To Mr. Alexandre, the Ventriloquist. Sir Walter Scott
Of yore, in Old England, it was not thought good,
To carry two visages under one hood:
What should folks say to YOU? who have faces so plenty,
That from under one hood you last night showed us twenty!
Stand forth, arch deceiver, and tell us in truth,
Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth?
Man, woman or child—a dog or a mouse?
Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house?
Each live thing did I ask?—each dead implement too,
A workshop in your person—saw, chisel, and screw!
Above all, are you one individual?—I know
You must be, at least, Alexandre and Co.
But I think you’re a troop, an assemblage, a mob,
And that I, as the sheriff, should take up the job:
And, instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse,
Must read you the riot-act, and bid you disperse!
THE SWALLOWS. R. BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. The Prince of Wales came into Brooke’s one day, and complained of cold, but after drinking three glasses of brandy and water, said he felt comfortable.
The prince came in and said’t was cold,
Then put to his head the rummer,
Till SWALLOW after SWALLOW came,
When he pronounced it summer.