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Eftsoons there stepped forth

A goodly lady, clad in hunter's weed,
That seem'd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her stately portance borne of hea-
venly birth.

Her face so fair, as flesh it seemed not, But heavenly portraict of bright angels hiew, Clear as the sky withouten blame or blot, Through goodly mixture of complexions dew,

And in her cheeks the vermill' red did shew,
Like roses in a bed of lilies shed,
The which ambrosial odours from them
threw,

And gazers' sense with double pleasure fed, Able to heal the sick, and to revive the dead.

In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame, Kindled above, at th' heav'nly Maker's light, And darted fiery beams out of the same, So passing pearceant, and so wondrous bright,

That quite bereav'd the rash beholders of their sight:

In them the blinded god his lustful fire To kindle oft' assay'd, but had no might; For, with dread majesty, and awful ire, She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.

Nought under Heaven so strongly doth allure

The sense of man, and all his mind possess, As Beauty's love-bait, that doth procure Great warriors of their rigour to repress, And mighty hands forget their manliness, Drawn with the pow'r of an heart-robbing

eye,

And wrapt in fetters of a golden tress,

That can with melting pleasance mollify Their harden'd hearts, enur'd to blood and cruelty.

So whilome learn'd that mighty Jewish swain,

Each of whose locks did match a man of might,

To lay his spoils before his leman's train: So also did the great Cetean knight, For his love's sake, his lion's skin undight: And so did warlike Antony neglect The world's whole rule, for Cleopatra's sight. Such wond'rous power has women's fair aspect,

To captive men, and make them all the world reject.

THE MARTYR'S CREST. LINES sent to a descendant of the mar tyred Bishop HOOPER, with a seal, upon which was engraven the Bishop's crest, a Lamb in a burning thicket, and the motto, Per ignes ad Cælum "Through the flames to Heaven."

BY J. EDMESTON.

'Tis a lovelier crest than the blood-stain'd blade,

Or the hand stretch'd out to slay ; Than the oak-twined wreath, or the laurel braid,

Or the bird or beast of prey:
It was prov'd by deeds more fofty far,
Than the shields of war and victory are!
'Twas nobly done-to fear not kings,
To dare their feeble ire;

To smile at all terrestrial stings,
The rack, the scourge, the fire;
Now to a cold damp dungeon driven,
Then, rapt in thought on things above,
Gazing upon a Saviour's love,
Pass through the flames to heaven!

Say, Aged Warrior, when thy breath
Was struggling with the grasp of death,
When every tortured nerve was rending,
And death with life,
In bitter strife

And agony, contending,

Far from the weak consuming clay?
Wert thou not borne in soul away,
And o'er thy calm unruffled soul
Did not celestial visions roll?
The Martyr's stake is strewn with flowers,
And earthly and infernal powers
May try their little force in vain,
To plant a thorn, or cause a pain!

To dungeon cells and martyry;
"Tis true we are not call'd, like thee,
But yet the Spirit is not dead,
Through whom the saints of Jesus bled;
For though 'tis bound with many a chain,
It would resist to blood again.

And now perhaps a surer snare
The stake, and all the terrors there;
For spirits, that might even dare

The deep laid sophism of the school,
The curling lip of ridicule,
And taunt of sceptics bear :-

Yet, rapt in thought on things above,
Gazing upon a Saviour's love,
We still may firm endure;
Though smiles or frowns contend the way,
Despise-defy them all-and say,
Your worst, my hold is sure!"

66

London:- Printed By G. Larrance, Borset Street, Salisbury Square; And Published by the Proprietor at No. 8, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, where all Com munications are requested to be addressed, and where the Editor's Letter-box will be found.-It may also be had at 42, Holywell Street; of SHERWOOD, NEELT, AND JONES, Paternoster Row; SIMPKIN & MARSHALE, Stationer's Court; and of all Other Booksellers.

THE

TICKLER MAGAZINE.

No. 11. VOL. III.]

Anecdotes.

LONDON, NOVEMBER 1, 1821.

DEXTEROUS FENCING.---"To show the dexterity of the regicides at fencing, it is related, that while at Boston, a fencing-master had a stage erected, on which he walked for several days, challenging and defying any one to play with him at swords. At length, one of the regicides made his appearance, disguised in a rustic dress, holding in one hand a cheese wrapped in a napkin for a shield, with a broom-stick, whose mop he had besmeared with dirty puddle water as he passed along; thus equipped, he mounted the stage; the fencing-master railed at him for his impudence, asked what business he had there, and bade him begone. The regicide took his ground, upon which the gladiator made a pass at him with his sword, to drive him off; a recounter ensued: the regicide received the sword into the cheese, and held it till he drew the mop of the broom over his mouth, and gave the gentleman a pair of whiskers. The gentleman made another pass, and plunging his sword a second time, it was caught and held in the cheese, till the broom was drawn over his eyes. At a third plunge, the sword was caught again, till the mop of the broom was rubbed gently all over his face; upon this, the gentleman let fall, or laid aside, his small sword, and took up the broad sword, and came at him with that: upon which the regicide said, "Stop, sir; hitherto, you see, I have only played with you, and not attempted to hurt you; but if you come at me now with the broad sword, know that I will certainly take your life." The firmness and determination with which he spake,

[PRICE 6d.

struck the gentleman, who, desisting, exclaimed, Who can you be? You are either Goffe, Whalley, or the Devil, for there was no other man in England that could beat me.' And so the disguised regicide retired into obscurity, leaving the spectators to enjoy the diversion of the scene, and the vanquishment of the boasting champion. Hence it is proverbial in some parts ofNew England,in speaking of a champion at athletic and other exercises, to say, that "none can beat him but Goffe, Whalley, or the Devil."

