Epitaph On A Mercenary Miser

A poor benighted Pedlar knock'd One night at SELL-ALL'S door, The same who saved old SELL-ALL'S life-- 'Twas but the year before! And Sell-all rose and let him in, Not utterly unwilling, But first he bargain'd with the man, And took his only shilling! That night he dreamt he'd given away his pelf, Walk'd in his sleep, and sleeping hung himself! And now his soul and body rest below; And here they say his punishment and fate is To lie awake and every hour to know How many people read his tombstone GRATIS.

First published in Morning Post, Oct. 9, 1802.

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A DIALOGUE BETWEEN AN AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND

Author. Come; your opinion of my manuscript!

Friend. Dear Joe! I would almost as soon be whipt.

Author. But I will have it!

Friend. If it must be had--(hesitating) You write so ill, I scarce could read the hand--

Author. A mere evasion!

Friend. And you spell so bad, That what I read I could not understand.

First published in Morning Post, Oct. 11, 1802.

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+Môrosophia+ OR WISDOM IN FOLLY

Tom Slothful talks, as slothful Tom beseems, What he shall shortly gain and what be doing, Then drops asleep, and so prolongs his dreams And thus enjoys at once what half the world are wooing.

First published in Morning Post, Oct. 11, 1802.

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Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf! He shews his clothes! Alas! he shews himself. O that they knew, these overdrest self-lovers, What hides the body oft the mind discovers.

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