QUae GENUS.

"_Masters_, an' please you, I had none, And _Mistresses_, I had but one: Indeed, Sir, it may not be civil, But O, she is a very devil, Which I am sure you will allow Soon as you come her name to know, Tho' oft and oft, and o'er and o'er, You must have heard it spoke before, But not in any pressing hour Have you been subject to her power.

It might not be a thing of course But I her servant was perforce, For sure as my name is QUae GENUS There seem'd a contract made between us; And her sad service I must rue, If I come not to live with you; With her I must continue still, If it proves not your gen'rous will, To receive me, Sir, from her With what she gives of character, For she sometimes can make pretence To ask heart-felt benevolence."

SIR JEFFERY.

"This is most strange, I do declare! } But pray what figure did she bear } While you th' unwilling servant were?" }

QUae GENUS.

"An ever-varying form she wore, As ever changeful Proteus bore: But or in motion she, or still; Her ev'ry hour is mark'd with ill.

She looks best pleas'd when sorrow flows, She can disdain when virtue bows: Labour and penury and pain And sad disease compose her train, While vain complaint and discontent Form her pale-fac'd establishment."

SIR JEFF'RY now let loose a smile As if some fancy did beguile And play upon his easy thought, With light, amusive mischief fraught; And this sarcastic question prov'd The pleasantry _Sir Jeff'ry_ lov'd.

"When she was in a spiteful humour, What said she of that _pretty tumour_?

The which without a wish to pry, Must sometimes meet her wand'ring eye.

Did she ne'er stroke your circling back, Nor e'er salute it with a smack; Or when she was dispos'd to sneer Compare it to a Hemisphere, Deck it with sun and moon and stars, With Venus, Mercury and Mars, Or cover with her liv'ry's robe The Continents of half the Globe; Or like an Atlas, did she flout you As you bore half the world about you, When you might show it as a sight, And gain no common profit by't; Blend with the Panorama's skill, In all the pride of printed bill, Deliver'd with a ready hand Through Leic'ster-fields or in the Strand."

The Knight's loud laughter then succeeded,-- And Johnny laughing too, proceeded.

"How happy you who thus can joke And wrap me in your funny cloak, Nay, when your mirth, Sir, may think fit, Can fill my crooked back with wit; Can even make me almost proud, Of that self-same prepost'rous load.

You may, perhaps, be not aware, But 'tis the truth which I declare, I would serve you for half the wages Which common servitude engages, Provided you would pay the rest In such nice puns and merry jest; I would with joy sign the receipt, For half in cash, and half in wit."

"Well, well, go on," _Sir Jeff'ry_ said, While his glad, twinkling eyes betray'd, How much QUae GENUS pleas'd his fancy At this so flatt'ring necromancy.

--While the Knight his cold coffee quaffing, But still at his own fancies laughing, Exclaim'd, "proceed, but be it known, } I wish the lady's hist'ry done, } And then you will conclude your own." }

QUae GENUS.

"When she first knew me she could see A form as strait as poplar tree, Then I was ruddy, fair and plump, Nor was my back crown'd with a hump, Of which you may not be aware, For hang the hag, she plac'd it there, And you, good Sir, shall shortly know, How to her power the gift I owe."

SIR JEFFERY.

"The more I hear, the more I see, The more you deal in mystery.

This Mistress, sure, of which you tell, Is an INCOMPREHENSIBLE!

A widow she, or is she wedded?

Or e'er by blushing Hymen bedded?"

QUae GENUS.

"O no, Sir, no.--She is more common Than is the worst street-walking woman.

There's scarce a mortal about town To whom this Mistress is not known; And if the track I should pursue, I might add in the country too.

But 'tis a keen wit that unravels The wide extent of all her travels; Nor time nor s.p.a.ce has she to spare, She's here and there and ev'ry where.

Though if I at a guess may venture Beneath this roof she will not enter, Unless, as you the chance may see, The saucy minx comes here with me."

SIR JEFFERY.

"But one more question I've to ask, Ere you perform your promis'd task, And tell me from all shuffling free, The items of your history, Up to the moment when you stand A candidate for my command.

And now QUae GENUS tell the name Of this same universal dame, Whom you, poor fellow, have been serving, And, as you state it, almost starving.

--If in your tale she does agree, It is a tale of mystery; Some fairy fable, I suppose, That paints, in emblems, human woes, And does in figur'd words, apply To your peculiar history.

