"A day or two passed amorously sweet Love, kissing, cooing, billing, all their meat, At length they both felt hungry--'What's for dinner? Pray, what have we to eat my dear,' quoth Poll. 'Nothing,' by all my wisdom, answered Owl. 'I never thought of that, as I'm a sinner But Poll on something I shall put my pats What sayst thou, deary, to a dish of rats?' '_Rats_--Mister Owl, d'ye think that I'll eat rats, Eat them yourself or give them to the cats,' Whines the poor bride, now bursting into tears: 'Well, Polly, would you rather dine on mouse I'll catch a few if any in the house;' 'I won't eat rats, I won't eat mice--I won't Don't tell me of such dirty vermin--don't O, that within my cage I had but tarried.' 'Polly,' quoth owl, 'I'm sorry I declare So delicate you relish not our fare You should have thought of that before you married.'" "The Ode to the Devil," is in reality a severe satire upon human nature under an unpleasant form. He says that men accuse the devil of being the cause of all the misdoings with which they are themselves solely chargeable, moreover that in truth they are very fond of him, and guilty of gross ingratitude in calling him bad names:-- "O Satan! whatsoever gear Thy Proteus form shall choose to wear Black, red, or blue, or yellow Whatever hypocrites may say They think thee (trust my honest lay) A most bewitching fellow. * * * * * "'Tis now full time my ode should end And now I tell thee like a friend, Howe'er the world may scout thee Thy ways are all so wondrous winning And folks so very fond of sinning They cannot do without thee." Sheridan was one of those writers to whose pecuniary distresses we owe the rich treasure he has bequeathed. His brother and his best friend confided to him that they were both in love with Miss Linley, a public singer, and his romantic or comic nature suggested to him that while they were competing for the prize, he might clandestinely carry it off. Succeeding in his attempt, he withdrew his wife from her profession, and was ever afterwards in difficulties. He seems in his comedies to have a love of sudden strokes and surprises, approaching almost to practical jokes, and very successful when upon the stage. A screen is thrown down and Lady Teazle discovered behind it--a sword instead of a trinket drops out of Captain Absolute's coat--the old duenna puts on her mistress' dress--all these produce an excellent effect without showing any very great power of humour. But he was celebrated as a wit in society--was full of repartee and pleasantry, and we are surprised to find that his plays only contain a few brilliant passages, and that their tissue is not more generally shot through with threads of gold.