\ °P1 e? £ f \ \ \ \ \ ) > C=i i ^ S ) y \ / / ® \ f < H ► PLATE IL See here an emblem of a married life,. "When filthy lucre joins a man and wife: Each three times married, both expected riches; Both sides are cheated,—and thus fight for tlf br—dies. Disorder reigns!—all pleasure flies away;. Chagrin the night, and fury rules the day. At last he meets two friends, who testify’d He very fairly in a duel dy’d. Gripe, full to th’ throat, his grief in sighs burst Nor ever thought of his remaining store. For he by squeezing rich and poor, we find. Full thirty thousand still had left behind : But yet so hanker'd after what was gone, He must have that, or else he wou’d have none: For this lost sheep was such a fatal blow. He'd even fetch it, from the shades below. This was resolv’d—: Tears flow’d for loss of pelf; He hastens home, and there he hangs himself! Calm reason judge; give sentence if thou can, Which murder’d most the character of man! PLATE VII. He miss’d at first, but try’d again. Then clap’d his foot o’th’ chin; He pull’d—the patient roar’d with pain, And hideously did grin. But lot—capricious fortune frown’d, And broke the clewkin string, And threw him backwards on the ground. His head made floor to ring. ' PLATE VIII. An old wife next, with wrapt-up jaw. And her last tooth, did come: This tooth, thought he, I soon can draw, And gain some credit from. So he the pincers took in hand, And pull’d with might and main, But these slipp’d off, we understand. Which much increas’d the pain. \ This made the doctor cast about. And muse—in doleful dumps: If fast with large teeth drawing out. What must I do with stumps? He puzz’ling star’d ; next man, thought he, I’ll try the string again; The knack I’ve found most certainly To do’t with little pain. c Pub .. 7un* 4.18/0, by Scbdv Ormt, London . fhb.Jnne 0< by Edw. Oryne*Lon ds>n. PLATE XVI. w HAT various ways we difFrent mortals press, To that fam’d goal, the world calls happiness ! Some take ambition’s high and slipp’ry road; And some rich viands make their chiefest God. Some wine, some women ; some love cards and dice; Some think full bags all human bliss comprise. Some love retirement; some for pleasure roam, And some for books do starve themselves at home. But here old merry Kate, and Nan, and Bess,, Bind nearer ways to climb to happiness: Gin, punch and flip, are all their sole delight; They laugh at th’ world, and swear they’re only right. PLATE XVII. Here Yeddart with his little nose Doth envy Hodge his great one; As often poorest folks do those They have their cloaths and meat on. For envy like to vital air. Puns through all sorts of people : Through th’ pompous court and country bare, And lords of ev’ry steeple. COWTEWTMBWT. PLATE XXL .Behold ye worldlings whence true pleasure springs; Not from much wealth, or from the smiles of kings. A single bottle sets our minds at rest; ’Tis not full bags, contentment makes the feast* > . - ; - . - ' •• . . • • •. ... . . • . ■ ' V . ’ . • ‘ ‘ 7 ... • ■ ' • . - - ," . ^ V; .. .. ■ . - . -,A : •. • •• ■ ■ . . .' • v ■ . . ... ■; ■■■ • v ' . ... . ..- 'i / -i.-. . • • • •• ... '■ V ... 'i • ■ - ■ ' ■ - V - • ' ’ * ; • . , • . ' ‘ ' ' • - . ; . ••• * * '. . r V,. . ) ' ■. ■ > ' ■ . V , •’ '• r ‘\"'S • » V - *. ■ • ’ . . ‘ - . . . • ‘ • . .•> . . - . ... • • . T - , PLATE XXV. Together they totter about, “ Or sit in the sun at the door; «< And at night when old Darby's pots out* « His Joan will not smoke a whiff more.'* FINIS. HAYES, Piinter, Dartmout'r.