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For there's no emptier thing than I,
Which off is thrown, when in the ring But then you shun my company.
She enters with a wondrous fling; Sometimes with noise I roar and rave,
And what you'll think most strange to be, Am sometimes silent as the grave.
We have no joint, we bend no knee, I'm kept by rich, I keep the poor,
Tho' few can move so fast as we. And ne'er was turned from any door
Now, turn me round-put tail before My goods oft pawn'd, and money spent The head-I may have legs, even four, 'Tis hard, indeed, to pay my rent.
Or three; two seldom, often none,
I sometimes have an arm, a long one,
Which for defence needs be a strong one; I am where gold and jewels shine;
For I'm much given to heats and broils; Tho' I have eyes oft lovers gaze at,
And then the blood within me boils ; Yet the bright sun so shoots his rays at, I spare no bones, and well can batter, I'm blinded, and see nought that passes,
And woe to those whom I bespatter; Tho' not without the use of glasses.
Yet oft I'm cool provokingly, Sometimes so mean, I've scarce a rag
And show some tact for irony. Now so superb, I'm fashion's brag.
So, friend, beware lest you be diddled, I shine by day, but more by night,
I am not fond of being 'riddled;
And one of my sure diagnostics
Nor thing, nor person, I strut the stage with jealous scowl ; )
You kill me to converse on, I brave the tempests as they howl;
In secretest places, Am much less given to fair than fowl..)!
I live with the sages And when in moody fits I toss me,
For ages, and ages, How few there are who love to cross me!
Their dust my subsistence
Yet such my strange case is,
My life, the strange spell of,
That even but to tell of,
It costs my existence.
To my first it is owing, that excellent thing, “ The Roast Beef of Old England," we con
stantly sing; We are three cousins strangely born, My second oft dangers presents, which to And form'd as if in Nature's scorn,
pags And in fantastical caprice,
Would puzzle the wisest much more than For we have but one leg &-piece.
the ass; Tho' one of us has scarce a leg,
But my whole shows a goal, better reach'd One nothing better than a peg.
by the slow, The third's is less a leg than toe,
For, if you are fast, you will find it no go. And not to stand on--but to go; Just like a founder'd horse a-skipping
29. A most unslackened pace by whipping. One only has a voice-& sound
Two words I am, which don't unite Like hollow muttering underground,
Except to make this riddle right; Between a whistling and a drumming,
My first is what the lawyers write And thus her tune is always humming,
To head a case, a suit, a plea; Better her dancing time to keep,
My second's loud, prepares for fight,
A broken head too oft his fee.
This killed by verdict soon as spoken; All equally alike in figure
That with as little satisfaction One tapering, one in body bigger;
Is silenced when his head is broken. One, before action, tightly laced,
Read backward, and you will not doubt, Even with a cord about the waist,
Riddles, and murder, too, “ will out."
SOLUTIONS OF THE RIDDLES.
Who finds his level falls below
His own good estimation, But engineers their level make
Oft on the highest station.
In level see the letter v,
(Numerical the riddle); For though five letters make the name,
You find five in the middle.
Turned round, still level level is,
Like thunder first, announced by flashes, But head and tail dissever,
One kills by frowns, one kills thro’ lashes; That little less will stand for eve,
And yet they do so surely pair,
They suit each other to a hair.
Its eyes like jewels badly set,
A house without a parapet, But wedlock, man's strong bond and wo
A window without architrave, man's,
The sea without a curling waveThere's nothing less than Death can break,
The finest features, lacking eyebrow, Or House of Lords and Doctors' Commons.
Would not be worth a single flyblow; Your comb of shell, of tortoise made,
Beauty herself, without its aid
To lend the modesty of shade, That breaks Aurelia's locks apart,
No better than a barefaced jade.) Is envied, when it breaks, to weave
A snare to catch the gazer's heart,
Two letters, H and E, denote
Good sir, your riddle means a map,
Projected by Mercator,
Gradating from th' equator.
To save him from mishap, sir,
In thought and act, a map, sir.