FOOTE'S MISTAKE.---Foote being at table, next to a gentleman who had helped himself to a very large piece of bread; he took it up, and cut a piece off; "Sir," said the gentleman, "that is my bread;" "I beg a thousand pardons Sir," said Foote, "I protest I took it for the loaf."

POPE.---Pope, who, whatever his other good qualities might be, certainly was not much troubled with good nature, was one evening at Burton's Coffee House, when he, and a set of Literati, were poring over a Manuscript of the Greek Comic Poet, Aristophanes, in which they found a passage they could not comprehend. As they talked pretty loudly, a young man who stood by the fire heard their conference, and begged that he might be permitted to look at the passage. "O!" said Pope, sarcastically, "by all means, pray let the young gentleman look at it ;" on which he took up the book, and, considering awhile, said, that there only wanted a note of interrogation, to render the whole intelligible, which was really the case:

GG

"And pray, master," said Pope, piqued
perhaps at being out-done, "what is a
note of interrogation?" "A note of in-
terrogation," replied the youth, with a
look of the utmost contempt,
it is a
little crooked thing, that asks questions!"
It is said, however, that Pope was so
delighted with this witticism, that he for-
gave the sarcasm on his person.

66

THE INSANE ORGANIST.--At Worcester there was an ideot, who was employed at the Cathedral there, in blowing the Organ. A remarkably fine anthem being performed one day, the Organblower, when all was over, said, "I think we have performed mighty well to day." "We performed!" answered the Organist; "I think 'twas I performed, or I am much mistaken." Shortly after, another celebrated piece of music was to be played; in the middle of the anthem, the Organ stopped all at once. The Organist cries out in a passion, "Why don't you blow?" The fellow then popped out his head from behind the Organ, and said, "shall it be we then."

DEAN SWIFT's HERRING DINNER. ---A lady invited Dean Swift to dinner, and as she had heard he was not easily pleased, she had taken care to provide in profusion every delicacy which could be procured. The Dean was scarcely seated, before the lady began a ceremonious harangue, expressing much grief that she had not a more tolerable dinner, fearing exceedingly there was not any thing fit for him to eat; "Hang you," said the Dean, "why did you not provide a better? certainly you have had time enough; but since you say it is so bad, I'll e'en go home and eat a herring;" and he accordingly departed, in violent haste.

LADY WALLACE'S D. I. O.--- The D. I. O. of Lady Wallace was a joke in circulation some time ago at Bath. A silly custom took place among the affected people of fashion, who frequented that place, of using initials in their cards, instead of intelligible words. The card left on taking leave of the place was P. P. C., which turned into language,

was Pour Prendre Conge. A plain Englishman, to ridicule this affectation, left a card at every house where he had visited, with the letters D. I. O.; which engaged the curiosity and exercised the penetration of the tabbies of the tea table for a week, when the gentleman, in a letter to a friend, condescended to tellt hem it's meaning, viz.---Damme, I'm Of

Biography.

--

David

THE STAGE-ROSCIUS. Garrick (called the English Roscius) was son of Captain Peter Garrick. His mother's maiden name was Arabella Clough. She was the daughter of one of the Vicars of Litchfield Cathedral. His father was a Military Captain, and being on a recruiting party at Hereford, in February, 1716, (he was accompanied by his wife, who was big with child), they stopped at an inn in that city, and here our immortal actor first drew the vital air. He was baptized on the 20th of February, at the Church of All Saints, at Hereford. Dr. Johnson, in his youth, kept a school, and had but few pupils, one was Garrick; he was intended for the law, and studied for some time in Lincoln's Inn. He first appeared as an actor at Ipswich, under the name of Lyddel, and in London at Gifford's Theatre, in Gratain-street, Goodman'sfields, October 19, 1741, as Richard the Third.--(This Theatre was burnt down in 1802.)-In 1749 he married Mademoiselle Eve Maria Violetti, an Italian Stage Dancer; this lady, I believe, is still living, aged about 100. He retired from the Stage, June 10, 1776, at Drury-lane, after having performed Don Felix, in Mr. Cawthorn's "Wonder; a Woman keeps a Secret." He died of a palsy in his kidnies, at his house, No. 5, Adelphi Terrace, January 20, 1779, and was buried at Westminster-abbey, where he has an elegant monument. On the evening HIS FAREWELL.of June 10, 1776, the Play being ended, the awful crisis approached, when the town was to see their favourite Roscius no more. The scene of his taking leave was beyond description distressing. Let the reader conceive this universal favorite,

