DEAR POLL,

                I next on Lawyers and Doctors will write,
For in Lawyers and Doctors I ever delight;
Though I hate Pettifoggers, and Medical Quacks,
As I hate to be drawn on a journey by hacks;—
'Gainst Quacks, 'twould be wise in the Parliament House,
A Bill to bring in, their vile arts for to chouse;

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Page 10

And 'gainst Pettifoggers, the same remedy would,
In our nation of England, do a vast deal of good.
On Dr. E——y, fam'd Quack, I first will begin,
Whose Father is Death, and his Mother foul Sin;—
He was sent by his Sire to quick people his realm,
And the children of mortals with woes overwhelm;
Humanity shudders, when she sees but his name
Chalk'd on walls;—made vehicles for infamous fame;—
His Brothers in vice, are the J—d—ns and C—m—n,
Whom in justice Jack Ketch ought to put a night-cap on,
The world for to rid of such miserable elves,
Who poor mortals kill, to get pence for themselves.
O Britons for shame, to encourage such sinners!
Those who do, I much fear, wo'nt long need good dinners;
But food for the worms they soon will become,
Whilst they will enjoy their Wine, Brandy and Rum;
And in Chorus Bacchanalia, these lines will roar out,
Whilst merrily they push their strong Grog about:—

        Come Death,—come Sin,—and join with we,
        Whilst we sing and dance with glee;—

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Page 11

        Mortals bane,—end join'd with thee,
        J—d—ns, C—m—n, E——y.

        Let sculls a circle round us be,—
        Of mortals murder'd sent to thee;
        Father, Mother, dance with glee,
        Rejoice, your Son is Dr. E——y.

        In lieu of gas fine fat you see,
        Burning bright and merrily;
        For goblets,—dead sculls have we,
        Drink, and with us merry be.

FROM POLL CURIOUS IN THE COUNTRY, TO MRS.
BEVERLEY IN TOWN.
DEAR BETSEY,

    Your letters I've read,
Truth glows in every line,
    I've noted each word you have said,
In this little wild noddle of mine.

O spare not the Ranters or Quacks,
    The good will applaud your design,
Lash on, and spare not their backs,
    I'd treat 'em as if they were swine.

Your Letters to Father I've shewn,
    Delighted he was to be sure,
That such rascally Quacks were all blown,
    Although they do look so demure.

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Page 16

I long for to come up to town,
    To see all its wonderous sights;
I long, too, for you to come down,
    To cheer up we poor dismal wights.

In kindness, I pray you will write
    As often as ever you can,
'Twill cheer, in the long winter's night,
Me, and my dear father, good man.

Adieu, my dear Bet, for this time,
    I sigh for some more of your rhyme;—
If you don't send it soon, will be furious,
    Your little Old Friend,

POLLY CURIOUS.

MY DEAR POLLY CURIOUS,

                    Once more I take pen,
To drag great and petty rogues out of their den,
And to praise merit wherever it is due,
Let it be a Stockbroker, Quaker, or Jew;—

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Page 18

From the frowns of the vicious I never will flinch,
And if conscience they have, I'll give it a pinch.

First let us consider now, as the world goes,
If 'tis not meritorious to combat our foes,
If they, like assassins, will stab in the dark,
Our duty compels us to make them a mark;—
For assassin-like foes, I surely don't want,
Some Stagers there are, and others that Rant,—
Vile Ranters, who boast, the Gospel they follow,
Yet both head and heart of a Ranter is hollow;
And if they had power, they'd shut out of Heaven
All those, with themselves not of the same leaven;
Hypocrites base, who search both sea and land,
For to make proselytes with them to stand;
But, after they've made 'em,—these children of evil,
Have only just made 'em more fit for the D——l.
And yet these vile sinners, will impudent say,
That players are d——d, as sure as the day,—
And not only players, but all those who go
To a play-house, or just to peep at a show;
Now they're like the men, who are mention'd in Job,
Who think none but themselves can wear wisdom's robe;
They part with their money as if it was blood,
A Ranter is seldom e'er known to do good.

