2. The Stages of Cruelty, in four prints. _Designed by Wm. Hogarth, price_ 4 _s._ Of the two latter of these there are wooden plates[1] on a large scale, _Invd. and published by Wm. Hogarth, Jan._ 1, 1750. _J. Bell sculp._ They were done by order of our artist, who wished to diffuse the salutary example they contain, as far as possible, by putting them within the reach of the meanest purchaser; but finding this mode of executing his design was expensive beyond expectation, he proceeded no further in it, and was content to engrave them in his own coarse, but spirited manner. Impressions from the wooden blocks are to be had at Mrs. _Hogarth's_ house in _Leicester-fields_. This set of prints, however, is illustrated with the following verses: FIRST STAGE OF CRUELTY. While various scenes of sportive woe The infant race employ, And tortur'd Victims bleeding shew The tyrant in the boy; Behold! a _youth_ of gentler heart, To spare the Creature's pain,[2] O take, he cries--take all my tart, But tears and tart are vain. Learn from this fair example--you, Whom savage sports delight, How Cruelty disgusts the view, While pity charms the sight. SECOND STAGE OF CRUELTY. The generous _steed_, in hoary age, Subdu'd by labour lies; And mourns a cruel master's rage, While _Nature_ strength denies. The tender _Lamb_, o'erdrove and faint, Amidst expiring throes, Bleats forth it's innocent complaint, And dies beneath the blows. Inhuman wretch! say whence proceeds This coward Cruelty? What int'rest springs from barb'rous deeds What joy from misery? III. CRUELTY IN PERFECTION. To lawless _Love_ when once betray'd, Soon crime to crime succeeds; At length beguil'd to _Theft_, the _maid_ By her _beguiler_ bleeds. Yet learn, seducing man, not night With all its sable cloud, Can skreen the guilty _deed_ from sight: Foul Murder cries aloud. The gaping wounds, the blood-stain'd steel, Now shock his trembling _soul_: But oh! what pangs his breast must feel, When Death his knell shall toll. IV. THE REWARD OF CRUELTY. Behold, the _Villain's_ dire disgrace Not death itself can end: He finds no peaceful _burial-place_; His breathless corse, no friend, Torn from the root, that wicked _Tongue_, Which daily swore and curst! Those eye-balls, from their sockets wrung, That glow'd with lawless lust. His heart, exposed to prying eyes, To pity has no claim; But, dreadful! from his bones shall rise His monument of shame.[3] [1] N. B. The first of these wooden cuts differs in many circumstances from the engraving. In the former, the right hand of the murderer is visible; in the latter it is pinioned behind him. Comparison will detect several other variations in this plate and its fellow.