-stieet, Wesminster ' fC6u c t (Ek. I T.BOBBIF esq? Tub. June A1810. by' Kdw fyrmc London. PLATE VI. A Doctor once much puzzl’d was To find out ways and means How teeth to draw of ev’ry class Without such wracking pains. A packthread strong he ty’d in haste On tooth, which sore did wring; He pull’d, the patient follow’d fast. Like Towzerin a string. / JLAFGHTJBM. Sc EXFIBMIMIE^T TLATE XIV, and XV. FOUR statesmen here, all plac’d and pension’d sit, Have drown’d all care, and murder’d patriot wit; Their bellies fill’d with wine, their chests with gold. Squeez’d from a nation which they’ve bought and sold. No conscience pricks ;—no dread of public wrath ;— They rob like Orford, or an earl of Bath ! A groaning nation breaks no silken ease. And only study how 1—d B—te to please : Thus warm’d within the down of regal wing, Whilst England mourns, her statesmen laugh and sing. O Britain’s guardian, when wilt thou awake, And on such vipers deadly vengeance take ? M .'M INTEMPERANCE & EMMCIUILE ?ubJu*4 4 idlQbylSdw*Omie.,Zsoruion V PLATE XXII. Now poor old Toby knows the worst. For lo ! his suit he’s gain’d : Yet with a client’s luck he’s curst, For all his cash is drain’d. His garden, with his cot he’s sold. To pay the lawyer’s fees: So Toby and his doxy old. Must want their ale and cheese. ' . . I -- THE PASSIONS, HUMOUROUSLY DELINEATED, BY TIMOTHY BOBBIN, Esq. Author of the Lancashire Dialect: CONTAINING TWENTY-FIVE PLATES, WITH HIS PORTRAIT, TITLE PLATE, AND POETICAL DESCRIPTIONS. Eonfcon: Printed for EDWARD ORME, Printseller to the King, Engraver and Publisher, EONfl STREET, CORNER OF BROOK STREET; 1810: By J. HAYES, Dartmouth Street, Westminster, t Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Getty Research Institute \ https://archive.org/details/passionshumourouOObobb Time on his wings brings the appointed day, On which his lordship doth the visit pay; Who in his Docket takes the feigned deeds, i o 7 Besides the thousand which his project needs. The usual compliments no sooner past, My lord, in bustle, seem'd to be in haste : Come, Mr. Screwby—come, the writings soon. And let me see, if honesty be done. Old Screwby then lays down the mortgage deeds; His lordship damns each article he reads, And throws them down :—old Screwby all aghast. Clearing his weasand, thus broke out at last. My lord, there’s no man—no man, on my word, Will lend his cash;—and not be sure, my lord. Why damn your surety : these I’ll never sign; Here, take your trash;—and give me what is mine. Old Screwby scratching both his elbows, said. My lord, for writings five pounds must be paid. Here ’tis; but give me first of all what’s mine; Thou hast the cash, and mortgage deeds are thine. But they’re not sign’d, and so not worth a straw; Nor ever shall be whilst my breath I draw. PLATE V. SMART Captain Plume, much like a bird of prey, Doth seize on Rose, as mention’d in the Play: Bullock, her brother, with sagacious gloom, Says, Ruose, hcUlist thee—come away, come, come />//. J~uns */./&/O. ’byJidtffC't'f/*' J'C'Ps/jcn. EubfjaneU. ifttO, b\ • Edw ?Orme London, PLATE X. Three country bumpkins chanc’d to meet, Whose phizzes look’d like vizzards; The first, the second thus doth greet, Thy face is like some wizzard’s. The ugliest of the ugliest sort Thou art, or I’m mistaken; Sure nature made thee all for sport, Or sight hath me forsaken. 2d. But thou’rt all beauty in thy looks. And ev’ry feature’s pleasing ; This I wou’d swear on holy books, But for my sin increasing. For sure thy nose, thy mouth, thy eye, Would frighten any mortal: Pluto and Jove will throw thee by, On ent’ring grim death’s portal. 3d. The third and ugliest of the three, Cry’d, Lord!—how you’re conceited ! I cannot stand a mute and see • Two neighb’ring friends thus cheated. c 2 I wonder why such mortals should .About their beauty fall out! Were I as ugly 1 ne’er wou’d From my poor cottage crawl out. For with an ax and alder-tree, I’d make two men as handsome: Or live a slave in Tripoly, And never sue for ransome, flgoral. This is an emblem of all human kind; We every one to our own faults are blind: Nay, though they're blazing, them we cannot see They're beauties all, or pass from censure free * 7W>. June 4 /910,by Ectw d Orme,Londo*i 1 . • *• This done, she in her turn fell down before The good monk John, and mutter’d something o’er r The father sigh’d—his bacon-head he shook. And into private he poor Suky took For to chastise—but not with whips, ’tis thought, Which made our cuckold hastily cry out, My God—my Suky!