Financial Accounting Weygandt 8th Edition Test Bank

FINANCIAL ACCOUNTING WEYGANDT 8TH

EDITION TEST BANK
Fu l l d own lo a d at: htt ps://tes tb an kb el l.com/ p ro du ct/fi n anc ia l -
a cco unt in g -weyg a ndt -8t h -e dit ion -t est - ba nk/

SUMMARY OF QUESTIONS BY LEARNING OBJECTIVES AND BLOOM’S TAXONOMY

Item LO BT Item LO BT Item LO BT Item LO BT Item LO BT
True-False Statements
sg
1. 1 K 10. 2 K 19. 4 K 28. 7 C 37. 2 K
sg
2. 1 K 11. 2 K 20. 5 C 29. 7 C 38. 3 K
sg
3. 1 C 12. 2 K 21. 5 K 30. 7 C 39. 4 C
sg
4. 2 K 13. 2 K 22. 5 K 31. 8 K 40. 5 K
sg
5. 2 K 14. 2 K 23. 5 K 32. 8 K 41. 6 K
sg
6. 2 C 15. 3 K 24. 6 K 33. 8 K 42. 7 K
sg
7. 2 K 16. 4 K 25. 6 K 34. 8 K 43. 8 K
8. 2 C 17. 4 K 26. 6 K 35. 8 K
sg
9. 2 K 18. 4 K 27. 7 K 36. 1 K
Multiple Choice Questions
44. 1 K 71. 4 C 98. 6 K 125. 7 K 152. 8 AP
45. 1 K 72. 4 K 99. 6 C 126. 7 C 153. 8 AP
46. 1 K 73. 4 K 100. 6 K 127. 7 C 154. 8 AP
47. 1 C 74. 4 C 101. 6 K 128. 7 C 155. 8 AP
48. 1 K 75. 4 K 102. 6 K 129. 7 AN 156. 8 AN
49. 1 K 76. 4 K 103. 6 K 130. 7 C 157. 8 AN
50. 1 K 77. 4 C 104. 6 K 131. 8 C 158. 8 AN
51. 1 K 78. 4 K 105. 6 C 132. 8 C 159. 8 AN
52. 1 K 79. 5 K 106. 6 K 133. 8 K 160. 8 AN
a
53. 2 K 80. 5 K 107. 6 C 134. 8 K 161. 9 K
a
54. 2 C 81. 5 K 108. 6 AP 135. 8 K 162. 9 K
a
55. 2 C 82. 5 K 109. 6 AP 136. 8 AP 163. 9 K
a
56. 2 C 83. 5 K 110. 6 AP 137. 8 AP 164. 9 C
sg
57. 2 C 84. 5 C 111. 6 AP 138. 8 AP 165. 1 K
st
58. 2 C 85. 5 C 112. 6 AP 139. 8 K 166. 1 K
st
59. 2 C 86. 5 K 113. 6 K 140. 8 C 167. 1 K
sg
60. 2 K 87. 5 K 114. 6 K 141. 8 K 168. 2 K
st
61. 2 K 88. 5 C 115. 6 K 142. 8 K 169. 2 K
sg
62. 2 C 89. 5 K 116. 6 K 143. 8 AP 170. 4 K
st
63. 3 K 90. 5 K 117. 7 C 144. 8 AP 171. 5 K
sg
64. 3 C 91. 5 K 118. 7 AP 145. 8 AP 172. 5 K
sg
65. 3 K 92. 5 K 119. 7 C 146. 8 AP 173. 6 K
sg
66. 4 K 93. 6 K 120. 7 C 147. 8 AP 174. 7 C
sg
67. 4 K 94. 6 K 121. 7 C 148. 8 AP 175. 7 C
sg
68. 4 K 95. 6 K 122. 7 C 149. 8 AP 176. 8 K
sg
69. 4 K 96. 6 C 123. 7 C 150. 8 AP 177. 8 K
70. 4 K 97. 6 K 124. 7 C 151. 8 AP

Visit TestBankBell.com to get complete for all chapters

1-2 Test Bank for Financial Accounting, Eighth Edition
sg
This question also appears in the Study Guide.
st
This question also appears in a self-test at the student companion website.
a
This question covers a topic in an appendix to the chapter.

