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As fast in Paternoster Row,

The double-quick of glory!

Dear Public-that half guineas dropt a few

The book drops its half-guinea now for you!

Nor will the poet frown,

Nor angry blame,

If when deprived of money's double crown
He's but half crown'd by fame!

Poor Aubry's drawings-they were but the last
Light lingering touches of a spirit past.
He is no more—they wear their frolic whim,

To tell what Art and Humour lost in him!

By war's adventure—or my mind misgives,
Lieutenant Cotton now a Captain lives,

R.A.-tho' not elected for this funnery,

But, or for engineering or for gunnery,

Elseway R.A.-by dint of Ordnance drillery,
And Royal in the sense of the ARTILLERY.

If I create him a Gun Cotton so,

Amen! Gun Cotton now is all the go!

And I've no doubt, without a word of scoff,

Will make the "NEW TALE OF A TUB" go off!

I see the Tale

Pack'd in a Bale

The Tiger charged-the Barrel well ramm'd down, And ready to explode for HALF-A-CROWN.


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