formation there, though "difficult,
not impoffible.
from my ful

But I am wintering
ject; difcuffions of this kind require a
volume; and hall therefore conclude
with obferving, that the whole plan of
an excellent education is reduced to this,
firit to fix in the minds of young men
fuch ideas, as have a relation to their
ftate and fortune; and, fecondly, to
use the most certain incans of inflaming
them with the love of glory, and the
public esteem.

In confequence of this permiffion, which his majefty has graciously given me, I refign to general Sporcken the command of the army, which I fhall leave to-morrow ow the 24th of December, I am the better fatisfied, as his majesty has condefcended to repeat to me his approbation of my conduct and I have the most grateful fenfe of the favours with which you honoured me during the time that I commanded the army. I hall never forget, with how great and happy fuccefs Ifought at the head of the brave troops that compofed the army, for liberty, and for their country and mine. This I fhall always remember,

and it will make me think continually on the obligations. I owe to the generals, and officers in particular, who, by affitting me with their experience and good advice, enabled me to serve my country, and to discharge, at the same time, the truft with which I was honoured by the king. I therefore defire, general, that you will return them my fincere thanks, and that you will also thank, in my name, the whole army, for the obedience, they paid to me whilft I had the honour to command them. FERDINAND.

Neuhaus,

Dec. 23,1762. ) Duke of Brunswic."

The Comic Paraphrafe upon Shakespear's Seven Ages; Spoke by Mr. Shuter at his Benefit in Covent Garden, March 21, 1763.

T

Wrote by G. A. STEVENS.

Al the World's a Stage.

4

HUS Shakespear has faid, and what can we fay ?
But that life is a droll, 'twixt a farce and a play.
Where fome live extempore, others by rule,

and fome play the fool. by the wife 'tis confeft, who plays the fool best.

-

Some fly ones act knaves parts,
The fool! and what then?
That man lives the happiest,
Folly waits on our wishes, our fenfes the charms
From-

The infant puling and muling in the nurses arms.
While round her neck, the tender bantling clings,
She dandles the baby, and baby-like fings.

Hold ng up the flap of his coat, he fung to the tune of, O my Kitten.

. Here is papa's nown features, and here is a Jack-a-dandy,

Give us a blow to beat 'um, and who'll have fome fugar-candy.
He'll be a man 'fore his mother, and shoo pig, fhoo, fhoo, fhoo,
Hot diddle-dumplings hot, and cock-a-doodle-do, &c. &c.
'Till tir'd the clafps the infant to her breast,

Offers the nipple; and the child's at rest.

Thus women and men, who are children grown tall,
¡ When baulk'd of their wishes, will fquabble and squal.
But when paffion's indulg'd in its favourite diet,
Juit like the pleas'd baby, they fleep and are quiet.
Then comes the whining fchocl-boy, &c.
Suppofe me a fchool-boy, with lauk dangling hair,
My fingers froll nipt, and my face full of fear.
At my elbow the Uther, my leffon I'm conning,1339
And horum and harum, I'm thro' the nofe droning ha
[Speaks like a fchael-bay.com

Amo,

Amo, amas, amavi,

When I play'd truant, I cry'd peccavi.

Ye mighty men of claffic lore,

Who ken this age, and that before.
Who are in Latin call'd Doctoribus,
And always fpeak propria quæ maribus,
And write 'bout Heathen Mars and Venus,
And Homer, Horace, and Quæ Genus,
And thunder out Tondappibomminos,
Those very founds to me were ominous.

So I left them, because I'd not be like the lad,

Who must be a scholar, to please Ma or Dad.

When with Latin and Greek many years the boys mused,

He's put to fome calling, where neither is used.

The next is the Lover, fighing like furnace with a woful ballad, &c. Very wotul indeed, for love's full of woe,

And fighs are the fymphonies, Ah! Ah! and Oh! Oh!

I fall try at a love-fong myself very soon,

If you, Mr. Musicians, will keep me in tune.

[To the orchestra.
Suppose me just enter'd, my low bow I've made,

And I ftrut cross the stage, while the tweedle-de's play'd.
Sings to the Tune of, if 'er the cruel, &c. Out of Artaxerxes.
Before the cruel mafter kneels

The boy, his fault to own;
And begs at ev'ry stroke he feels,

O let me, let me down!

O dear, O law, loud roars the lout,
In penance as, he smarts.