—ah, she’s much too tender, Give me the lash; who knows but that may mend her And down he falls upon his bended knees To have the stripes—which Suky quickly sees. And whispers John;— Good,father, heat him hard r My sins are great, and sin shoud not be spar’d. Thus priests and monks of ev’ry order prove Meer wicked laymen, in the cause of love: And women’s nature from the first to last. Will sometimes long forbidden fruit to taste^ Pub. June 4 J&/0. by T.'duf Orme. Zondon . PLATE XIX. 1 HIS hypocrite, whose holy look and dress Seem Heaven-born, whose heart is nothing less: He preaches, prays, and sings for worldly wealth, Till old sly Mammon takes it all by stealth, And leaves him naked on a dreary shore, Where cant and nonsense draw in fools no more. PLATE XX. THE court and country here depicted are ^ One's fat and jolly; t’other s poor and bare : Plenty sits smiling on the courtier’s brow. Whilst meagre want the country’s face doth shew- Finding but little left behind : Old Hodge would have his half: He drank—but pick’d it up we find, And left it all for Roaf. / t ' "PLATE IIL Old squint-e/d Nan, who by the paultry trade. Of selling wooden-spoons and ladles made A shift to live;—and get tobacco too. And call’d sometimes where folks good ale did brew* One sultry day old Nanny supp’d so deep. That all she sold wou’d scarce the balance keep.; Which griev’d her sore; so she resolv’d to try If wealthy farmer Jones would something buy. She try’d indeed;.—but found all out of tune, For corn and cheese had dropp’d that afternoon. Nay more than that; he heard King George wou’d stay Corn’s shipping off,—and things wou’d lower each day:; They’d nothing buy.—Old Nanny shook her head. And with a sigh, thus to the farmer said : J) eel measter , weel:—boh one think e yer ear , Spoons win be spoons , who lives another year. Eight—win lhey so,owddeme? quo’ Mr. Jones 9 If that be hit , i'll buy urn aw for once. I know the owd proverb which is true I wot 3 ** A penny sav’d , is just a penny got." PLATE IV. MY lord at Arthur’s sharp’d of all his store* I’th’ morning quested how to finger more: He heard old Screwby oft supply’d the needs Of broken rakes, who had good title deeds. So he bunch’d up two packets, like in shape, Ty’d in blue paper with a silken tape: One deeds of land, seven hundred pounds a year. The other parchments old, and cancelf d were. The genuine packet lie to Screwby took. Who hemm’d and haw’d, and thro’ the whole did look: He lik’d the ware—and after coughing twice, With twang of nose, he query’d thus o’th’ price. And pray, my lord, what may you want on these ? One thousand pounds, old father, if you please ; And in the morning this day week, at nine, A thousand more—security as thine. My lord—a mortgage—mortgages I want, Things dubious grow;—and money’s wondrous scant: On these fair terms, a thousand down I’ll lay, And the remainder on the mention’d day. So Screwby counts the cash; the deeds secures: -My lord wheels off to gambling, rakes, and w—res. The new-made deeds so fill’d old Screwby’s head. That the false writings never once were read Till two months past; and then he nearly scans The shou’d-be deeds of all the mortgage lands. "When lo! old leases, with determin’d dates; Some cancell’d bonds ; parchments of law debates, Salutes with wonder his old winking eyes ; "Which made him start from chair in great surprize! His grey-burnt wig he whirls upon the ground, And stamping on’t, he wildly stares around ! What!