Yes, every poet is a fool: By demonstration Ned can show it: Happy, could Ned’s inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet. _Rhymes given by Miss ― and filled up by the_ HON. AND REV. MR. A―N. Thou bright inspirer of untainted Love, Gay as the lark, and peaceful as the Dove, Thou whose calm breast no struggling passions Heat, May still thy life be, as thy temper, Sweet, By flatterers wearied, when thou seek’st the Shade, May peace attend thee through the silent Glade, May all those powers that heavenly virtue Bless, Improve thy mind, nor make thy beauty Less, But if impatience for sublimer Joy, Prompt thee to call on death, may death be Coy. _Epitaph in Stepney Church-Yard._ Here lies the body of John Saul, Spital-fields weaver, and that’s all. _On Wine._ I was last night a god. How! Can’t you divine? I was raised up to heaven by bumpers of wine. _A Drunken Man._ How can I forbear from dancing? See the stars above me prancing, Moon and planets to my thinking, Just have had a bout of drinking And are setting at defiance All the laws of musty science. Yonder poplar, tall and taper, Round and round me cuts a caper; Oaks and elms, and firs and birches, Hedges, houses, steeples, churches, All to-night are drunk together, And dance as lightly as a feather. I will dance, none dare refuse me, The world’s example must excuse me. _To a Lady that Painted._ Best of all things sure is water. So says Pindar; you say, nay― But detest it worse than slaughter, For your rouge t’would wash away. _To the Painter of a Lady’s Portrait._ Much hast thou done with talents rare, But more is left behind; I see the body of the fair, But where’s her fairer mind? _Take care of the Pence._ Nancy this doctrine early learned, Small savings make great profit; So she the smallest small-coal burned, And very little of it. Her stove and chimney-piece Ned sees, And each provokes his ire! He calleth this―her marble freeze, And that―her small cold fire. Indeed, the very child [query, chill’d] who’d been One winter’s evening by her grate Would learn the difference between A great fire and a fire-grate. _A new Fire Escape._ The house was on fire; Zeno, circled in flame, In vain called for aid,―sure no case e’er was sadder; He escaped. Tell me how? Why, Antimachus came And lent him the use of his nose for a ladder. _On a Miser._ A poor man went to hang himself, But treasure chanced to find; He pocketed the miser’s pelf, And left the rope behind. His money gone, the miser tied Himself up in despair; Thus each the other’s wants supplied, And that was only fair. * * * * * Have you read Shakespeare’s works, my friend? Ned says. His works! no never―but I have his plays.