and gnash her teeth constantly, morning and evening, at the Tabernacle at Moorfields; and as soon as I found she had the siller, aha! guid traith, I plumped me down upon my knees, close by her cheek by jowl- and prayed, and sighed, and sung, and groaned, and gnashed my teeth as vehemently as she could do for the life of her; ay, and turned up the whites of mine een, till the strings awmost cracked again. I watched her motions, handed her till her chair, waited on her home, got most relig iously intimate with her in a week - married her in a fortnight, buried her in a month-touched the siller, and with a deep suit of mourning, a melancholy port, a sorrowful visage, and a joyful heart, I began the world again; and this, sir, was the first boothat is, the first effectual boo-I ever made till the vanity of human nature. [Rises.] - Now, sir, do you understand this doctrine?

Eger. Perfectly well, sir.

Sir P. Ay, but was it not right? was it not ingenious, and weel hit off?

Eger. Certainly, sir; extremely well.

Sir P. My next boo, sir, was till your ain mother, whom I ran away with fra the boarding-school; by the interest of whose family I got a guid smart place in the Treasury; and, sir, my very next step was intill Parliament; the which I entered with as ardent and determined an ambition as ever agitated the heart of Cæsar himself. Sir, I booed, and watched, and hearkened, and ran aboot, backwards and forwards, and attended and dangled upon the then great mon, till I got intill the vary bowels of his confidence, and then, sir, I wriggled and wrought, and wriggled, till I wriggled myself among the vary thick of them; ha! I got my snack of the clothing, the foraging, the contracts, the lottery. tickets, and aw the political bonuses; till at length, sir, I became a much wealthier mon than one-half of the golden calves I had been so long a-booing to; and was nae that booing to some purpose? Eger. It was, indeed, sir.

Sir P. But are you convinced of the guid effects and the utility of booing?

Eger. Thoroughly.

Sir P. Sir, it is infallible.

Charles Macklin.

RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY

'T was a Duke's fair orphan girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl, Who betrothed her, twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold, To his son, Lord Leigh, the churl.

But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood, Unto both those lords of Leigh spake she out right sovranly, "My will runneth as my blood,

"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said,

""T is my will as lady free, not to wed a Lord of Leigh,

But Sir Guy of Linteged."

The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for willful youth — Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small

For so large a will in sooth."

She, too, smiled by that same sign, but her smile was cold and

fine;

Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold Of thy son, good uncle mine!"

Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth,

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He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,

Let the life come or the death."

Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise, "Thy hound's blood, my lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she,

And he moans not where he lies.

"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward! By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,

I deny you wife and ward."

Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread. Ere the midnight bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest Blessed her, bride of Linteged.

Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain; Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf,

In the pauses of the rain.

Fast and fain the kinsman's train along the storm pursued amain Steed on steed-track, dashing off, thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,

In the pauses of the rain.

And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might, And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm, Smiling out into the night.

"Dost thou fear?" he said at last. "Nay," she answered him in

haste;

"Not such death as we could find,

only life with one behind Ride on fast as fear ride fast!"

Up the mountain wheeled the steed-girth to ground, and fetlocks spread

Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks down he staggered, down the banks,

To the towers of Linteged.

High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about; In the courtyard rose the cry, "Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!" But she never heard them shout.

On the steed she dropt her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck

"I had happier died by thee, than lived on a Lady Leigh," Were the first words she did speak.

But a three months' joyance lay 'twixt that moment and to-day,
When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall,
To recapture Duchess May.

And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back;
And a fortnight's siege is done, and, except the Duchess, none
Can misdoubt the coming wrack.

One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!

Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all, Guide him up the turret stair.

"Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height! Once in love and twice in war hath he borne me strong and far, He shall bear me far tonight."

They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear, Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors;

But they goad him up the stair.

Then from out her bower-chambère did the Duchess May repair. "Tell me, now, what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed, That ye goad him up the stair?"

Calm she stood! unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe,

And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass,

Had not time enough to go.

"Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday

One-half hour completes the breach, and thy lord grows wild of speech;

Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray!"

"In the east tower, high'st of all, loud he cries for steed from stall.

He would ride as far," quoth he, "as for love and victory,

Though he ride the castle wall."

"And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall. Wifely prayer meets deathly need! may the sweet heavens hear thee plead,

If he rides the castle wall."

Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor,
And tear after tear you heard fall distinct as any word
Which you might be listening for.

"Get thee in, thou soft ladie! here is never a place for thee! Braid thy hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan May find grace with Leigh of Leigh."

She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face, Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering seems to look

Right against the thunder-place.

And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside

Go to, faithful friends, go to! Judge no more what ladies do, No, nor how their lords may ride!"

Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke;

Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair, For the love of her sweet look.

Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair aroundOh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading, Did he follow, meek as hound.

On the east tower, high'st of all, there, where never a hoof did fall

Out they swept, a vision steady-noble steed and lovely lady, Calm as if in bower or stall!

Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently; And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes

Which he could not bear to see.