(Drawn by L. C. HENLEY.) had set out before them in his fishing-boat, and they expected at their arrival to have found him on shore. Ajut, distracted at this intelligence, was about to fly into the hills, without knowing why, though she was now in the hands of her parents, who forced her back to their own hut, and endeavoured to comfort her; but when at last they retired to rest, Ajut went down to the beach, where, finding a fishing-boat, she entered it without hesitation, and telling those who wondered at her rashness that she was going in search of Anningait, rowed away with great swiftness, and was seen no more. The fate of these lovers gave occasion to various fictions and conjectures. Some are of opinion that they were changed into stars; others imagine that Anningait was seized in his passage by the genius of the rocks, and that Ajut was transformed into a mermaid, and still continues to seek her lover in the deserts of the sea. But the general persuasion is, that they are both in that part of the land of souls where the sun never sets, where oil is always fresh, and provisions always warm. The virgins sometimes throw a thimble and a needle into the bay from which the hapless maid departed; and when a Greenlander would praise any couple for virtuous affection, he declares that they love like Anningait and Ajut. PHAETHON; OR, THE AMATEUR COACHMAN. [J. G. SAXE. See Page 78.] AN PHAETHON-so the Depend upon it, the coach 'll be sp'iled, histories run- Was a jolly young chap, and a son of the Sun; You'll rue the day, Or rather of Phoebus; but So mind me, and don't be foolish, Pha!" as to his mother, Genealogists make a deuce of a pother, Some going for one, and some for another! For myself, I must say, as a careful explorer, This roaring young blade was the son of Aurora! Now old Father Phoebus, ere railways begun Drove a very fast coach by the name of "the Running, they say, Trips every day (On Sundays and all, in a heathenish way), And lighted up with famous array Of lanterns that shone with a brilliant display, And dashing along like a gentleman's shay With never a fare and nothing to pay. Now Phaethon begged of his doting old father To grant him a favour, and that the rather, Since some one had hinted, the youth to annoy, That he wasn't by any means Phoebus's boy. Intending, the rascally son of a gun, To darken the brow of the son of the Sun. "By the terrible Styx," said the angry sire, While his eyes flashed volumes of fury and fire, "To prove your reviler an infamous liar, I swear I will grant you whate'er you desire." "Then by my head," But the youth was proud, And swore aloud It was just the thing to astonish a crowd. He had given his word in such a hurry. "Parce stimulis, utere loris" (A stage direction, of which the core is, As the judge remarked to a rowdy Scotchman, Now Phaethon, perched in the coachman's place, Whack! crack!" As all agree, Off the coach was suddenly hurled Into a puddle and out of the world! MORAL. Don't rashly take to dangerous courses, Nor set it down in your table of forces, That any one man equals any four horses, DESCRIPTION OF BELINDA AND THE SYLPHS. FALSTAFF'S REGIMENT. [W. SHAKESPEARE. See Page 33.] Falstaff. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton-Cophill to night. Bardolph. Will you give me money, captain? Bard. This bottle makes an angel. Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all; I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. 303 but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the rednose inn-keeper of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. Enter Prince HENRY and WESTMORELAND. P. Hen. How now, blown Jack! how now, quilt! Fal. What, Hal! how now, mad wag! what dost thou in Warwickshire?-My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy: I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury. West. Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already. The king, I can tell you, looks for us all: we must away all night. Fal. Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream. P. Hen. I think, to steal cream, indeed; for thy P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal Bard. I will captain: farewell. [Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press confoundedly. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum! such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bodies no bigger than pins'-heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and such as, indeed, were never soldiers, but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old-faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat:: nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. men. West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare,-too beggarly. Fal. Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that; and for their bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me. P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is already in the field. Fal. What is the king encamped? West. He is, Sir John: I fear we shall stay too long. Fal. Well, To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast [Exeunt. DESCRIPTION OF BELINDA AND THE SYLPHS. THIS nymph, to the destruction of mankind, And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. The advent'rous baron the bright locks admired; He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired. Resolved to win, he meditates the way, By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; For when success a lover's toil attends, Few ask if fraud or force attained his ends. For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored Propitious heaven, and every power adored; But chiefly Love-to Love an altar built, Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt. There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves, And all the trophies of his former loves; With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre, And breathes three amorous sighs to raise the fire Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize; The powers gave ear, and granted half his prayer, The rest the winds dispersed in empty air. But now secure the painted vessel glides, Amid the circle on the gilded mast, Others on earth o'er human race preside, Our humbler province is to tend the fair, This day, black omens threat the brightest fair Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law, Or whether heaven has doomed that Shock must fall. Haste, then, ye spirits! to your charge repair: Form a strong line about the silver bound, Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, He spoke; the spirits from the sails descend: Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend; Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair, Some hang upon the pendants of her ear: With beating hearts the dire event they wait, Anxious, and trembling for the birth of fate. HOW A GALLANT SHOULD BEHAVE HIMSELF. HOW A GALLANT SHOULD BEHAVE HIMSELF IN ST. PAUL'S WALK. HE that would strive to fashion his legs to his silk stockings, and his proud gait to his broad garters, let him whiff down these observations; for if he once get to walk by the book-and I see no reason but he may, as well as fight by the book-Paul's may be proud of him; Will Clarke shall ring forth encomiums in his honour; John, in Paul's Churchyard, shall fit his head for an excellent block; whilst all the inns of court rejoice to behold his most handsome calf. Your mediterranean isle is then the only gallery, wherein the pictures of all your true fashionate and complimental gulls are, and ought to be hung up. Into that gallery carry your neat body; but take heed you pick out such an hour when the main shoal of islanders are swimming up and down. And first observe your doors of entrance and your exit; not much unlike the players at the theatres; keeping your decorums even in fantasticality. As, for example, if you prove to be a northern gentleman, I would wish you to pass through the north door, more often especially than any of the other; and so, according to your countries, take note of your entrances. [T. DECKER. See Page 18.] Now for your venturing into the walk. Be circumspect and wary what pillar you come in at; and take heed in any case, as you love the reputation of your honour, that you avoid the servingman's log, and approach not within five fathom of that pillar; but bend your course directly in the middle line, that the whole body of the church may appear to be yours; where, in view of all, you may publish your suit in what manner you affect most, either with the slide of your cloak from the one shoulder; and then you must, as 'twere in anger, suddenly snatch at the middle of the inside, if it be taffeta at the least; and so by that means your costly lining is betrayed, or else by the pretty advantage of compliment. But one note by the way do I especially woo you to, the 39-VOL. I. (Drawn by S. SMITH.) 305 neglect of which makes many of our gallants cheap and ordinary, that by no means you be seen above four turns; but in the fifth make yourself away, either in some of the sempsters' shops, the new tobacco-office, or amongst the booksellers, where, if you cannot read, exercise your smoke, and inquire who has writ against this divine weed, &c. For this withdrawing yourself a little will much benefit your suit, which else, by too long walking, would be stale to the whole spectators: but howsoever, if Paul's jacks be once up with their elbows, and quarrelling to strike eleven; as soon as ever the clock has parted them, and ended the fray with his hammer, let not the duke's gallery contain you any longer, but pass away apace in open view; in which departure, if by chance you |