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"So well all Europe knows me and my works,
"Next month I'll shew my parts among the Turks;
"Now, now's the lucky time to cure your sight,
"This wonder-working needle sets it right:
"Consult with me, great Queen, nor more regard
"That cursed tar-water, or the pills of Ward.

He spoke, and turning carelessly display'd
His golden badge of honour, and brocade.
The simpering Queen embraced her wondrous
son,

And thus with sneer sarcastical begun:

*' Go on, and prosper, great exotick knight, "Yet shew some reverence for thy mother's sight: "Tho' of that glittering pendant justly vain, "In France tho' honour'd, and adored in Spain; "Tho' Germans, Goths, and Huns, thy skill admire, "And many a nurse, and many a rural Squire,

Yet I the greatest of all fools should be, "Tho' Queen of Dupes, to trust my eyes with thee.

Next came, resolved the Goddess to trepan,
Something betwixt a Monkey and a Man,
(Not far behind in impudence the first)
Who aped all characters, and wore the worst;
Fspressu'e thrice he thook his empty held,
Ferdy addrens'd liie dame, and thus he said:

"How blest nm I, Ul'istrious Q.ieen, to think
*' STou Jeii'n to tii, your own dear son the w ink I
"Lo! here I stand, obsequious to your call,
"Great patron, friend, and mother of us all:
"So keeu vour piercer, and so sweet your smile,
"You charm us at the distance of a mile.
"To crown with high festivity the night,
"If jest, and farce, and mimickry delight,
*' The stingless satire, and the ideot sneer,
"J'11 mount my roslruin, and turn Auctioneer,
"My taste consists of foolery and fun;
"Without your succour I had been undone:
"To you 'tis owing that I please the great;
"Thro' you I eat to live, and live to eat:
"That I the chattering of maccaws exceed,
**' And learn queer faces from the monkey breed,
".Like Proteus boast dexterity of limb—
"To you I owe it all, and not to him:
"Yours be the praise, that from my infant state
"You taught your son to move, to grin, to prate."
He ended, and prepared to take his stand,
As Auctioneer, with hammer in his hand:
The Goddess watch d him sly, and at his head
Hurling her Plautus, thus indignant said;

"Vile wretch, thou'rt much too silly for my son,
"Born on Bseotian bogs, away, begone,
"Go and reserve the squeezings of thy brains
"To brew small beer, and feed the pigs with
grains."

Abash'd he stood—shame fluster'd him all o'er,
And he once blusht, who never blusht before;
Fear made him fly, and with amazing art,
He took three strides, and jump'd into a cart.

PAUL HIFFERMAN.

County of Dublin, 1719— 1777.

Hifferman's parents designed him to be a Popish Priest; h» was sent to France to finish his education, but after remaining there seventeen years, he took a batchelor's degree in physic and returned to Dublin to practise. He left that city in consequence of having unsuccessfully written against Dr. Lucas, and repaired to London to liva. by his wits. Here he obtained a dirty livehhood by writing pamphlets, levying contributions upon his friends, and eitorting money from the actors.

An amusing account of this eccentrick and despicable scoundrel, who attracted considerable notice in his day, may be found in the European Magazine. His Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, 1754, entitle him to a place in this series.

The Author on himself.
The author, I, to reason's dictates true,
Love all mankind, a Deist, Turk, or Jew,

No matter what your faith or country be,

If a good fellow, 'tis all one to me.

Our life's so short, for sects why should we justle.

In the great day Heaven will decide the bustle.

While in this world to all I'd civil be,

And would from all require civility.

Four lustres and one annual orb have run,

Since in this world existence I begun.

And now behold the sad result of all,

My travelling, studying, labours, great or small,

Heaven for past sins, to avert all future pain,

Has plagued, not bless'd me with a scribbling vein.

'lis not, I swear, for sordid gain I chuse,
But for herself I woo the lovely Muse.
"Tis she that tunes, that animates my lyre,
"Warms my gay soul, and sets me all on fire.

Of what I trifle, learn the mighty ends,
To please myself, divert good humour'd friends.
I'll therefore scorn all envious criticks slight;
For 'tis amusement—in my mirth I write;
But still jog on, and follow my own ways,
Careless of partial censure, deaf to praise.

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