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DAMAGES, TWO HUNDRED POUNDS.

SPECIAL Jurymen of England! who admire your country's laws,
And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm's applause;
Gaily compliment each other at the issue of a cause
Which was tried at Guildford ʼsizes, this day week as ever was.

Unto that august tribunal comes a gentleman in grief,
(Special was the British Jury, and the Judge, the Baron Chief,)
Comes a British man and husband—asking of the law relief,
For his wife was stolen from him-he'd have vengeance on the

thief.

Yes, his wife, the blessed treasure with the which his life was

crowned, Wickedly was ravished from him by a hypocrite profound. And he comes before twelve Britons, men for sense and truth

renowned, To award him for his damage, twenty hundred sterling pound.

He by counsel and attorney there at Guildford does appear,
Asking damage of the villain who seduced his lady dear :
But I can't help asking, though the lady's guilt was all too clear,
And though guilty the defendant, wasn't the plaintiff rather

queer?

First the lady's mother spoke, and said she'd seen her daughter cry But a fortnight after marriage: early times for piping eye.

Six months after, things were worse, and the piping eye was black, And this gallant British husband caned his wife upon the back.

Three months after they were married, husband pushed her to the

door, Told her to be off and leave him, for he wanted her no more; As she would not go, why he went: thrice he left his lady dear, Left her, too, without a penny, for more than a quarter of a year.

Mrs. Frances Duncan knew the parties very well indeed,
She had seen him pull his lady's nose and make her lip to bleed;
If he chanced to sit at home not a single word he said ;
Once she saw him throw the cover of a dish at his lady's head.

Sarah Green, another witness, clear did to the Jury note
How she saw this honest fellow seize his lady by the throat,
How he cursed her and abused her, beating her into a fit,
Till the pitying next-door neighbours crossed the wall and

witnessed it.

Next door to this injured Briton Mr. Owers, a butcher, dwelt;
Mrs. Owers's foolish heart towards this erring dame did melt;
(Not that she had erred as yet, crime was not developed in her)
But being left without a penny, Mrs. Owers supplied her dinner-
God be merciful to Mrs. Owers, who was merciful to this sinner!

Caroline Naylor was their servant, said they led a wretched life,
Saw this most distinguished Briton fling a teacup at his wife;
He went out to balls and pleasures, and never once, in ten months'

space, Sate with his wife, or spoke her kindly. This was the defendant's

case.

Pollock, C. B., charged the Jury; said the woman's guilt was clear: That was not the point, however, which the Jury came to hear But the damage to determine which, as it should true appear, This most tender-hearted husband, who so used his lady dear,

Beat her, kicked her, caned her, cursed her, left her starving, year

by year, Flung her from him, parted from her, wrung her neck, and boxed

her earWhat the reasonable damage this afflicted man could claim, By the loss of the affections of this guilty graceless dame ?

Then the honest British Twelve, to each other turning round, Laid their clever heads together with a wisdom most profound : And towards his Lordship looking, spoke the foreman wise and

sound; “My Lord, we find for this here plaintiff damages two hundred

pound.”

So, God bless the Special Jury! pride and joy of English ground,
And the happy land of England, where true justice does abound !
British Jurymen and husbands.; let us hail this verdict proper ;
If a British wife offends you, Britons, you've a right to whop her.

If a bh. Jurymenland of Pbury! pri

Though you promised to protect her, though you promised to

defend her, You are welcome to neglect her: to the devil you may send her: You may strike her, curse, abuse her; so declares our law

renowned ; And if after this you lose her,—why you're paid two hundred

pound.

THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY.

THERE's in the Vest a city pleasant,

To vich King Bladud gev his name, And in that city there's a Crescent,

Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame.

Although that galliant knight is oldish,

Although Sir John as grey, grey air, Hage has not made his busum coldish,

His Art still beats tewodds the Fair!

'Twas two years sins, this knight so splendid,

Peraps fateagued with Bath's routines, To paris towne his phootsteps bended

In sutch of gayer folks and seans.

His and was free, his means was easy,

A nobler, finer gent than he
Ne’er drove about the Shons-Eleesy,

Or paced the Roo de Rivolee.

A brougham and pair Sir John prowided,

In which abroad he loved to ride; But ar! he most of all enjyed it,

When some one helse was sittin' inside!

That “some one helse" a lovely dame was,

Dear ladies, you will heasy tellCountess Grabrowski her sweet name was,

A noble title, ard to spell.

This faymus Countess ad a daughter

Of lovely form and tender art;
A nobleman in marridge sought her,

By name the Baron of Saint Bart.

Their pashn touched the noble Sir John,

It was so pewer and profound; Lady Grabrowski he did urge on,

With Hyming's wreeth their loves to crownd.

“O, come to Bath, to Lansdowne Crescent,”

Says kind Sir John, “and live with me; The living there's uncommon pleasant

I'm sure you'll find the hair agree.

“O, come to Bath, my fair Grabrowski,

And bring your charming girl," sezee; “The Barring here shall have the ouse-key,

Vith breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea.

“And when they've passed an appy winter,

Their opes and loves no more we'll bar; The marridge-vow they'll enter inter,

And I at church will be their Par."

To Bath they went to Lansdowne Crescent,

Where good Sir John he did provide No end of teas, and balls incessant,

And hosses both to drive and ride.

He was so Ospitably busy,

When Miss was late, he'd make so bold Upstairs to call out, “ Missy, Missy,

Come down, the coffy's getting cold!”

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