Thus Love, is like a whipping bout,
And Cupid flogs our hearts.

Then the foldier, &c. &c.

But now the work of war is o'er,

And fanguin'd flaughter thirsts no more;
Our nation's happy, bless'd, and quiet,

Except a little playhouse riot.

For oft indeed like man and wife,
Audience and actors are at strife;
But errors own'd, the quarrel ends,
A pardon's afk'd, and all are friends.

Now fmiling peace, in unstain'd robe,
Her olive waves, around the globe.
England's fons, who bold have ftood,
Victors on the land and flood;

No more through favage climates roam,
But bear their honours-harvest-home.

GLORY from his triumphal carr,

Unlades the trophies of the war :

Hangs up his fhield, and fheaths his sword,

For gown and flippers gives the word;
And feated in his eldow chair,

Laughs at each tumult here or there.

For want of room we must poftpone the rest of this lecture to the next number.

LIBERTY. An Irregular ODE. Infcribed to the NORTH

W

BRITON.

HENCE, whence this fudden blaze of light,
Which breaks the fhades encircling gloom?

Whence pour thefe fplendors on the fight,
Which wide difpenfe a vivid bloom?

'Tis LIBERTY; fee yonder cloud,

No longer fhall her beauties throwd.

But watching o'er BRITANNIA's fate,
She glows, reveal'd in radiant state.
Yes, rob'd in grandeur's richest veft,
Fountain of joy, thou fhin'ft confefs'd:
Dear LIBERTY, thy rofy hand
Rears Plenty's variegated wand;
The other learning's facred tore,
All the mines of Attic ore:

In fmiling troops the tuneful nine,

The graces, loves, and pleafures join;

Virtue and honour crown the heav'nly train,

And praise in choral Hymns fair freedom's genial reign.

II.

Rous'd to the scene of war by thee,

Ev'n now my country's troops I Lee.

Victorious stalk o'er Minden's plain;

And the land groans with mountains of the flain.

Caught by the glare of fame now furvey

Renown'd Culloden's well fought-day ;

Proud Caledonia's reftlefs fwains,

Unaw'd by Union's facred chains,

Quafh'd by the vengeful frown of injur'd right,

With their gay coward quit the paths of fight.

III.

Dear liberty, thy glorious claim,

High in the rolls of earliest time 5

Has fill'd the warrior with a glowing fame; By thee conducted o'er the steep of fame. VOL. II.

C

Thro

His toiling steps have dar'd to climb.
Thro' dim antiquity's furrounding night.
In long majestic row,
Unnumber'd heroes glow,

And strike my wond'ring fight:
Proceed, celeftial muse, proceed,
My feet to yon' brave Spartan lead;
Who with the charms of conquest flush'd,
Thro' fighting millions rush'd;
While by a manly few fuftain'd,

His ftreaming fword the pass maintain’d.

IV.

Then to th' embattled walls of Rome,

Propitious goddess fly;

Where many a chief has rush'd upon his doom,
Cheer'd by the smile, the smile of LIBERTY:
They pant; they burn; the ftorms of fight,
Swell the dark horrors of incumbent night;
Millions of foes, while freedom rul'd in vain ;

Th' embattl'd tempeft pour'd to quash the Roman reign.

V.

Flaming with frantic fire,

The fon flies headlong 'gainst the fire;

The flave high-brandishing his fword,

Points at the bofom of his lord:

Another mourning his approaching end,

Prefs'd with the agonies of death;

Curfes with imprecation's breath,

His murderer in his friend.

Where then, ah! where was funk the gen'rous grace Of ancient virtue ! where the Roman fcorn,

The tyrant's impious threats to spurn?

Why to your fascinated eyes,

Did not fome heav'n-born Cato rife.

To brave the thunder of his frown;

To cry, with Freedom's influence bless'd,

Turn, turn thy falchion from thy country's breast,
And plunge it in thy own.'

VI.

But ftill, celestial freedom, deign

To smile on Britain's favour'd plain ;

Still with thy genial influence wait,
Divine protectress of her state;
May no invader's hoftile pow'r,
Th' oppreffive ftorms of terror fhow'r

To blaft the fertile land;

May French may Spanish threaten'd course,

Shake at the ilrength of British force,

And shatter'd fly the strand.

VII.

While they, who rear'd on grandeur's tower, Indignant fpurn fair Freedom's pow'r ;

Who