p in his poor pale cheeks,
Like ill-timed guests that had no proper dwelling there;
And, when they asked him his complaint, he laid
His hand upon his heart to shew the place,
Where Susan came to him a-nights, he said,
And prick'd him with a pin.--
And thereupon Sir Francis called to mind
The beggar-witch that stood by the gateway
And begged an alms.

STRANGER
But did the witch confess?

SERVANT
All this and more at her death.

STRANGER
I do not love to credit tales of magic.
Heaven's music, which is Order, seems unstrung,
And this brave world
(The mystery of God) unbeautified,
Disorder'd, marr'd, where such strange things are acted.

* * * * *

Mr. H----

A FARCE IN TWO ACTS

As it was performed at Drury Lane Theatre, _December, 1806_

"Mr. H----, thou wert DAMNED. Bright shone the morning on the play-bills
that announced thy appearance, and the streets were filled with the buzz
of persons asking one another if they would go to see Mr. H----, and
answering that they would certainly; but before night the gaiety, not of
the author, but of his friends and the town, was eclipsed, for thou wert
DAMNED! Hadst thou been anonymous, thou haply mightst have lived. But
thou didst come to an untimely end for thy tricks, and for want of a
better name to pass them off----."

--_Theatrical Examiner._

* * * * *

CHARACTERS

Mr. H---- _Mr. Elliston_.
BELVIL _Mr. Bartley_.
LANDLORD PRY _Mr. Wewitzer_.
MELESINDA _Miss Mellon_.
Maid to Melesinda. _Mrs. Harlowe_.
Gentlemen, Ladies, Waiters, Servants, &c.

SCENE.--_Bath_

* * * * *

PROLOGUE

_Spoken by Mr. Elliston_

If we have sinn'd in paring down a name,
All civil well-bred authors do the same.
Survey the columns of our daily writers--
You'll find that some Initials are great fighters.
How fierce the shock, how fatal is the jar,
When Ensign W. meets Lieutenant R.
With two stout seconds, just of their own gizard,
Cross Captain X. and rough old General Izzard!
Letter to Letter spreads the dire alarms,
Till half the Alphabet is up in arms.
Nor with less lustre have Initials shone,
To grace the gentler annals of Crim. Co