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And my wish is, in truth, that the best of old
fellows

Should not, on recovering, have cause to be jealous,
But find that, while he has been laid on the shelf,
We've been all of us nearly as mad as himself.
You smile at my hopes-but the Doctors and I,
Are the last that can think the K―ng ever will die.1

A new era's arriv'd, -though you'd hardly believe it

And all things, of course, must be new to receive it. New villas, new fêtes (which ev'n Waithman attends)

I am proud to declare I have no predilections, 3
My heart is a sieve, where some scatter'd affections
Are just danc'd about for a moment or two,
And the finer they are, the more sure to run
through:

Neither feel I resentments, nor wish there should
come ill

To

mortal-except (now I think on't) Beau
Br-mm-1

Who threaten'd last year, in a superfine passion,
To cut me, and bring the old K-ng into fashion.
This is all I can lay to my conscience at present;
When such is my temper, so neutral, so pleasant,

New saddles, new helmets, and—why not new So royally free from all troublesome feelings,

friends?

I repeat it, “New Friends”—for I cannot describe
The delight I am in with this P―rc-v-1 tribe.
Such capering!-Such vapouring!-Such rigour!
-Such vigour!

So little encumber'd by faith in my dealings
(And that I'm consistent the world will allow,
What I was at Newmarket the same I am now).
When such are my merits (you know I hate crack-
ing),

I hope, like the Vender of Best Patent Blacking,
"To meet with the gen'rous and kind approbation

North, South, East, and West, they have cut such “ Of a candid, enlighten'd, and liberal nation."

a figure,

That soon they will bring the whole world round

our ears,

And leave us no friends—but Old Nick and Algiers.

When I think of the glory they've beam'd on
my chains,

'Tis enough quite to turn my illustrious brains.
It is true we are bankrupts in commerce and riches,
But think how we find our Allies in new breeches!
We've lost the warm hearts of the Irish, 'tis granted,
But then we've got Java, an island much wanted,
To put the last lingering few who remain,
Of the Walcheren warriors, out of their pain.
Then how Wellington fights! and how squabbles
his brother!

For Papists the one, and with Papists the other;
One crushing Napoleon by taking a City,
While t'other lays waste a whole Cath'lic Com-
mittee.

Oh deeds of renown!-shall I boggle or flinch,
With such prospects before me? by Jove, not an
inch.

No-let England's affairs go to rack, if they will,
We'll look after th' affairs of the Continent still;
And, with nothing at home but starvation and riot,
Find Lisbon in bread, and keep Sicily quiet.

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By the bye, ere I close this magnificent Letter, (No man, except Pole, could have writ you a

better,)

'Twould please me if those, whom I've humbug'd so long +

With the notion (good men!) that I knew right

from wrong.

Would a few of them join me-mind, only a few—
To let too much light in on me never would do;
But even Grey's brightness shan't make me afraid,
While I've C-md-n and Eld-n to fly to for

shade;

Nor will Holland's clear intellect do us much harm,
While there's W-stm-rel-nd near him to
weaken the charm.

As for Moira's high spirit, if aught can subdue it,
Sure joining with H-rtf-rd and Y-rm-th will

do it!

Between R-d-r and Wh-rt-n let Sheridan sit,
And the fogs will soon quench even Sheridan's wit:
And against all the pure public feeling that glows
Ev'n in Whitbread himself we've a Host in G-rge
R-se!

So, in short, if they wish to have Places, they
may,

And I'll thank you to tell all these matters to Greys,

4" I cannot conclude without expressing the gratification I should feel if some of those persons with whom the early habits of my public life were formed would strengthen my hands, and constitute a part of my government.” — Ibid.

5 "You are authorized to communicate these sentiments to Lord Grey, who, I have no doubt, will make them known to Lord Grenville."- Ibid.

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First you must then, willy-nilly,
Fetch me many an orange lily-
Orange of the darkest dye
Irish G-ff-rd can supply ;-
Choose me out the longest sprig,
And stick it in old Eld-n's wig.

Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy,
Garland gaudy, dull and cool,
To crown the head of L-v-rp-l.
"Twill console his brilliant brows
For that loss of laurel boughs,
Which they suffer'd (what a pity!)
On the road to Paris City.

1 Edward Byrne, the head of the Delegates of the Irish Catholics.

2 The ancients, in like manner, crowned their Lares, or Household Gods. See Juvenal, Sat. 9. iv. 138. — Plutarch, too, tells us that Household Gods were then, as they are now, "much given to War and penal Statutes."-gyvuwòris xai ποινικούς δαιμονας.

1 Certain tinsel imitations of the Shamrock which are distributed by the Servants of Cn House every Patrick's Day.

Next, our C-stl-r-gh to crown, Bring me from the County Down, Wither'd Shamrocks, which have been Gilded o'er, to hide the green (Such as H-df-t brought away

From Pall-Mall last Patrick's day 3)—
Stitch the garland through and through
With shabby threads of every hue ; —
And as, Goddess! -entre nous —
His lordship loves (though best of men)
A little torture, now and then,
Crimp the leaves, thou first of Syrens,
Crimp them with thy curling-irons.

That's enough-away, away—
Had I leisure, I could say
How the oldest rose that grows
Must be pluck'd to deck Old Rose-
How the Doctor's brow should smile
Crown'd with wreaths of camomile.
But time presses - -to thy taste

I leave the rest, so, prithee, haste!

EPIGRAM.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A DOWAGER AND HER MAID ON THE NIGHT OF LORD Y-RM-TH'S FÊTE.

"I WANT the Court Guide," said my lady, "to look "If the House, Seymour Place, be at 30. or

20."

"We've lost the Court Guide, Ma'am, but here's the Red Book,

Where you'll find, I dare say, Seymour Places in plenty!"

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