Was that a map might boast of, On which, when he discovered land,
He noted down the coast of.
Know every strong redoubt, sir;
Yourself and men without, sir.
Engraved by Age's meter,
And make a map completer.
However clearly martyred,
And ever drawn and quartered.
Has made full many a match, sir,
Then lifted up the latch, sir.
You have a potent knave, sir;
He knows how to behave, sir.
The P from Pam you sever,
Believe me, sir, yours ever.
What is much older than the Sun
Would puzzle man to say-
Because he rules the Day.
To be both short and long:
His course as giant strong.
And never sit, but set;
Is every day's regret.
Yet once was seen to stand;
By Joshua's chosen band.
Together joined, present
According as 'tis spent
It were a folly to deny
Your first is Plea, a beggar knave
In city and at court,
The lawyer's special sport.
A plea is ever sure,
Or can the whole secure.
In whisper or a sigh,
And Pleasure must be nigh.
There's many a plea made out of time,
All length it reaches-seldom still; And thus we often see
And though a point on mountain tops The silly lover makes too sure
Into the deepest valleys drops, Before he makes his plea.
And spreads the curtain of the hills. But these two words, when well combined The silent shadow midst the roar Both as to time and measure,
Of cannon flies from shore to shore, Will seldom fail to gain their end
Follows the smoke its pall to spread
Over the dying and the dead;
No substance having, falsely view'd'
Yet never grasped—so small, the shell That beauty walks in silk array,
Of hazel-nut might hold it well; But 'tis thy skill and splendour showing.
So large, by mightiest hand 'tis hurled When Thomas takes fair Ann to church,
Beyond the confines of the world,
Your first alone would give no guide Wilt thou be follow'd to the minster,
The word's veiled meaning to divine; For 'tis thy fate to furnish brides
For what fair lady could decide And be thyself a noted spinster.
That such would be the effect of wine ? The next affords a better clue,
To female hearts is more akin,
Maternal love, both strong and true, The Sea is cross'd all o'er and o'er by help of Will ever fondly bless a twin. needle fine,
To arts and arms, to toil and skill, The yellow, red, and black, and white-and Too true, it is not always in ere you cross the line
The power of those who have the skill You see its waters blue and green. The
Success in their pursuit to win. second is a Son, Which all men are of woman born-yet so
But now its parts restore, behold,
The word 's full sense will clearly shine, unborn was one,
Although the vaunt is somewhat bold, For Adam was ere woman was;—thus every Round maiden's heart so sure to twine.
man on earth, Beggar and king, a mother had to whom he
owed his birth. Join Sea and Son-you Season make, which varies everywhere,
What bolder, louder than a gun? As climate or as weather makes, and is or
Change u to i-beware-oh, shun foul or fair;
That aly soft path-and see therein 'Tis hot, 'tis cold, 'tis wet, 'tis dry, fish, flesh,
The metamorphosis to gin. fowl, love, and treason,
Spring, gun, and gin, are sometimes one; Even prose and rhyme are sometimes in
You're caught by gin, and shot by gun; and sometimes out of Season.
Yet gun and gin, in general view,
For gun goes off, if there be danger-
But gin is not so wide a ranger, See Petrarch's sonnet ere you solve this
But close and secret lurks, for such is riddle.
His art to catch you in his clutches. Two letters from beginning, end, and middle,
This riddle may a trap imply, Ta'en from Verona -Ve-Ro-Na-denote
Which may not at first reading strike. Three famous cities; but I rather quote
That as the letters--You and I -To pass Verona's fame from age to age
Whate'er we seem, are not alike; Those her “Two Gentlemen " for every
Small difference in our moral sight stage,
Makes right seem wrong, and wrong seem Above all heroes as Verona's stay,
right. Who make the title of our Shakespeare's play.
