she, I taught him,
For on my constant mind