or two--do
you spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third
himself, wooden go to see the "Rivles"--ay, and clap hands too, and
laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery? Do you spose the critix wouldn't
applaud too? For shame, Barnet! what ninnis, what hartless raskles, you
must beleave them to be,--in the fust plase, to fancy that you are a
politticle genus; in the secknd, to let your politix interfear with
their notiums about littery merits!

"Put that nonsince out of your head," as Fox said to Bonypart. Wasn't
it that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's time,
who fansid that the French king wooden make pease unless Dennis
was delivered up to him? Upon my wud, I doan't think he carrid
his diddlusion much further than a serting honrabble barnet of my
aquentance.

And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another diddlusion;
a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y--sh. These plays
immortial? Ah, parrysampe, as the French say, this is too strong--the
small-beer of the "Sea Capting," or of any suxessor of the "Sea
Capting," to keep sweet for sentries and sentries! Barnet, Barnet! do
you know the natur of bear? Six weeks is not past, and here your last
casque is sour--the public won't even now drink it; and I lay a wager
that, betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and the end of the
year, the barl will be off the stox altogether, never, never to return.

I've notted down a few frazes here and there, which you will do well do
igsamin:--

NORMAN.

"The eternal Flora
Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind;
While circling round and upwards from the boughs,
Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds,
Melody, like a happy soul released,
Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes
Shakes sweetness down!"

NORMAN.

"And these the lips
Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss
Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left
By ANGELS when they touch the earth and vanish."

NORMAN.

"Hark! she has blessed her son! I bid ye witness,
Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air:
The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur
Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes
Aloud--aloft--to the Great Parent's ear,
The blessing of the mother on her child."

NORMAN.

"I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart
Mingled with mine--a deathless heritage,
Which I can tak