14. Is not a glove handsome, and ought it not
to be matched? for it is one, and should be a Both sun and moon a shadow make,
pair. It has the offer of every lady's hand; Which does of neither nature take;
and has it not received all the love-letters, For darkest 'tis, the nearest light
L. O. V. E.? and yet one letter too many, And moon-made shadows oft affright. G., overpowers the proper emphasis of love. But shadow might be thought begun So that as glove, it is doubtless off and on with When yet was neither moon nor sun.
many. Is no bride itself, but cast off at the Akin to chaos-newly born
altar at the moment of to have and to hold. 'Tis biggest-at mid-day 'tis shorn;
No priest will put on a ring over a glove. Longest at evening, as in the morn
As a glove, all desire to see it matched; yet
as long as it is a gloy
it is a glove it must be single, And Fashions' purtenance is French,
The real judgment 'tis of Paris,
For should an English dame profess Remove the letter s from space.
To be of taste the arbitressYon find the measure of a pace;
The fatal issue's beyond tellingThen banish P, you have the ace,
They'd put a bonnet on some Helen, Within a palm is space confined,
A casus belli shout with joy, And is unlimited as mind.
And act another siege of Troy. Of all the suits within the pack,
Would Pluto ere have been consenting Whether they be the red or black,
To quit the pleasure of tormenting,
And keeping satisfactory eye on
Th' eternal treadmill of Ixion,
For Ceres' daughter up in Enna,
With a complexion brown as senna ?
Which surely must have been the case
Without protection to her face;
Tho' very certain without this
She had not caught the heart of Dis.
She gather'd flowers, and why ? - with art
To make her bonnet look more smart.
For nicest ladies in those days
Were not o'erburthen'd much with stays,
Nor kerchiefs whereunto to pin,
Or vests to keep a floweret in.
But not to mar with low conclusion
The grand historical allusion,
Nor hurt in bonnet's own behoof
This dignity of classic proof,
Worthy a fourteen power of sonnet,
All meaner thoughts must stand aloof Interfere not fatal U,
-Good sir-your riddle means a Bonnet. Making mourning sorrow.
Let nothing more be said upon it,
But this-let French or English pin it,
We bless all heads that are within it.
Weeping widows wear them.
A shoe and string denote the thing
You wish me to discover,
For either are as given to pair,
As mistress and a lover.
For use and show the string's a beau, 17.
And both so tied together, All peoples, languages, and nations,
For wear and tear, for foul and fair, Of whatsoe'er pronunciations,
As up and under leather. Far as north, south, east, west, can reach, Both are undone, since both make one, Sound a, the letter in their speech.
If once the tie be broken Alike the savage and polite,
Shoe sued in fright, of such a plight In this at least agreeing quite,
To Buckle the fair-spoken. A surely stood in front of Adam
String saw their plans, forbad the banns, As second, and as fourth in madam.
Then tied his knot so clever Adam prefixed it to the name
'Twixt him and shoe-henceforth the two Of creatures all that to him came;
United are for ever.
Long may they reign, a happy train,
Each to the other fitted-As 'twas by Zeno in bis stoa;
And by the foot, the rival boot And if days were when it was not,
Like Buckle be outwitted.
A thing must be something;
It may be a hum thing-
A sham or a dumb thing,
Such as are many things.
Put no before it,
It bids you ignore it;
To nothing restore it,
And nothing can't make anything.
But nothing must be
Ill-furnish'd garrets often fit,
The upper storey of a wit,
Both empty, noticed oft to quit.
Rooms silent are from wall to floor,
Or set the tables in a roar.
A House is out of windows turn'd,
Ne'er was a room turnd out of doors.
A sick room, left with scarce a shred, 21.
Is better, if it keeps its bed. A negative is no,
How sad the Room where misery lies, Too positive is vice;
How gorgeous where the rich man dies-No vice to know,
Where jewels shine in nightly blaze,
Where lovers up to windows gaze;
Where in despite some day-blind covers Making thee more than man.
The scrutinies of sun and lovers,
Giving their good look-out chagrin,
By not allowing looking in:
And tho it furnish'd be with glasses, Unmans thee, heart and soul;
No spectacles can see what passes,
For windows are but eyes disposed
To let in the most light when closed.
Less thing the toscance,
The letter I if you pursue,