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POLITICAL SONG.

[From the Oracle.]

"I confider the events of the 23d of July as a premature birth, or rather as an abortion of Ireland, cured by the care and precaution of HER DOCTOR."

(Vide the Speech of an Irish Member; or, a New Lecture on Midwifery, delivered on the Irish Rebellion Debate, and fet to the old tune of Nancy Dawfon.)

PILLARS of the obstetric trade,

Accoucheurs, midwives, bow your head,

And bend to all fo wifely faid

By Doctor Dicky Dawson!

"For births, however premature,
And for abortions, he was fure
That he could find a perfect cure"-

Rare Doctor Dicky Dawson!

The House they gap'd with eager gaze,
The Speaker look'd with fage amaze!
And all prepar'd to fing the praise

Of Doctor Dicky Dawfon!
He faid "th' abortion now was clear;
Ireland, the mammy, would appear,
Rebellion too, her embryo"-dear,

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Rare Doctor Dicky Dawson !
And how," what Galen ne'er had done,
Th' accoucheur Doctor Ad--n
Cur'd Ireland of this embryo fon❞—
Rare Doctor Dicky Dawfon!

Alas! for that ill-fated land,
Adn lends th' obstetric hand,
With clyftering Alexander, and

Rare Doctor Dicky Dawson!

BRODUM.

MR. EDITOR,

AXING PARDON.

[From the fame.]

NOTHING can be more uncivil than to interfere between two gentlemen who may have had a little difference of opinion; and therefore when my friend and countryman, the Member for M-n-ghan, had fo civilly axed pardon from Mr. Adn before all the whole tote of the Houfe of Commons, after they were gone home, for having called him a Doctor, it was not fo civil of you to talk fo much about an abortion and a premature birth-unlefs you mane to infinuate that my friend, the Member for M-n-ghan, was either the one or t' other of thofe hard names : and if that is your maning, I muft tell you that he is as entirely, and as well borned as any man in Ireland; and fo far from being a premature birth, his head is as hard as any other jontleman's; and he fhall be ready to prove it, by breaking yours, or that of any body that calls him an abortion. And fo, Sir, without any farther botheration, all his maning was, that the Irish Rebellion that broke out on the 23d of July, was not born at all, at all; but was only born prematurely, and fo being an abortion, and not being at all, at all, it was cured by the Doctor, by which his maning was Mr. Adbut he did not mane to call him a Doctor. And now if any body has any farther queftions to ax about this, or any message to fend to me as a jontleman, they will always find me at home to give them fatisfaction; but I do not choose that my lodgings fhould be known, for at prefent I have none; and fo, as I faid before, I don't choose to give you my drefs; but I am, Sir,

-n;

Your humble fervant,

ad

MURDOCH O'MONAGHAN.

A LECTURE UPON HEADS.

IS proverbially handed from father to fon,

'TIS

And agreed, that "two heads are much better than one ;” But Fofter has prov'd (oh, unfortunate lout!)

"That one head with brains, far excels two without."

CORNELIUS CAPUT.

"PAR NOBILE;" OR, IRISH EXCHANGE.
[From the Oracle:]

HAIL, illuftrious Alexander !

I do not mean King Philip's fon,
That very great renown'd Commander,
Who got fo drunk for Perfia won.
The one I mean is not the Greek,
But Ch-r of the Means and Ways;
Fam'd for that hubble-bubble fqueak

That gives fuch grace to all he says;
One who ne'er thinks of wounds or bruifes,
Of Vict'ry's wreath, or Glory's fear;

On double falary he mufes,

And Irish penfion paid at "par."
Hephaeftion Corry by his fide,

The noble Ormfby at his heels-
And Caftlereagh, that "Eaftern Bride,"
With Grant harp-fet at Irish feals.
But, hufh! the Doctor rifes; fent,
Timotheus-like, to footh their care;
To fiug the joys of seven per cent,

The "good the gods" provide at "par."
"Clear accounts are toil and trouble;
Salary the placeman's pleasure;
Honour but an empty bubble,

So we fhare the nation's treasure,"
Congenial fouls, in full-ton'd choir,
Unite to fhield each others' fame,
And duly grateful to the Ly-r,
Hail your Timo heus Doctor's name.

BRODUM.

THE CALDRON, A POLITICAL MASQUE,

ALTERED FROM SHAKSPEARE;

As intended to have been performed at a PRIVATE THEATRE, on Sunday Evening, by HIS MAJESTY'S DISCARDED SERANTS, and fome other RISING ACTORS,

PORTER.

[From the Herald.]

SCENE-A PORTER'S LODGE.
SYMPHONY Obligato.

BY the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes!

VOICE within. Open locks, whoever knocks!

ARIETTA, by an Invisible.

Black fpirits, and white,

Blue fpirits with Grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,

You that mingle may!

RECITATIVE, by the Municipal Officer of the NIGHT, on the

appearance of various Spirits.

How now 'ye fecret, black, and midnight hags,

What is 't you do?

SPIRITS All, A deed without a name!

[They enter.

AIR, affetuofo, by the Lady of the Cafle.
"Foul whilperings are abroad! unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
To their deaf pillows will difcharge their fecrets:
Oh that these fell confpirings had an end!" [Exit.
SCENE-A Midnight View of a MARINE TEMPLE.
Enter WITCHES, with their brooms, &c.
RECITATIVE.

1 WITCH-Where haft thou been, fifter?

2d Ditto-Feeding our fwine.

Sifter, where thou?

*1ft WITCH-In yonder naval court-a failor Lord

Had chefouts in his lap: Give me, quoth L,

*The rehearsal was poftponed on account of the performer who was to enact the Chief Witch fending word, that he should not be ready in his part before Thursday next.

A

Aroint thee, Witch, the rump-fed runnion
cried ;

He to the Ind' hath fent his barques of war
To fcour that coaft of furious infidels:
But in a fieve I'll thither fail,

And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do! I'll do! I'll do !

3d WITCH-I'll give thee a wind.

ift Ditto

4th Ditto

if Ditto

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-Thou art kind.

-And I another.

And I myself have all the other.
I will yet his progress stay,
Sleep fhall neither night nor day
Hang upon his penthouse lid;
He fhall live a man forbid !
Weary fev'nights, nine times nine,
Shall be dwindle, peak, and pine:
Though his bark cannot be loft,
Yet it fhall be tempest-tost!
[Afmoking CALDRON rifes-Thunder.]
HECATE-Twice the brinded cat hath mew'd,

Twice and once the hedge-pig whin'd,
Harper cries, 'T is time! 't is time!
Round about the Culdron go,
In the poifon'd entrails throw.
DUETTO-Con Spirito.

Toad that fwells with Envy's cud,
Teeth of Wolf, ftill wet with blood,
Tears of Crocodile now bring,
Serpent's venom, Blind worm's fting!
For a charm of pow'rful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil, and bubble!
QUARTETTO-Furiofo.

Root of hemlock digg'd i' th' dark,
Maw of rav'nous falt-fea Shark,
Statefman's glib, deceitful lips,
Blacken'd by the moon's eclipse;
And with flaver from his gab,
Make the gruel thick and flab:
Cool it foon with mighty blood,
Then the charm is firm, and good!

HECATE

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