Quæ Genus & The Money-Lenders.]

QUÆ GENUS, was brimful of zeal To seize each turn of Fortune's wheel, And eager to fulfil his plan Of rising to a gentleman: But though gold roll'd beneath his eye, Though fees were paid and bribes were high, His heart, which had not lost its feeling, Shrunk from the base, remorseless dealing, That gloating avarice employ'd O'er the rich ruins it enjoy'd. While, therefore, some kind, gen'rous sense His heart felt of benevolence, And ere of honour quite bereft, He the rapacious LEVI left, In hope he might obtain a place He should not think as a disgrace; Nor of success had he to fear From VALCOUR'S written character; Where all his virtues were pourtray'd, In such a view that he was made In every domestic sense A paragon of excellence. But sad to tell, it was not long Before temptations, more than strong, Were urg'd by a kind, zealous friend, Who us'd on bus'ness to attend Old LEVI'S Levees: He display'd In artful whisper, the sure trade, Which, manag'd as he could define, Would shortly prove a golden mine. "Think not," he said, "that I am canting; Money, my friend, is all that's wanting. A certain sum could I command, I soon would purchase house and land. Ere a short time had onward run, I would strut forth a BUCK OF TON; The world, with its dull pride, defy, And jostle fools of quality."

QUÆ GENUS felt his brooding plan To be a finish'd GENTLEMAN, At that same word his spirit started, And instantly he grew great hearted. "Your scheme," he said, "at once explain: If gainful, you shall share the gain." "But hear me out," it was replied, "And then you will be satisfied. Know, you must an assistant be At a club's gaming revelry. O check, I pray, your staring eyes, From looking on me with surprise; Let not the scheme I offer freeze you, Hear, and then do as it may please you! Think not I would your hand entice To deal the card or shake the dice; You must employ a knowing friend, And such a one I can commend; He's wary, and suspicion guards, By shrewdly managing his cards; Whate'er he does is done with ease, And heaps his gains by slow degrees, Till he has such a sum attain'd By which his object may be gain'd, Then one successful effort make, And seize a fortune in the stake. He watches those who love to drink, And sticks to such as cannot think: He turns his skilful inclination To young men who are prone to passion; He has cool words for those who're heated, Whose pride will not believe they're cheated; In short, he can a card entice, And fix good-fortune on the dice. With him you may your money trust; He will be generous as he's just: Proceed at once on manly ground And trust him with five hundred pound; With that, my friend, let him alone, He'll use it as it were his own."

QUÆ GENUS enter'd on his place And acted with becoming grace; But with his keen, suspicious eye He saw what look'd like treachery, Which wak'd the fancy to be thrifty, So, of his pounds he gave but fifty. --On his official duties bound, He pac'd the hubbub-table round, And with attentive leering kenn'd His trusty, confidential friend, Whose frequent nods and silent grinning Full plainly told, he had been winning; But, when QUÆ GENUS ask'd th' amount, His friend thus settled the account. "It does my very heart-strings grieve That you have nothing to receive: Two hours ago my luck was crost, And then your fifty pounds were lost; For when with your advance I play'd Fortune became an arrant jade: Though since 'tis true that I have won, But then the risk was all my own; And, if you had but ventur'd more, Your purse might now be running o'er. With a round sum to-morrow night, Fortune may set all matters right: As 'tis in war, so 'tis with gold, She fails not to protect the bold."

Our Hero was not such a Flat As to sit down content with that: He first determin'd to resist Or with a cudgel or a fist: But on reflection, felt an awe Of the grim, prosecuting law: Besides, had he enrag'd the room, It might have prov'd his final doom: Still he for vengeance inly cried And he was shortly satisfied. --The Bow-street folk he happ'd to know Were walking that way to and fro, And when more closely on the watch, He mov'd the door's unwilling latch, The myrmidons rush'd rudely in, And all above was noise and din. Candles and lamps were all put out, When it became a mingled rout, While for the money on the table Each grasp'd as much as he was able; And our QUÆ GENUS had engross'd More than by Humbug he had lost; Then nimbly made a safe retreat To lodgings in no distant street.

Here, for some time he pac'd the room, To dissipate th' oppressive gloom That did upon his spirits light From the proceedings of the night. "Indeed," he said, "what then was done I do not wish to look upon, Nay I would from my mem'ry cast My curious ways for some time past, But certain, busy reasons tell Such effort is impossible. All therefore, that I now can do Is the forthcoming time to woo With those endearments which may prove QUÆ GENUS worthy of its love: With that just sense of what is right, That makes the moral lamp burn bright."