To th' souldiers that were maimed,
And wounded in the fray,
The queen allow'd a pension
Of fifteen pence a day;
And from all costs and charges
She quit and set them free:
And this she did all for the sake
Of brave lord Willoughbèy.

Then courage, noble Englishmen,
And never be dismaid;
If that we have but one to ten,
We will not be afraid

To fight with foraign enemies,
And set our nation free:

And thus I end the bloody bout
Of brave lord Willoughbèy.

THE ORIGIN OF THE

MONDAY NIGHT'S CLUB, AT IPSWICH.

This Club was first established in the year 1725, and consisted of an unlimited number of members. They met alternately at each other's houses on every Monday evening; and although there were many wig members amongst them, yet, in politics, they were all most decided tories. The club ceased to exist in the year 1812.

The following Song, which was sung at their annual dinner, was written by the late Dr. Clubbe. He had practised for many years in Ipswich, both as a Surgeon, and as a Physician; and died at his house in Brook-street, after a long and painful illness, April 25th, 1811, in the 71st. year of his age. The Doctor

His me

was the eldest son of the Rev. John Clubbe, rector of Whatfield, and vicar of Debenham, the author of an admirable piece of irony, levelled against modern antiquaries, "The History and Antiquities of Wheatfield." Of the Doctor, who was a man of considerable humour, and of a most chearful disposition, many pleasant anecdotes are still in the recollection of his friends. To a pun, or a facetious story he was no enemy. dical acquirements had deservedly obtained for him the highest esteem of the public; while the suavity of his manners, and the sociability of his character, had justly endeared him to a large circle of acquaintance. He published "A Treatise on the Inflamation in the "breasts of lying-in Women, 1779," 8vo. and "On "the Venereal Poison, 1782," 8vo. He lies buried in the church-yard of St. Stephen, Ipswich, and in the church a neat mural monument has been erected to his memory, with the following inscription in Cupitals :

TO THE MEMORY OF
JOHN CLUBBE,

LATE A VERY EMINENT

PHYSICIAN, IN THIS PLACE,
WHO DIED 25TH. APRIL 1811,
AGED 70 YEARS.

His well known probity,
Universal benevolence,

Friendly disposition, obliging temper
And engaging manners

During a long Residence in this Town,
Endeared him to all

Who sought either his acquaintance
As a friend

Or his assistance as a Physician
And his loss
Is as generally lamented.

In the year twenty-five, as by oral tradition,
A set of Choice Spirits, enliven'd by wine,
Agreed 'mong themselves, in a special commission,
To erect a new banquet at Bacchus's shrine.

N

All rosy, good humour'd, and full of invention,

By some proper name the new meeting to dub, They agreed one and all, not a voice in dissention, It's name shou'd be called, THE MONDAY NIGHT'S CLUB.

Prefix'd thus its name, time and place they selected When and where they shou'd hold their nocturnal

carouses;

And one night in each week they by vote then directed The Club should be held at each others own houses.

To secure its existence came next in discussion,
For clubs, if not foster'd, fall into decay;
They decreed all it's members, in future succession,
In Religion and Party shou'd think the same way.

In Party, the Tories shou'd first be admitted,

And of them only those who reside in the town ; In Religion, Church Priests shou'd alone be permitted, And both as the true and staunch friends of the Crown.

A wag then exclaim'd, my good friends, you're aware Mere Religion or Party can't keep it from sinking; We must make out a bill of some good wholesome fare,

For no club can exist without eating and drinking.

Let it's fare be quite simple, bread, butter, and cheese,

Hot suppers inflame and distemper the brain; Nice stomachs may then eat or not as they please, And sup and re-sup o'er again and again.

Let it's liquors be port, punch, porter and ale,
In wine says the Proverb there's truth and no care;
Each member may then in libations regale,

And toast that first blessing of heaven, the Fair.

The fumes of tabac sooth the ennui of thinking, Give a truce to the mind to reflect on its lass; Long tubes are of course an appendage to drinking, For a whiff now and then adds new zest to the

glass.

Well pleas'd with their banquet, now fully completed, They arose, and took each a full bumper in hand; Live for ever our Club! with three cheers they repeated,

Be it envied by all other clubs in the Land.

THE

SUFFOLK COMEDY.

IN THREE PARTS.

To the Tune of "Phillis the Lovely."

The following old Legendary Ballad is printed from an unique copy in the possession of Mr. Raw, of Ipswich.

PART I

You young men and maidens of beauty most bright,
Give ear to my story of love and delight;

I know that most people will of it approve,
It shew's that some maidens are crafty in love.

It is an old saying we often do hear,
That maids go a courting when it is leap year;
A comical courtship this proves in the end,
Most people will smile ere my song's at an end.
Young Cupid he ranges about now and then,
And maidens are wounded as well as the men;
For all must submit to nis conquering bow,
As now by experience you soon all shall know.
A handsome young lady in London did dwell,
Whose parents were dead, it is known very well;
She had the possession, all in her own hands,
Of great store of riches, and houses, and lands.
A gentleman out of the country did ride,
And at a great milliner's shop in Cheapside
He took up his lodgings, as I do declare,
When many a beautiful lady came there,
Fine gloves, and rich ribbons, and fans there to buy,
And such other nick-nacks as pleased their eye;
The gentleman of them did take a full view,
And often would pass a fine compliment too.
This beautiful lady amongst all the rest,
She came to the milliner's shop I protest,
And seeing this gentleman, she, for her part,
That instant was wounded by Cupid's sharp dart.
This honoured beautiful lady by birth
Thought him the handsomest creature on earth;
So sweet was his carriage, such eloquent ways,
In person so graceful, exceeding all praise.
When business was over, this man to be plain,
Took coach and then rode back to Suffolk again,
At which the young lady was grieved full sore,
For he was the person that she did adore.
The ardour of love was enkindled so great,
Her fond heart lay panting and fearfully beat;