His card is cut; long days he shuffled through The game of Life; he dealt as others do. Though he by honours tells not its amount, When the last trump is played his tricks will count. * * * * * On a Man and his Wife. Stay, bachelor, if you have wit, A wonder to behold: Husband and wife, in one dark pit, Lie still and never scold. Tread softly tho’ for fear she wakes;— Hark, she begins already: You’ve hurt my head;—my shoulder akes; These sots can ne’er move steady. Ah friend, with happy freedom blest! See how my hopes miscarry’d: Not death can give me rest, Unless you die unmarry’d. * * * * * Here lie the remains of Thomas Woodhen, The most amiable of Husbands, and the most excellent of men. “_N.B._—The name is Woodcock, but it would’nt come in rhyme!” * * * * * On Marshal Sare. N.B.—The figures are to be pronounced in French as un, deux, trois, etc. Ses vertus le feront admiré de chac 1 Il avait des Rivaux, mais il triompha 2 Les Batailles qu’il gagna sont au nombre de 3 Pour Louis son grand cœur se serait mis en 4 En amour, c’était peu pour lui d’aller à 5 Nous l’aurions s’il n’eut fait que le berger Tir’ 6 Pour avoir trop souvent passé douze “Hie-ja” 7 Il a cessé de vivre en Decembre 8 Strasbourg contient son corps dans un Tombeau tout 9 Pour tant de “Te Deum” pas un “De profun” 10 --- He died at the age of 55 _a_. Tircis, the name of a celebrated Arcadian shepherd. _b_. A great personage of the day remarked that it was a pity after the Marshal had by his victories been the cause of so many “Te Deums,” that it would not be allowed (the Marshal dying in the Lutheran faith) to chant one “de profundis,” over his remains. * * * * * On Thomas Jones. Here for the nonce, Came _Thomas Jones_, In St. Giles’s Church to lye; Non Welch before, None Welchman more, Till Show Clerk dy. He tole his bell, He ring his knell. He dyed well, He’s sav’d from hell, And so farewell, Tom Jones. * * * * * On Dr. Walker, who wrote a book called “Particles:”— Here lie Walker’s Particles. * * * * * The tomb of Keats the Poet.