This happened on a day most dear
To Epicures, when general use
Sanctions the roasting of the sav'ry goose!
Towards night, one Frenchman, at a tavern near,
Stopped, and beheld the glorious cheer;
While greedily he snuffed the luscious gale in
That from the kitchen windows was exhaling;
He instant set to work his busy brain,
And snuffed and longed, and longed and snuffed again.
Necessity's the mother of invention,
(A proverb I've heard many mention,)
So now one moment saw his plan completed,
And our sly Frenchman at a table seated.
The ready waiter at his elbow stands
Sir, will you favour me with your commands,
We've roast and boiled, Sir, choose you those or these”. "Sare! you are very good, Sare! Vat you please!" Quick at the word,
Upon the table smokes the wished-for bird!
No time in talking did he waste,
But pounced pell-mell upon it,
Drumstick and merry-thought he picked in haste,
Exulting in the merry-thought that won it!
Pie follows goose, and after pie comes cheese :-
"Stilton or Cheshire, Sir?""Ah, vat you please!".
And now our Frenchman having ta'en his fill,
Prepares to go, when-" Sir, your little bill."
"Ah, vat you're Bill! vell Mr. Bill, good day!
Bon jour, good Villiam."-" No, Sir, stay,
My name is Tom, Sir-you've this bill to pay."
"Pay, pay, ma Foi !
I call for noting, Sare-pardonnez moi !
You bring me vat you call your goose, your cheese,
You ask-a me to eat-I tell you, Vat you please!"
Down came the master, each explained the case,
The one with cursing, t' other with grimace,
But Boniface who dearly loved a jest, (Although sometimes he dearly paid for it)
And finding nothing could be done, (you know,
That when a man has got no money,
To make him pay some would be rather funny)
Of a bad bargain made the best,
Acknowledged much was to be said for it;
Took pity on the Frenchman's meagre face,
And Briton-like forgave a fallen foe,
Laughed heartily and let him go.
Our Frenchman's hunger thus subdued,
Away he trotted in a merry mood;
When turning round the corner of a street,
Who, but his countryman he chanced to meet!
To him, with many a shrug and many a grin,
He told how he had taken Jean Bull in!
Fired with the tale, the other licks his chops,
Makes his congee, and seeks this shop of shops.
Entering, he seats himself, just at his ease,
"What will you take, Sir?"- "Vat you please !”
The waiter looked as pale as Paris plaster,
And, upstairs running, thus addressed his Master :
"These poor Mounseers come over sure in pairs;
Sir, there's another 'vat you please!' down stairs."
This made the honest Landlord rather crusty,
Too much of one thing-the proverb's somewhat musty.
Once to be done, his anger didn't touch,
But when a second time they tried the treason,
It made him crusty, Sir, and with good reason,
You would be crusty were you done so much.
There is a kind of instrument
Which greatly helps a serious argument,
And which, when properly applied, occasions
Some most unpleasant tickling sensations!
"Twould make more clumsy folks than Frenchmen skip, "Twould strike you presently,-a stout Horsewhip.
This instrument our Maitre d' Hote
Most carefully concealed beneath his coat;
And seeking instantly the Frenchman's station,
Addressed him with the usual salutation.
Our Frenchman bowing to his threadbare knees,
Determined while the iron's hot to strike it,
Pat with his lesson answers-"Vat you please !”.
But scarcely had he let the sentence slip,
Than round his shoulders twines the pliant whip;
"Sare, Sare! ah, misericorde, Monsieur !
Oh dear Monsieur, vat make you use me so?
Vat call you dis?"-" Ah don't you know,
That's what I please," says Bonny, "how d'ye like it?
Your friend, although I paid dear for his funning,
Deserved the goose he gained Sir, for his cunning;
But you, Monsieur, or else my time I'm wasting,
Are goose enough-and only wanted basting.”
ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CESAR'S BODY.
FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen !-lend me your ears.
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar!-Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man,
So are they all, all honourable men,)
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me;
But Brutus. says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown;
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause :
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason.-Bear with me:
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.-
But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O Masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar;
I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:
Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,)
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle: I remember
The first time ever Cæsar put it on ;
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii.-
Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through
See what a rent the envious Casca made.-
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed ;
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it !-
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved,
If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no ;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:
Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This, this was the unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquished him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
O what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.
O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls; what! weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded?-look you here!
Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors.
Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To any sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are honourable;
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
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