FOR INSTRUCTOR USE ONLY

 Accounting in Action 1-3

SUMMARY OF QUESTIONS BY LEARNING OBJECTIVES AND BLOOM’S TAXONOMY

Brief Exercises
178. 2 C 181. 6 AP 184. 7 C 187. 8 AP
179. 6 K 182. 6 AP 185. 8 AP 188. 8 AP
180. 6 K 183. 6 C 186. 8 C
6.
Exercises
189. 2,4 K 197. 6 C 205. 7 C 213. 8 AP 221. 8 AN
190. 6 C 198. 6,7 C 206. 7 C 214. 8 AP 222. 8 C
191. 6 C 199. 6,7 C 207. 7 AP 215. 8 AP 223. 8 AP
192. 6 AP 200. 6,7 AP 208. 7 C 216. 8 AN 224. 8 AP
193. 6 C 201. 7 AP 209. 7 C 217. 8 AP 225. 8 AP
194. 6 AP 202. 7 AP 210. 7 C 218. 8 AP
195. 6 AN 203. 7 C 211. 7 C 219. 8 C
196. 6 AN 204. 7 AN 212. 7 C 220. 8 AP
Challenge Exercises
226. 6,7 AP 227. 8 AP 228. 8 AP
Completion Statements
229. 1 K 231. 2 K 233. 4 K 235. 5 K 237. 6 K
230. 2 K 232. 2 K 234. 4 K 236. 6 K 238. 8 K

Matching: Q239, Short Answer: Q240-245, IFRS: Q246 – 259

SUMMARY OF LEARNING OBJECTIVES BY QUESTION TYPE

Item Type Item Type Item Type Item Type Item Type Item Type Item Type
Learning Objective 1
1. TF 36. TF 46. MC 49. MC 52. MC 167. MC
2. TF 44. MC 47. MC 50. MC 165. MC 229. C
3. TF 45. MC 48. MC 51. MC 166. MC
Learning Objective 2
4. TF 9. TF 14. TF 56. MC 61. MC 189. Ex
5. TF 10. TF 37. TF 57. MC 62. MC 230. C
6. TF 11. TF 53. MC 58. MC 168. MC 231. C
7. TF 12. TF 54. MC 59. MC 169. MC 232. C
8. TF 13. TF 55. MC 60. MC 178. BE
Learning Objective 3
15. TF 38. TF 63. MC 64. MC 65. MC
Learning Objective 4
16. TF 39. TF 69. MC 73. MC 77. MC 233. C
17. TF 66. MC 70. MC 74. MC 78. MC 234. C
18. TF 67. MC 71. MC 75. MC 170. MC
19. TF 68. MC 72. MC 76. MC 189. Ex
Learning Objective 5
20. TF 40. TF 82. MC 86. MC 90. MC 172. MC
21. TF 79. MC 83. MC 87. MC 91. MC 235. C
22. TF 80. MC 84. MC 88. MC 92. MC
23. TF 81. MC 85. MC 89. MC 171. MC

FOR INSTRUCTOR USE ONLY

 Another random document
un-related content on Scribd:
 JULIUS CÆSAR.

