MEASURE for MEASURE,

     TUNE—Madame Figg's Gala.

A TAYLOR there liv'd in the North,
In buſineſs, as ſharp as a Needle ;
He liv'd upon Cabbage and broth,
Grew fat, and was dubb'd pariſh Beadle ;
Miſtreſs Stichlouſe had ta'en ſuch a Measure,
Thar an heir to his trade was ſoon born, fir ;
Who in mending old Cloaths found no pleaſure,
And treated the ſhop-board with ſcorn, ſir.
                                                        Rum ti iddity, &c.

                                II.

His Son was a rickety brat,
And ſcarcely as long as his Yard, ſir ;
His Head was remarkably Fat,
His Scull was thick, heavy, and hard, ſir,
Far away he was ſent to be mended ;
But every attempt prov'd in vain, ſir,
A Dung he went out 'tis contended ;
And a Fool he has come home again, ſir.
                                                    Rum ti iddity, &c.

                            III.

That Paull cannot Taylor, 'tis true,
But Breaches he makes in the peace, Sir,
The Meaſures he takes are not New,
But he cabbages votes from the Geeſe, ſir ;
Let us cut ſhort the thread of his ſtory,
And HOOD be the Man of our choice, ſirs,
With his Sword he defends England's Glory,
Which SHERIDAN does with his voice, ſir.
                                                    Rum ti iddity, &c:

                             IV.

Let Paull then Return to his trade,
An object of hatred and Pity ;
The Ninth of a Man was not made,
To repreſent Weſtminſter City ;
Here we neither want Burdett's nor Bony's,
And Paull is the ſworn friend of either :
To the Scaſſold he'll ſtick by his cronies,
'Tis ſitting they ſhould hang Together.
                                                    Rum ti iddity, &c.

                                Lowndes, Printer, Marquis Court.