It is not in the usual way That such as you their state display; It is not in such borrow'd guise That they unfold their histories, With here and there a little bit Of droll'ry to shew off their wit; It is not in this form I see Those who may wear my livery; But your's I feel a diff'rent case From those who come to seek a place; Or when the register may send him, With, 'Sir, we beg to recommend him.'

I now bethink me of the sage Who lov'd you in your tender age; And when I see you have a claim } To share the page that marks his fame, } SYNTAX, that highly honour'd name } A pa.s.sport is, my good QUae GENUS, To the familiar talk between us.

From that relation which you share, No longer stand, but take a chair, And now proceed, without delay, To close the tale in your own way.

"And once again, I ask the name Of this so universal dame; What is her fortune,--where she lives, And the strange means by which she thrives?

Where she acquires her wond'rous power, Which you describe, o'er ev'ry hour?

Where it began, my curious friend; Then tell me, pray, when it will end."

With due respect, as was requir'd, He took the chair for he was tir'd, And calling truth to be his guide, He thus in solemn tone replied.

QUae GENUS.

"MISS-FORTUNE is the name she bears, Her rent-roll's form'd of sighs and tears: She doth not live or here or there, I fear, Sir, she lives ev'ry where.

I'm sure that I know not the ground Where her sad influence is not found; But if a circle should appear } Beyond her arbitrary sphere, } I feel and hope, Sir, it is here. } --This worn-out coat, Sir, which you see, Is the kind Lady's livery: I once was fat, but now am thin, Made up of nought but bone and skin; I once was large but now am small, From feeding in her servants'-hall, And the hump I shall ever bear Is an example of her care.

As for the blessed Dame's beginning, I've heard that it began in sinning, And I have learn'd that she will end When this vile world has learn'd to mend; But if we guess when that may be, We may guess to eternity."

"MISS-FORTUNE!! Heav'ns! O thus she's nam'd,"

The Knight, with uplift eyes exclaim'd.

"O the dull head, not to have seen What the _Finale_ must have been!"

Then clasping hands and chuckling first Into a bellowing laugh he burst, Though not to his broad face confin'd, But on each side, before, behind, It seem'd as if his whimsies bound him, In a joyous circle round him: His belly trembles, his sides ache, And the great-chair scarce stands the shake.

'Twas a hoa.r.s.e, deep ba.s.s, note of mirth, To which his fancy thus gave birth; And Johnny fail'd not to come after An octave higher in his laughter, While his delight appear'd to speak In somewhat of a treble squeak.-- Thus, for some minutes they enjoy'd The _Duo_ which their nerves employ'd.

_Sir Jeff'ry_ shook his head awhile, Then spoke with a complacent smile.

"Though in a diff'ring point of view, } I know her just as well as you; } And hang the hag she plagues me too. } Need I, good fellow, need I tell ye, She deck'd me out with this great belly; 'Tis she, by way of friendly treat, Has given this pair of gouty feet; Nay sometimes when her whim commands _Miss-Fortune_ robs me of my hands: 'Tis she with her intention vile That makes me overflow with bile; And tho' my table's spread with plenty Of ev'ry nice and costly dainty, She sometimes envies me a bite, And takes away my appet.i.te.

She does not meddle with my wealth, But then she undermines my health; She never in my strong box looks, Nor pries into my banker's books; My ample fortune I contrive To guard with care and make it thrive, I check her power to destroy it, But then she says, 'you sha'n't enjoy it; I will take care you shall endure The ills and pains gold cannot cure.'

Or leagu'd with wrinkled age at least, She strives to interrupt the feast.

--But with her malice I contend, Where she's a foe, I'm oft a friend, And, with the weapons I can wield, I sometimes drive her from the field.

Nay when she does the victim clasp, I s.n.a.t.c.h it from her cruel grasp.

And thus you see, or more or less, I make her prove my happiness."

QUae GENUS.

"There was indeed a time when I Knew her but by warm sympathy With those who did her burthen bear, Which I have since been forc'd to share; But this, at least, I'm pleas'd to own, And 'tis a truth to you well known, Nay, this I'll say, in others' breast, Where'er the virtue is possess'd, She does, as I have felt, and see, Awake benign Humanity."

SIR JEFFERY.

"And she shall 'wake it now, QUae GENUS!

An instant contract's made between us.

I break that which she made with you, And gladly you abjure it too.