Engraving

"No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear,
Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier:
By harlots' hands thy dying eyes were clos'd;
By harlots' hands thy decent limbs compos'd;
By harlots' hands thy humble grave adorn'd;
By harlots honour'd, and by harlots mourn'd."
The poet's adage, All the world's a stage,
Has stood the test of each revolving age;
Another simile perhaps will bear,
'Tis a Stage Coach, where all must pay the fare;
Where each his entrance and his exit makes,

In the two following designs, Mr. Hogarth has displayed that partiality for his own country and contempt for France, which formed a strong trait in his character. He neither forgot nor forgave the insults he suffered at Calais, though he did not recollect that this treatment originated in his own ill humour, which threw a sombre shade over every object that presented itself. Having early imbibed the vulgar prejudice that one Englishman was a match for four Frenchmen, he thought it would be doing his country a service to prove the position.

"New to the school of hard mishap,
Driven from the ease of fortune's lap.
What schemes will nature not embrace
T' avoid less shame of drear distress?
Gold can the charms of youth bestow,
And mask deformity with shew:
"No wonder that science, and learning profound,
In Oxford and Cambridge so greatly abound,
When so many take thither a little each day,
And we see very few who bring any away."

As our future welfare depends, in a great measure, on our own conduct in the outset of life, and as we derive our best expectations of success from our own attention and exertion, it may, with propriety, be asserted, that the good or ill-fortune of mankind is chiefly attributable to their own early diligence or sloth; either of which becomes, through habit in the early part of life, both familiar and natural. This Mr.

With lantern jaws and croaking gut,
See how the half-star'd Frenchmen strut,
And call us English dogs:
But soon we'll teach these bragging foes
That beef and beer give heavier blows
Than soup and roasted frogs.
The priests, inflam'd with righteous hopes,
Prepare their axes, wheels, and ropes,
"Gold, thou bright son of Phœbus, source
Of universal intercourse;
Of weeping Virtue soft redress:
And blessing those who live to bless:
Yet oft behold this sacred trust,
The tool of avaricious lust;
No longer bond of human kind,
But bane of every virtuous mind.
What chaos such misuse attends,
"O cara, cara! silence all that train,
Joy to great chaos! let division reign."

"The drunkard shall come to poverty, and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags."
Proverbs, chap. xxiii. verse 21.

"The hand of the diligent maketh rich."—Proverbs, chap. x. verse 4.

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