—must our nobles cheat the poor—quo’ lie. And still be screen’d from stocks, and pillory ? Must thus the king give titles to the great. With power to ruin, murder, rob, and cheat ? Must some pack’d rogues thus plunder all the rest*. And when we’re bankrupts, laugh it into jest? But I’ll have right;—or stab the titled knave. And sweetly go reveng’d unto, my grave. Old Screwby now is close upon the scent,, In ev’ry place his lordship did frequent. Some knew the man;—some knew he lov’d a w—re ^ But all affirm’d he dy’d six weeks before. J*ub Ju/ie 4 Jd'JO.by ltd* Orme.Ijondon FELLOW feeling. PLATE IX, Now string’s put fast on tooth that aches,. Which round his hand he wraps, A glowing coal i’the tongs he takes, And to his nose he claps. The sight and smell of fire drove back, The patient’s head in fright, Who drew his own tooth in a crack, And prov’d the doctor right. Be sum with Hope FOSSESITOM &> EIYY, Iub.Ji&ie It.lSiO b yEdv* iOmteLondon. PLATE XI, XII, and XIII. See how these rustics liquor love to quaff: They cry, who want it; having it they laugh. O sweet possession! thou this diffrence makes, Thou teems with smiles and sprightly pleasure takes; Whilst craving minds are gall’d with keen desire, For some lov’d object, which they can’t acquire. Thus fav’rdes oft enjoy, with souls serene, "What others want, and long may wish in vain* . ; Thb Juno A J M 0 by Edw.^OivnelLcndon. PLATE XVIII. *’ Here the fair humble penitent behold, “ To the good father all her sins unfold : He hears, absolves, but mark his leering eyes, •“ And judge by them where his devotion lies.” At her warm altar oft he’s bow’d the knee, Cancell’d the crime, and prais’d her chastity. But take the story, which I’ve lately got From that old conjurer, hight Michael Scott. Old wealthy Walter married buxom Sue, For young she was, and very handsome too : She daily pray’d;—her beads slipp’d to and fro, And to confession constantly did go; Till squint-ey’d jealousy prick’d Walter’s mind, Who study’d hard the hated truth to find. This brawny monk (quoth Walter to himself) Blagues me much more than hoarding all my pelf; But I’m determin’d to find out my doom. For no plague equals doubtful cuckoldorn. Now Walter follows holy Sue to church, And in a pew lies perdue on the lurch; He ey’d his wife, in penitential dress, Counting her beads, and hearing th’ heavenly mass I*ub.'Atne t&to, by F.dwr Orrrie. Ztondon. PLATE XXIV. {^UOTH Hal to Dick, I know its true Thou courted Doll, my wife ; Nay, fame doth whisper k—d her too, Which thoughts the plague of life. That fame, quo' Dick’s a lying b—h. Whom none but fools will hear: But knaves quo’ Hal, give th’ courtiers itch, For which I wring thy ear. OZLID) 1GB 'WITH MUTITAJL (TOITEIfT, . V 'J . ■ * I /'ah. June A./titC. hyKJwH My lord took up and found the writings right, And ty’d them up again in Screwby’s sight, And in his pocket where th’ sham writings lay. He put them close, and cooly bad—good day. Griev’d to the soul, old Screwby sore did fret,. That he cou’d not this precious morsel get: His stick he takes—his greasy hat puts o’er His brown-white wig, and limp’d hard out of door After his lordship: Ho—my lord—holo !- Pray what’s to do, old father grey-beard now ? If’t please you, Sir, what must I give in hand, For you to sign, and let this bargain stand ? Two hundred pounds—: for witnesses I’ll send, Sion you and seal,, and so this job we’ll end. Gripe now in stretched bags of solid sounds. On table set twenty two hundred pounds. His lordship throws the mimic writings down. And thus each face has banish’d evr’y frown. The mortgage deeds are executed fair. Gripe puts tli’ old parchment in his bosom bare; Whilst solid gold my lord lugs to his chaise. And makes it fly ’mongst courtiers, girls, and plays n 2