_1st Lady._ I am sure we all join in hearty congratulation--_(sighs)._ _2nd Lady._ And wish you joy with all our hearts--_(heigh ho!)_ _Old Lady._ And hope you will enjoy the name and estate many years--_(cries)._ _Belvil._ Ha! ha! ha! mortify them a little, Jack. _1st Lady._ Hope you intend to stay-- _2nd Lady._ With us some time-- _Old Lady._ In these parts-- _Mr. H._ Ladies, for your congratulations I thank you; for the favors you have lavished on me, and in particular for this lady's _(turning to the old Lady)_ good opinion, I rest your debtor. As to any future favors--_(accosts them severally in the order in which he was refused by them at the assembly)_--Madam, shall always acknowledge your politeness; but at present, you see, I am engaged with a partner. Always be happy to respect you as a friend, but you must not look for anything further. Must beg of you to be less particular in your addresses to me. Ladies all, with this piece of advice, of Bath and you Your ever grateful servant takes his leave. Lay your plans surer when you plot to grieve; See, while you kindly mean to mortify Another, the wild arrow do not fly, And gall yourself. For once you've been mistaken; Your shafts have miss'd their aim--Hogsflesh has saved his Bacon. POEMS. DEDICATION[1] [Footnote 1: Prefixed to the Author's works published in 1818.] * * * * * TO S. T. COLERIDGE, ESQ. My Dear Coleridge, You will smile to see the slender labors of your friend designated by the title of _Works;_ but such was the wish of the gentlemen who have kindly undertaken the trouble of collecting them, and from their judgment could be no appeal. It would be a kind of disloyalty to offer to any one but yourself a volume containing the _early pieces,_ which were first published among your poems, and were fairly derivatives from you and them. My friend Lloyd and myself came into our first battle (authorship is a sort of warfare) under cover of the greater Ajax. How this association, which shall always be a dear and proud recollection to me, came to be broken,--who snapped the threefold cord,--whether yourself (but I know that was not the case) grew ashamed of your former companions,--or whether (which is by much the more probable) some ungracious bookseller was author of the separation,--I cannot tell;--but wanting the support of your friendly elm, (I speak for myself,) my vine has, since that time, put forth few or no fruits; the sap (if ever it had any) has become, in a manner, dried up and extinct; and you will find your old associate, in his second volume, dwindled into prose and _criticism._