Brutus.—Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be

silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have
respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in
your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better
judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of
Cæsar’s, to him I say that Brutus’ love to Cæsar was no less
than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against
Cæsar, this is my answer:—Not that I loved Cæsar less, but
that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living and
die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men?
As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I
rejoice at it; as he was valiant I honour him; but, as he was
ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his
fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who
is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him
have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a
Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so
vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I
offended. I pause for a reply.
A iii. S ii.
AP A .
A poor itinerant player, caught performing the part of a poacher, and
being taken before the magistrates assembled at a quarter sessions for
examination, one of them asked him what right he had to kill a hare? when
he replied in the following parody on Brutus’ speech to the Romans in
defence of the death of Cæsar:—
“Britons, hungrymen, and epicures! hear me for my cause; and
be silent—that you may hear; believe me for mine honour, and have
respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your
 wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If
there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of this hare, to him I
say, that a player’s love for hare is no less than his. If, then, that
friend demand why a player rose against a hare, this is my answer—
not that I loved hare less, but that I loved eating more. Had you
rather this hare were living, and I had died starving—than that this
hare were dead, that I might live a jolly fellow? As this hare was
pretty, I weep for him; as he was nimble, I rejoice at it; as he was
plump, I honour him; but, as he was eatable, I slew him. There are
tears for his beauty; honour for his condition; joy for his speed; and
death for his toothsomeness. Who is here so cruel would see a
starved man? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so
silly that would not take a tit-bit? If any, speak, for him have I
offended. Who is here so sleek that does not love his belly? If any,
speak, for him have I offended.”
“You have offended justice, sirrah,” cried one of the magistrates,
out of all patience at this long and strange harangue.
“Then,” cried the culprit, guessing at the hungry feelings of the
bench, “since justice is dissatisfied, it must needs have something to
devour; heaven forbid I should keep any gentleman from his dinner
—so, if you please, I’ll wish your worships a good day, and a good
appetite.”
——:o:——
Marc Antony.—
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Cæsar answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest—
For Brutus is an honourable man;
 So are they all, all honourable men—
Come I to speak in Cæsar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the Coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
Act III., Sc. II.
——:o:——
This oration was recently selected as the original for a parody
competition in The Weekly Dispatch, the subject treated being the political
situation on the resignation of Mr. Gladstone.
The Prize was awarded to Mr. T. Alderson Wilson, 3, Church Terrace,
Queen’s Road, South Lambeth, S.W., for the following:—
S W H ( .);
Whigs, Lib’rals, Radicals, lend me your ears;
I cannot speak of Gladstone and not praise him,
The work that statesmen do lives after them,
Though it is oft imperilled by their fall.
So will it be with Gladstone. The noble marquis
Hath told you Gladstone was ambitious.
If it were so, now by the late default
Of his supporters he hath answered it.
Here, under leave of Cecil and the rest
(For Cecil is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men),
Come I to speak on Gladstone’s overthrow.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me;
But Cecil says he was ambitious;
And Cecil is an honourable man.
He hath brought many markets to our trade,
Whose commerce doth the general coffers fill.
Did this in Gladstone seem ambitious?
When “Tax the Corn!” they cried, Gladstone hath kept
Taxation from the tables of the poor,
Yet Cecil says he was ambitious;
And Cecil is an honourable man.
You all did see that in her audience-room
The Queen did offer him a coronet,
The which he did refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Cecil says he was ambitious;
And Cecil is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Cecil spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did rally round him and his cause,
What cause withholds you now to vote for him?
O Judgment, thou hast passed from Radicals,
And Whigs have lost their reason! Bear with me;
My heart is on the benches Ministerial,
And I must sigh till I get back to them!
The following were highly commended:—
J B ( .):
Friends, Britons, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to speak of Gladstone, not to praise him.
The evil that men do is loudly bruited;
The good should live to answer in their praise.
So let it be with Gladstone. The noble Churchill
Hath told you Gladstone is disloyal:
If he be so, it is a grievous fault,
And grievously shall Gladstone answer it.
Here under leave of Churchill and the rest
(For Churchill is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men),
Come I to speak of Gladstone my free mind.
He is my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Churchill says he is disloyal;
And Churchill is an honourable man.
He hath in many a Budget swept away
The taxes that oppressed your daily wants.
Did this in Gladstone seem disloyal?
When that the poor were dumb he gave them voice—
Disloyalty’s not made of trustful stuff:
Yet Churchill says he is disloyal;
And Churchill is an honourable man.
You all do know that when he sought repose
You, trumpet-tongued, did call him from his rest
To remedy your wrongs. Was this disloyal?
Yet Churchill says he is disloyal;
And sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Churchill spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once—not without cause;
What cause withholds you, then, to vote for him?
O Judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart’s in Opposition there with Gladstone,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
H. L. B .
 Friends, voters, countrymen, lend me your ears;
’Tis yours to judge of Gladstone, not to jeer him.
The evil statesmen do, lives after them,
The good is oft forgotten when they go.
So let it be with Gladstone. The noble Churchill
Hath told you Gladstone was a traitor:
If he were so, his was a grievous fault,
And at the polls will Gladstone answer it.
Here, begging leave of Randolph and the rest
(For Randolph is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men),
Come I to speak of Gladstone’s recent deeds.
He was our friend, faithful and just to us:
But Churchill says he was a traitor;
And Churchill is an honourable man.
He hath to twice a million given votes,
Who, ransomed, now the land with gladness fill.
Did this in Gladstone seem as trait’rous?
When that the Irish groaned, Gladstone hath risked
His reputation to remove their woes:
Yet Churchill says he was a traitor;
And Churchill is an honourable man.
You all did see that ere he office left
The Queen presented him a fossil’s crown,
Which humbly he refused. Perhaps this was trait’rous?
For Churchill says he was a traitor;
And sure the bauble he’d have grasped himself.
I speak not to disprove what Churchill spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause,
What cause withholds you all to love him now?
O Office, thou art gone to Brag and Bung!
But voters still have reason. And this mark—
Their hearts are in the good cause, and with Gladstone;
And he will work till reeling Jingo’s crushed.
G M .
he Weekly Dispatch, June 28, 1885.
 CYMBELINE.

