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178

FRIENDLY COUNSEL.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

When Foote to George Coleman his patent had sold,
One morn he by chance up the Haymarket stroll'd,
Took a peep at his quondam Palæstrum, and there he
The new Manager found in a precious quandary.
“We're rehearsing,” says George, “the Uphost'rer today, Sir;
“And, of all your old troop, he who personates Razor
“(Who should gape till he sets in a roar all the House)
“Will not open a mouth fit to swallow a mouse:
“From morning to noon, and from ev'ning to dawn
“I've been at him, but, zounds! I can't make the dog yawn.”
Sam look'd grave as a judge—“Coly, give me your hand!
“I'm your friend.—You shall soon see his grinders expand:
“Go, read your New Comedy to him, d'ye hear?
“And I'll bet you ten pounds that he'll yawn for a year.”
 

A Farce much in request, the humour of which is chiefly confined to the character of Razor, a gossipping Barber, who entertains the audience with gaping and grimace.

The Man of Business, which Coleman had recently published.