Mr. GARRICK, invited and strongly pressed to pass a week "en famille" at Warwick Castle, arrives, is shewn…

Some strollers invited by Warwick's kind earl, To his castle magnificent came, Prepar'd to respect both the owner and seat, And to shew them due honour and fame.

His chambers, his kitchen, his cellars, they prais'd, But, alas! they soon found to their cost, That if they expected to feast at his house, They reckon'd without their great host.

He shew'd them Guy's pot, but he gave them no soup, No meat would his lordship allow, Unless they had gnaw'd the blade-bone of the boar, Or the rib of the famous dun cow.

" But since you're my friends, (says this complaisant peer) " I'll give you a new-printed book, " Which may to your tastes some amusement afford, " 'Tis the hist'ry of Greville and Brooke."

Since your lordship's so civil, well-bred, and polite, Pray pardon one curse from a sinner, For our breakfast we thank you, our very good lord, But a plague on your family dinner!

When Neville, the stout Earl of Warwick, liv'd here, Fat oxen for breakfast were slain, And his friends were all welcome to sport and good cheer, And invited again and again; His nerves are so weak, and his spirits so low, This earl, with no oxen does feed 'em, And all of the former great doings we know, He gives us a book—and we read 'em.