Out-spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid, (Tremulous now, and sore afraid,) "Stand and Deliver, O 'BEAU Brocade'!" Firing then, out of sheer alarm, Hit the BEAU in the bridle-arm. Button the first went none knows where, But it carried away his solitaire; Button the second a circuit made, Glanced in under the shoulder blade; Down from the saddle fell "BEAU BROCADE"! Down from the saddle and never stirred! DOLLY grew white as a Windsor curd. Slipped not less from the mare, and bound Then, lest his Worship should rise and flee, Jumped on his chestnut, BET the fleet (Called after BET of Portugal Street); Came like the wind to the old Inn-door;- Vowed she 'd 'peach if he misbehaved Staines and Windsor were all on fire:- But whether His M-J-STY saw her or not, And something of DOLLY one still may trace GEORGE the Guard fled over the sea: Turned King's evidence, sad to state;- As for the BEAU, he was duly tried, Served-for a day-as the last of "sights," Went on his way to TYBURN Tree, Every privilege rank confers : : Bouquet of pinks at St. Sepulchre's ; Flagon of ale at Holborn Bar; Friends (in mourning) to follow his Car("t" is omitted where HEROES are!) Every one knows the speech he made; Waved to the crowd with his gold-laced hat; ... Turned to the Topsman undismayed And this is the Ballad that seemed to hide "Humbly Inscrib'd" (with curls and tails) By the Author to FREDERICK, Prince of WALES : "Published by FRANCIS and OLIVER PINE; Ludgate-Hill, at the Blackmoor Sign. Seventeen-Hundred-and-Thirty-Nine." UNE MARQUISE. A RHYMED MONOLOGUE IN THE LOUVRE. "Belle Marquise, vos beaux ycux me font mourir d'amour." Mute at every word you utter, Servants to your least frill flutter, MOLIÈRE. "Belle Marquise!” As you sit there growing prouder, And And your "beaux yeux" flash and glow ; Ah, you used them on the Painter, As you know, For the Sieur Larose spoke fainter, Bowing low, Thanked Madame and Heaven for Mercy That each sitter was not Circe, Or at least he told you so ; Growing proud, I say, and prouder Fickle Queen of Fop and Beau, Do we love you most or like you, "Belle Marquise !" II. You are fair; O yes, we know it Well, Marquise ; You were everything in ère You were "Reine," and "Mère d'Amour"; You were " Vénus à Cythère"; |