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Page 19

They scandalize, backbite, and raise up false news,
And are in all points much worse than the Jews;—
The Jews,∗ (aye, the Jews,) I've oft touch'd their pelf,
Love merit, and talent, as each loves himself.
For Ranters and hypocrites I care not a rush,
The good Infidel Jews put them all to the blush:—
So Ranters stab on, I've a pen yet to wield,
And a good conscience will prove a very good shield.
My Stage-foes are low, and contemptible things,
Who grimace call acting, and squallingly sings,
They have a show-booth, its not far from the town,
But for their concern I'd scarce give 'em a crown;
Contempt for their despicable meanness is best,
So let them look to it,—and think themselves blest,
For, were I to write of them all I do know,
I'faith they might very soon shut up their show;
But two of a trade, they say, seldom agree,
I think it is true, as I'm nam'd Beverley.
In this place,—to you, dear Poll, be it known,
I have no relations of my name in town;

[Note *:]

I believe it is well known amongst professional people, that the Jews are great encouragers of whatever tends to the elegancies and amusements of life;—the theatres in town are greatly indebted to them.

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Page 20

I think it is proper thus much for to state,
As I've oft been insulted, and that too, of late,
By people mistaking me quite for another,
To my feelings be sure it caus'd a great pother.
Whate'er my own sins, I must bear as I may,
But I wish not to carry another's away;
A scape goat for others, I ought not to be,
With me, my dear Girl, I think all will agree:
By your Letter before me, you wish me to say,
What churches I visit on each Sabbath-day,
What I think of their preachers, and many things more,
That of news you may get a plentiful store:—
For eloquence and piety, I ever am hunting,
And of course go to hear the good Jabez Bunting,∗
His style it is elegant, correct, and quite chaste,
He's a preacher, I'm sure, would well suit your taste,
For the Gospel he preaches as Christ laid it down,
I wish that all preachers were like him in town.
To hear Dr. Rudge,† I'd go many a mile,
Tho' his eloquence fail'd in converting Carlile;

[Note *:]

Mr. Bunting belongs to the methodist connexion, and what I have said of him is but barely the truth.

[Note †:]

The Rev. Dr. Rudge I first heard at Guildhall Church, in the city, and frequently afterwards at St. Sepulchre's, at the top of Snow-hill, Holborn, I believe the learned Divine is also Rector of Limehouse. As I have brought his name in collision with Mr. Carlile's, the bookseller, it may be proper to state, that he did all in his power, by an epistolary correspondence with him to bring him into a right way of thinking on theological subjects; but it appears without Dr. R. having in the least succeeded.

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Page 21

His voice is sonorous,—devoid of all rant,
And his preaching impressive, without any cant.
Both Gurney∗ and Saunders,† are earnest in preaching,
Of late tho', I havn't had much of their teaching:—
The Revd. T. Dibden's‡ a complete Cicero,
When you come up to town, to hear him, pray go;

[Note *:]

The Rev. Mr. Gurney is what is called a Gospel preacher,—he is Rector of St. Clement's Danes, in the Strand. I regret very much that I have not had more opportunities of profiting from his instructions, but I always found (the church being so full,) a difficulty in procuring a seat.

[Note †:]

The Rev. Mr. Saunders is a good preacher; I have frequently attended when he performed service in the Broad Way Church, Westminster.

[Note ‡:]

The Rev. T. Dibden, formerly of King Street Chapel, Golden Square; where he preaches now I do not know. I have heard that he has taken his degree of Doctor of Divinity; I sincerely wish him a Bishopric.