S .
Guiderius.
Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task has done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Arviragus.
Fear no more, the frown o’ the great;
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Guiderius.
Fear no more the lightning flash.

Arviragus.
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

Guiderius.
Fear not slander, censure rash;

Arviragus.
Thou hast finish’d joy and moan:

Both.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
Guiderius.
No exorciser harm thee!

Arviragus.
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Guiderius.
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Arviragus.
Nothing ill come near thee!

Both.
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!
Act IV. Scene II.

——:o:——
TO L. P. ON TAKING HIS DEGREE.
Fear no more the voice of the don,
Nor the oft-cut tutor’s rages,
Thou thy Oxford course hast run,
And art numbered with the sages.
All Oxford men, its my belief,
Must graduate or come to grief.

Fear no more the snarl of the sub[41],

Thou art past that tyrant’s stroke.
No more buttery beer, and grub,
No more rows with sported oak!
Even X.—— himself, its my belief,
Must graduate or come to grief!

Fear no more the bull-dog’s dash,

Nor pursuing proctor’s tone.
Fear not rustication rash,
 Thou art now a graduate grown!
All we, like thee, its my belief,
Must do the same or come to grief!
No dun’s accountant harm thee!
No ugly woman charm thee!
Tick unpaid forbear thee!
Never bill come near thee!
Prosper, flourish, gain renown,
Ere you take the master’s gown!
Odd Echoes from Oxford, by A. Merion, . .
(London, J. C. Hotten, 1872).
 AS YOU LIKE IT.

A II. S VII. The Forest.

A table set out. Enter D senior, A , and Lords like outlaws.
Duke S. I think he be transform’d into a beast;
For I can no where find him like a man.

First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence;

Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,

We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.
Enter J .
First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,

That your poor friends must woo your company?
What, you look merrily!

Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the forest,

A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun,
And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
“Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he,
“Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune;”
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock:
Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags.
’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more ’twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.
 AC R .
The open-air performances of As You Like it at Combe are all very well,
but under the influences of an east wind and damp ground, colds in the head
come on very rapidly, just imagine the melancholy Jaques speaking thus:—
A fool, a fool!—I bet a fool i’ the forest,
A botley fool;—a biserable world!
As I do live by—attishu—food, I bet a fool;
Who laid hib dowd ad bask’d hib id the sud,
Ad rail’d od Lady Fortude id good terbs,
Id good set terbs—attishu—ad yet a botley fool.
“Good borrow, fool,” quoth I, “Dough, Sir,” quoth he.
“Call be dot fool till heaved has sed be fortude.”
Ad—attishu—thed he drew a dial frob his poke,
Ad lookid od it with lack lustre eye,
Says very wisely, “It’s ted o’clock;
Thus we bay see” quoth he, “how the world wags,
Tis but ad hour ago sidce it was dide;
Ad after ad—attishu—hour bore, ’twill be eleved;
Ad so frob hour to hour, we ripe ad ripe,
Ad thed frob hour to hour we rot ad rot,
Ad thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear,
The botley fool thus boral od the tibe,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-codtebplative;
Ad I did laugh, sads idterbissiod.
Ad—attishu—hour by his dial. O doble fool!
A worthy fool! Botley’s the odly wear—attishu!
Funny Folks, 1885.
 M J D .
A dude—a dude! I met a dude i’ the avenue;
A silly dude;—a most conceited blockhead!—
As I do live by toil, I met a dude,
Who sucked his cane, and basked him in the sun,
And ogled all the ladies with his grin;
With good broad grin, and yet a silly dude.
“Good morrow, dude,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he.
“Call me not dude till I have put on corsets;”
And then he drew an eye-glass from his poke,
And looking through it with lack-lustre eye,
Said, very softly, “She’s the proper soot!
Thus may we see,” quoth he, “how the world wags:
The last that passed was ugly as my cane;
The next that comes may be a very angel.
And, so from hour to hour, we bloom and bloom,
And then, from hour to hour, we fade and fade,
And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear
The silly dude thus comment on the girls,
My toes began to itch like chilblain toes,
That dudes should be so deep-nonsensical;
And I did kick, sans intermission,
That dude for half an hour. Oh, noble dude!
A worthy dude!—skin-tight’s the only wear.
——:o:——
All the world’s a Newspaper!
And all our men and women merely readers:
They have their tastes and their hobby horses,
And each one in his turn receives a part,
The number being seven—First the Poet,
Fond of the jingling line and tinsel smile,
Enjoying tortur’d sense and strangling art,
But if the line flows smoothly to its end,
For ever bathing in the Aonean font;
Him nought but sonnets, stanzas, odes, delight,
And so he reads his part. Next comes in view
The sober, softly-sighing Sentimentalist,
Seeking for rapture in the—dashy—line,
The Shandean tale, ill told compar’d with Sterne’s,
They fragments choose, and tales and anecdotes.
Next the Wit, relishing the fun obscene
If but the point be gross—Him repartees,
Bon mots and gummy epigrams must please.
And then the Politician, full of strange whims;
Seeking essays, strictures, observations,
With solemn phiz, talking of revolutions,
Patriot armies, sieges, and leagues of despots;
Of neutral powers and of neutral rights, cabals,
Of foreign interference, suability of states,
And all the mazes of the court police.
He marks each signature—what Brutus writes he reads,
And turns his eye from Cassius—sees in some men
The wish to bond us to a foreign yoke;
In others, sees the wish for nature’s state,
And have the curbed bit of law destroy’d,
That like the savage all might rove at will,
Free as the air they breathe; while some he sees,
Who wish the government of purest source
And subordination, might secure
Our fair inheritance—These form the general mass.
Next comes the Economist, hunting for recipes,
Receipts, experiments.—With up turn’d nose