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impressed with all those feelings his peculiar situation must call forth, advancing forwards to bid farewell to that Public to whom he owed so many obligations; after a short pause, which was necessary to enable him to recollect himself under his visible agitation of spirits, he addressed the audience thus: "Ladies and Gentlemen, it has been customary with persons under my circumstances to address you in a Farewell Epilogue. I had the same intention, and turned my thoughts that way, but found myself then as incapable of writing such an Epilogue as I should be now of speaking it. This is to me a very awful moment---it is no less than parting for ever with those from whom I have received the greatest kindness and favours, and upon that spot where that kindness and those favours were enjoyed.---(Here for a moment he was unable to proceed, until relieved by a flood of tears.)---Whatever may be the changes of my future life, the deep impression I have of your kindness will always remain here--(putting his hand to his breast) fixed and unalterable. I will very readily agree to my successors having more skill and ability for their station than I have, but I defy them all to take more sincere and uninterrupted pains for your favour, or to be more truly sensible of it, than is your most obedient and grateful humble servant,"Here he retired amidst the blended tears and acclamations of the most brilliant audience that ever was assembled." HISEPITAPH at WESTMINSTER ABBEY. To the Memory of David Garrick, who died in the Year 1779, at the age of 63.

To paint fair Nature by divine command,
Her magic pencil in his glowing hand,
A Shakspeare rose, and then, t' expand his

fame

Wide o'er this breathing world, a Garrick

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Blunders.

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The

A GENUINE IRISH BULL.porter of a Dublin grocer was brought up by his master on a charge of stealing chocolate, which he could not deny. Upon being asked to whom he sold it, the pride of Patrick was greatly wounded. "To whom did I sell it," says Pat, "why does he think I took it to sell?" "Then, Sir," said the Magistrate, "what did you do with it?" "Do with it! rejoined the culprit, extremely offended with his Worship for persisting in his insulting suspicions; " since you must know," said he, "we made tea of it!"

UNDER the head of the Police Report of a daily Journal in 1794, was contained the following blunder :---" On the prisoner becoming very refractory, and swearing he would not be taken, the officers were obliged, for their own personal safety, to handcuff his legs."

A CERTAIN gentleman, who had been most highly commending in company the prudent measures his Majesty's ministers had at all times adopted, was observed to be as silent, as he was before vehement, when the subject of the "Queen's Persecutions" was introduced into conversation. Upon which, another gentleman rose up and exclaimed, "hear him, hear him, how silent he is now."

AN Irish labourer, whilst erecting a ladder, had the misfortune to break a very valuable window of stained glass. The master of the house came out in a great rage, and threatened to charge his employer with the expence. "Indeed, Sir," said the Irishman, " you must confess I have done you a deal of goodthis quarter, thank the blessed Virgin Mary, you will not have to pay for so many window lights!"

THE following Notice was lately given out by the Clerk of a Country Parish Church: "This is to give notice, that

1

if those persons, who have not yet paid their tythes, do not discharge them before Tuesday next, they will be executed!” On an enquiry being made into this so singular a mistake, it was ascertained, that the Clerk, unable to pronounce "exchequered," had used the word "executed," which he imagined was a synonymous term to exchequer.

A FARRIER in the country lately made out a bill to a Farmer who had employed him, and whose Christian name was Jacob. It would puzzle some people, perhaps, more learned than the farrier, to endeavour to put five letters together, none of which are in the word Jacob, and make it sound so well as Gekup, which was the way the doctor (as such persons are called sometimes in the country) spelt it.

Bón Mots.

WHEN Voltaire's tragedy of Herod and Mariamne was brought out, the character of Varus was acted by a very ugly performer. His Confident says to him,

You are troubled, Sir; you change countenance?"---For God's sake, let him change it!" cried a wag from the pit.

THE French Poet Roy, dying a good Catholic, on his death-bed accused himself bitterly of having written some loose operas; but never once seemed to regret his many base and malignant actions. His Confessor, wishing to tranquilize his mind on the subject of his writings, assured him that all was forgotten. The penitent exclaimed, with great compunction, "Oh no! They are too fine ever to be forgotten."

LORD DENBIGH, on his approaching marriage with a fortune, was asked by Lord Gower how long the honey-moon would last?" Don't tell me of the honey moon," he answered: "it is harvestmoon with me!"

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A GENTLEMAN of very fickle disposition made so many changes in a mansion which he was erecting, and asked the advice of his friends so frequently about the arrangements, that it seemed a miracle that it was ever finished at all. At length, however, it was completed, and nothing but the giving it a name remained to be done: this was a sore puzzle, till a witty counsellor told him if he wanted an appropriate appellation he would give it him. What is it? The House of Correction.

A COUNTRY Carpenter in his wisdom, nailing up a board to forbid vagrants from tresspassing, fastened it with the inscription upside down: beggars are accumstomed to reverses," said a gentleman when he saw it.

A SHOP-KEEPER at Doncaster, had for his virtues obtained the name of the “little rascal." A stranger asked why this appellation had been given him? "To distinguish me from the rest of my trade," quoth he, "who are all great rascals!"

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