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Page 22

The Litany and prayers he readeth so well,
As cannot be beat by Smart or Thellwall;
Of myself I say little, as you very well know,
It would not be decent self-praise to bestow;
But this others do say, and deny it who can,
That in reading the prayers, I need yield to no man.
Some clergymen, dear, though they've been at College,
Of true elocution have not the least knowledge;
Though of Latin and Greek they know every rule,
They good reading to learn, should again go to school;
What's their Greek worth, when they preach to the people,
Who understand Greek just as much as the steeple;
Let them learn to speak well in their own mother tongue,
And I'll warrant to hear 'em, the people will throng;
I wish them all well from the core of my heart,
But in reading would have them to equal Smart:—
Elocution no longer should neglected be,
Be it known, I give lessons for a very small fee,
Guineas Two for Twelve Lessons, if taught at my home,
But Three, when to Pupils I ever do roam.—
The Church I'll now leave, and t' the Senate away
To tell you what eloquence there they display.

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Page 23

There's many good speakers in the Parliament House,
As Brougham, Burdett, Canning, Tierney, Hobhouse,
Scarlett, Copley, Althorpe, Lord Russell, and Hume,
Though the latter is e'er in a terrible fume;
He says that the nation's in a very bad way,
As its debts won't be paid till the great judgment-day;
But as politics won't do in my Letter's sing-song,
I leave others to judge whether he's right or wrong:
Few men have more talent, who are plac'd in that House,
Than the Member for Westminster, John Cam Hobhouse;
Burdett has a voice, which like music doth sway
Our passions,—and carries our judgment away;
From Canning and Brougham what eloquence flow,
It can't be describ'd, though it charms the heart so;
Copley is eloquent, and an excellent Judge,
A Lawyer as good, as a Divine, Dr. Rudge;
Then Scarlett to hear, I could a week linger,
Who e'er and anon with grace shakes his finger;∗ —
Amongst the best orators, Peel must be plac'd,
He's with eloquence and a good person grac'd,

[Note *:]

Whoever has had the pleasure of seeing the learned and eloquent gentleman plead, must have observed this peculiarity in his gesture.

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Page 24

His heart it is fair as the best morn in May,
And talent ne'er empty from him went away;
Sir Robert Wilson, Aldermen Waithman and Wood,
Are true honest men, and will do us all good;
Waithman and Wood, dear, sit for fam'd London City,
Know Wood is good looking, and Waithman is witty,
Alike are their politics, I've heard the Cits say,
So of course they are constantly pulling one way;—
Sir Robert Wilson is a brave valiant Knight,
Witness his aiding M. D. Lavallette in flight
From the power of those, who a little before,
Had pauperising been on Britain's fair shore;—
For Southwark, just over the Bridge, he's a Member,
Re-elected, I think, in the month of September.—
In the Lords,—I've found men, at which you may wonder,
Like fam'd Demosthenes can in eloquence thunder;
Nor for Ciceros want they, with speech soft and bland,
Which sure cannot fail our applause to commend;
The great Erskine's no more; but there's Grey, Holland, King,
Liverpool and Ellenborough, with pleasure I sing,
Somerville, and the Lord Chancellor Eldon likewise,
Are eloquent men, and as such I them prize;

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Page 25

Yet Lords there are many,—Right Honourable mutes,
Who have just as much sense as some of their brutes;
The King may confer titles, but with all his pains,
When a Lord he has made, he can't give him brains;
If he could,—what a scramble, and eager, demand
For brains would there be 'mongst some Lords of the land.
As the King I have mention'd, I have thus to say,
I saw him this evening set out for the play,
But so guarded was he, both behind and before,
(Of horse soldiers, I dare say, there were nearly threescore,)
That had I not known 'twas the King going in state,
I'd have thought some great culprit would soon meet his fate,
His being so guarded, and driving so furious,
Brought this thought to my mind, my Dear Polly Curious;
But some Gents standing by, said 'twas proper and fit!
So I hasten'd away, and squeez'd into the pit:—
Good Lord! how I pitied our glorious great King,
When the people stood up, and made the house ring

