I thought my very spleen would burst,
When Fortune hither drove me first;
Was full as hard to please as you,
Nor persons names nor places knew:
But now I act as other folk,
Like prisoners when their gall is broke.
If you have London still at heart,
We'll make a small one here by art;
The difference is not much between
St. James's Park and Stephen's Green:
And Dawson street will serve as well
To lead you thither as Pall-Mall.
Nor want a passage through the palace,
To choque your sight, and raise your malice.
The Deanery-house may well be match'd,
Under correction, with the Thatch'd[1].
Nor shall I, when you hither come,
Demand a crown a quart for stum.
Then, for a middle-aged charmer,
Stella may vie with your Monthermer[2];
She's now as handsome every bit,
And has a thousand times her wit.
The Dean and Sheridan, I hope,
Will half supply a Gay and Pope.
Corbet[3], though yet I know his worth not,
No doubt, will prove a good Arbuthnot.
I throw into the bargain Tim;
In London can you equal him?
What think you of my favourite clan,
Robin[4], and Jack, and Jack and Dan;
- ↑ A famous tavern in St. James's street.
- ↑ Mary duchess of Montague and marchioness of Monthermer, youngest daughter of John duke of Marlborough.
- ↑ Dr. Corbet, afterward dean of St. Patrick's.
- ↑ R. and J. Grattan, and J. and D. Jackson.
