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My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb, With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; "For I knew it," he cry'd; "both eternally fail,
The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale;
They're both of them merry, and authors like you;
At the sides there was spinage and pudding made hot;
But what vext me most, was that d......'d Scottish
With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his
And, "Madam," quoth he, "may this bit be my poison, A prettier dinner I never set eyes on;
Pray a slice of your liver, though may I be curst, But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst." "The tripe," quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek, "I could dine on this tripe seven days in a week: I like these here dinners so pretty and small; But your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at all." "Oh ho!" quoth my friend, "he'll come on in à trice, He's keeping a corner for something that's nice: There's a pasty"...." A pasty!" repeated the Jew; "I do'n't care, if I keep a corner for't too."
"What the de'il, mon, a pasty!" re-echo'd the Scot;
Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for that." "We'll all keep a corner," the lady cry'd out;
“We'll all keep a corner," was echo'd about.
While thus we resolv'd, and the pasty delay'd,
With looks that quite petrify'd, enter'd the maid;
A vissage so sad, and so pale with affright,
Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night.
But we quickly found out, (for who could mistake her?)
And so it fell out, that the negligent sloven
Sad Philomel thus....but let similies drop....
And now that I think on't, the story may stop.
At least, it's your temper, as very well known,
You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.