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Page 26

With 'God save the King!' 'till I was quite in a dread,
That the noise would for certain quite craze his dear head;∗
But he bore it with courage, and made many a bow,
In the hope, I dare say, to quell such a great row;—
Though his head it might hurt,—his heart it did good,
For applause, to the heart, is most excellent food;
I guess'd that he felt it so, in his Royal breast,
As his hands for the evening had very small rest,
For he 'plauded the actors, who did their parts well,
In encoring, his voice was as sound as a bell:—
The play being o'er, he left, with guards as before,
And the audience for certain forgot not to roar,
God bless you, great George! With their hats wav'd in air,
Some, no doubt, caught a cold, by their heads being bare:—
Then I hasted quick home, and, thank God, here I be,
Good night, dearest Poll, from your's,

E. BEVERLEY.

[Note *:]

I cannot help thinking that, however gratifying to His Majesty's Royal Heart the applause of his loyal subjects may be, that the practice of the long-continued rounds of applause when he visits a theatre, must be very annoying to him.— If His Majesty's Royal head is not made of different materials from mine, I am certain it must have ached most tremendously.

DEAR POLLY,

                Do you think I have nought else to do,
Than to be everlastingly scribbling to you;
Now I'd have you to know, since my last which I wrote,
I've been pamphlet selling to some folks of note,—
Lords, Ladies, Lawyers, Stockbrokers, Hop-merchants, Jews,
Officers of Customs, Ordnance, Dealers in News,

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Page 28

Bankers, Tobacconists, Hosiers, Hatters, Tailors,
Soldiers, Stationers, Preachers, Quakers, Sailors,
And a great many more, whose names I can't rhyme,
So Poll you now see, I've not wasted my time;
But as Curious you are, I now mean to tell,
Of those who are kind, and e'er uses me well.

The Hop-merchant's first claim a place in my lay,
They've hearts which are good, and open as day;
And when I call on them, they always are willing,
With cheer and good-humour to put down their shilling;
I wish them all happy when Death their breath stops,
But, whilst they have Life, gold as plenty as hops.

The Stockbrokers too, whether Stocks rise or fall,
Are always quite ready at Mrs. Beverley's call;
They are not like the Ranters with trumpet or drum,
E'er sounding before them the good they have done;
I wish them all comfort, wealth, and long life,
That their days may pass happy, devoid of all strife;
On 'Change I am sure ne'er to meet with a frown,
Each man of 'em sooner would put down a crown.

Screws are some Pastry-cooks,—and likewise some Bakers,
But I've many a Friend amongst the dear Quakers

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Page 29

You may think it is strange, but it's true what I say,
When I ask them to buy, they seldom say Nay.

From the Customs and Excise, with pleasure I say,
They ne'er let me go empty-handed away;—
They've liberal hearts, and always are kind,
And often, God bless 'em, my purse they've well lin'd
With silver and gold,—then bade me God speed,
Good friends I e'er found 'em in time of my need.

Of Gents of the Ordnance, I'll just a word whisper,
When them I forget,—why—may my tongue blister;
They're good hearty fellows, with pleasure do buy,
In loosing their purse-strings, not one of them's shy.

At the India House and Banks, I'm e'er sure to find
Gentlemen who are generous, feeling, and kind;—
I always wait on 'em when a new work I print,
Likewise the kind souls, who are at the Royal Mint.

The good Gents of the Law, when them e'er I see,
For my Book always pays me an excellent fee;
"Ne cede Malis," they kindly do say,
"For that night is long, which will ne'er see the day."

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Page 30

Pray'rs for their welfare I send oft up to Heaven,
From my heart, I am sure, they warmly are given.

At the Fire-offices, and the Assurance for Lives,
My suit for their patronage always well thrives.
The Law-stationers too, are my very good friends;
The Chemists and Druggists their assistance too lends;
To Solicitors, Attornies, and many beside,
My heart's grateful praise sure can ne'er be denied.