He runs o’er prose and verse, and like to Hotspur
Had rather be a Kitten and cry mew
Than, one of these same metre ballad loves.
The grade of Moralist next advance to view!
Fond of the maxim sage, and sober precept:
They once a week expect their frugal fare,
To mend the manners and instruct the mind,
Last comes the pale and slipper’d Wonder Hunter,
Intent on dying speeches,—hurricanes,
Malignant fevers, pestilence and want.—
Of thousands butcher’d on the bloody field,
And thousands starving in the wasted land,
They thunder storms delight in, and seek
With earnest eye for deaths and murders,
Of people drown’d, or burnt, or suffocated,
Learn whom the Knot of Hymen has fast tied,
And whom the Knot of Justice faster noos’d;
With the long list of every human ill.
These all must have their part. The printer, else,
Is but the standing mark of censure loud,
These tastes not gratified, they will all growl,
And cry the papers barren, empty, dull,
Sans news, sans sense, sans art, sans everything.
From The British Minstrel, a collection of Songs, Recitations, &c.
September 25, 1824.
 B ,B , D .
“All the world’s a stage” in several stages;
Great Shakespeare says our acts are seven ages,
“And all the men and women players merely.”
See “As you like it,” which informs us clearly
We have our entrances and exits here,
And many of us no great shakes appear.
“King John,” “Macbeth,” and others of his plays,
Confirm our wickedness in many ways;
First, the Infant in its nurse’s arms, it
“Mewles and pukes,” and as it cries she calms it.
Next there’s the Schoolboy constantly declining
The verb “to work,” and with his satchel whining,
As on he creeps, like snail, at slug-gard’s pace—
A sun not always “with a shining face:”
Until he learns ’tis easier to be good,
His master being in th’ imperative mood;
And if the youth is backward in the school,
He has his knuckles reddened with the rule.
The rule of three he does not deem much fun,
While he is flinching at the rule of one,
Who makes him only ten times more perplexed;
The lover, à la Vilikin comes next,
And who, like Vilikin, trolls out a ballad
As neatly garnished as a lobster salad;
“Made to his mistress’ eyebrow;” to some air,
Which howsome’er she says she cannot bear.
Sometimes this age betokens noisy gent
Not coming home till midnight is far spent
Who cannot from the knockers quite abstain,
Of which the quiet inmates will complain.
Sometimes these fast young men after the play,
At Cyder Cellars turn night into day,
This they call “Killing time,” until they learn
Old Time may, perhaps the compliment return.
Then come the Soldiers and the Volunteers—
In other words the prime of life appears—
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, zealous when on guard;
Seeking without the least intimidation,
What Shakespeare calls “the bubble reputation.”
’Tis strange they are not bored with so much drilling,
While practising the noble art of killing!
Next is the Justice, and he just is fat,
Living on law—not always justice that!
Proving beyond all doubt, by frequent panting,
The law he lives on is not that of Banting;
His body (outside) like a water butt
But not within! His beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws (such as are seldom seen
Excepting at a carpenter’s I ween)
And modern instances; and so he plays
His part, until he sees declining days
Announce another age, when enters soon
The sixth, “the lean and slippered Pantaloon,”
“With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
“His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide
“For his shrunk shank;” his voice begins to fail,
And whistles up and down the vocal scale.
Last scene of all this history that ends,
Is mere oblivion of those trusty friends
Who gather round us, and who thus endeavour
To cheer and comfort ’ere we leave for ever
This busy, meddling, moneymaking world;
Sans teeth, as into it we once were hurled
Indeed, for time can no more changes ring,
“Sans sight, sans taste, sans smell, sans everything,
And so the curtain falls, thus ends the play
Which might be named “Bud, Blossom and Decay”!
The time is short between each act, and we
Should note the changes, and our errors see
And thus a wholesome lesson may be gained,
The proper sentiment being yet retained
Without a jest against the reader’s will,
Though slightly altered, “As you like it” still.
T. F. D -C .
rom The Ladies’ Companion, March, 1865.