At Guildhall I have friends, and well there I fare,
'Mongst Aldermen,—and sometimes with a Lord Mayor:—
God bless their fam'd City, until the world's end,
Then I'm certain that merit will ne'er want a friend;
May it prosper for ever, and with pride lift its head,
And this tribute of praise be alive when I'm dead.

If you come up to town, and should go a-shopping,
At Romanis's, Poll, you may buy a good stocking;
He says, he hates Puffers, and would have 'em all shot,
Yet humourously Puffs in his windows each lot.

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Page 31

At Morrin's,∗ or Weakley's,† good linen you'll buy,
You'll sure go again,—if their goods you once try.
Now, if Bear's Grease you need, to Taylor's‡ then go,—
Or Mc Alpine's,§ who each keep a bear for to show,
Shut up in a cage, just the same as a rat,
And feed 'em like hogs, for the sake of their fat;
Beware of the spurious, it's not worth a button,
Instead of Bear's Grease,—some sell fat of mutton.

For Hair,—Rowland's Macassar has got a great name,
And Prince for his Russia Oil, has gained great fame.

If a Dentist you need for to set your teeth right,
Then to Parkinson go, or to Mr. Cartwright;
They're true men of honour,—are for skill much renown'd,
And better there can't be, if you search the world round.

[Note *:]

Linen-draper, corner of Gracechurch Street.

[Note †:]

Lives on Ludgate Hill.

[Note ‡:]

Taylor, Hair-dresser, Whitechapel.

[Note §:]

Mc Alpine, near the Bank of England.

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Page 32

There's Money in Fleet Street, fam'd for cutting of hair,
But few Artists in London can with him compare;
The Ladies and Gents to his house do all flock,
For of all sorts of Wigs he has e'er a good stock;
No longer with bald pate, man or woman need go,
If they Money engage his great skill to bestow.

As your writing I find you wish much to amend,
The advice I now give you is that of a friend,
Beware of all Puffers, who give themselves airs,
If you wish to write well, then apply to Carstairs.∗

If Scissors or Knives, you or friends want to buy,
Away to Machin's,† or a Gent nam'd Hawksley,‡
They sell what is good, and to please you wont miss;
They're not like the German hog, called W——s,
Who always is grunting, and in manners so rough,
That I wish on his ear I could give a good cuff.

[Note *:]

Mr. Carstairs, systematic Writing-master, No. 84, Lombard Street.

[Note †:]

Mr. Machin, Cutler, Leadenhall Street.

[Note ‡:]

Mr. Hawksley, Cutler, Strand.

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Page 33

If good Snuff you want for to make you well sneez-a,
Then to Boughey's∗ pray go, and buy his Princeza,
'Twill prove a good treat for your friends not in town,
So let me advise you to take some of it down.

If Beds, Bolsters, or Pillows you wish to send down,
Go to Walker's,† I'm sure there's not better in town;
At Barrowcliff's‡ also, you may quickly be suited
With Beds and good Bedsteads, that's plain or well fluted;
From his stock could be furnish'd a palace or cot,
He was never yet known for to sell a bad lot.

If your father, dear Girl, you would ease of his pain,
A dozen then send him of Wright's sparkling Champaigne;

[Note *:]

Mr. Boughey, Tobacconist, resides in Bishopgate Street. His Fine Princeza is a Snuff of incomparable flavour.

[Note †:]

Walker, Feather Bed-manufacturer, next door to the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill, Holborn.

[Note ‡:]

Mr. Barrowcliff's Establishment is in Regent Street, Piccadilly.

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Page 34

He lives down the Haymarket, in the Colonnade,
Charles Wright, I tell you, is a generous blade;
He vends the best Wines, as has lately been shown,
By an excellent lawyer, nam'd Sergeant Vaughan;∗
I'm certain the next time that way I do pass,
Charles Wright will not scruple to give me a glass.

Farewel, Dearest Poll, when this Letter you see,
Bear in mind what has said, your true Friend,

E.B.

FINIS

[Note *:]

Now Baron Vaughan.