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As in some Irish houses, where things are so fo,
One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show :
But for eating a rasher of what they take pride in,
They'd as soon think of eating the pan it is fry'd in.
But hold let me pause-don't I hear you pronounce,
This tale of the bacon's a damnable bounce ;
Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may try,
By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly.

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But, my lord, it's no bounce: I protest in my turn,
It's a truth-and your lordship may ask Mr. Burn. *
To go on with my tale-as I gaz'd on the haunch;
I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch,
So I cut it, and sent it to Reynold's undreft,
To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd beft.
Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose ;
'Twas a neck and a breast that might rival Monro's:
But in parting with these I was puzzled again,
With the how, and the who, and the where, and the

There's H-d, and C-y, and Herth, and H-ff,
I think they love venison, I know they love beef,
There's my countryman Higgins-Oh! let him alone,
For making a blunder, or picking a bone.
But hang it-to poets who feldom can eat,
Your very good mutton's a very good treat ;
Such dainties to them their health it might hurt,
It's like sending them ruffles, wanting a shirt.
While thus I debated in reverie center'd,
An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd;
An underbred, fine-spoken fellow was he,
And he smil'd as he look'd at the venison and me.
What have we got here ?-Why this is good cating!
Your own I suppose or is it in waiting?

* Lord Clare's Nephew.


Why whose should it be? cried I, with a Aounc.

these things often ;-but that was a bounce ; Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the nation, Are pleas'd to be kind-but I hate oftentation.

If that be the cafe then, cried he, very gay, I'm glad, I have taken this house in my way. To-morrow

you take a poor dinner with me ; No words-- I infilt on't-- precisely at three: We'll have Johnfon, and Burke, all the wits will be there, My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my lord Clare. And, now that I think on't, as I am a finner ! We wanted this venison to make out the dinner. What say you-a pasty, it hall

, and it muit, And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for cruit. Here, porter—this venison with me to Mile-end ; No stirring I beg—my dear friendry dear friend! Thus snatching his hat, he brush'd off like the wind, And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, And nobody with me at sea but myself ;' Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty, Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison afty, Were things that I never disliked in my life, Tho'clogg’d with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife. So next day in due fplendor to make my approach, I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach.

When come to the place where we all were to dine. (1 chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine :) My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite

dumb, With tidings that Johnson, and Burke would not come,

* See the letters that passed between his

royal highness Henry duke of Cumberland, and lady Grosvenor 1769.


For I knew it, he cried, both eternally fail,
The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale ;
But no matter I'll warrant we'll make up the party,
With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty:
The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew,
They both of them merry and authors like you ;
The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge ;
Some thinks he writes Cinna-he owns to Panurge.
While thus he describ’d them by trade and by name,
They enter d and dinner was serv'd as they came.

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At the top a fried liver, and bacon were seen, At the bottom was tripe in a swinging tureen ; At the sides there was spinnage and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pasty-was not. Now, my lord, as for tripe it's my utter averfion, Anil your

bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian ; So there I fat stuck, like a horse in a pound, While the bacon and liver went merrily round: But what vex'd me most, was that did Scottish' rogue, With his long-winded speeches, his fmiles and his

brogue, And, madam, quoth he, may this bit be niy poison, it prettier dinuer I never fet

eyes on ; Pray a slice of your liver, tho'may I be curst, But l've eat at your tripe till I'm ready to burst. The tripe, quoth the Jew, with his chocolate check, I could dine on this tripe seven days in the week : I like these here dinners so pretty and finall ; But

your friend there the doctor, cats nothing at all. Omuh! quoth my friend he'll come on in a trice, He's keeping a corner for fuinething that's nice : There's a paity! -- palty' repeated the jew :

I don't care if i keep a corner fur't too.
What the dei! mun, a party ! :v-echo'd the Scut;
Though splicing I'll kill keep a corner for that.
We'll all keep a corner, the lady cried out.
We'll all keep a corner, was echu'd about.

While thus we refolv'd, and the pary delay'd,
With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid;
A visage so fad, and so pale with afright,
Wak-d Priam in drawing his curtain by night.
But we quickly found out, for who could miltake her,
That the came with some terrible news from the baker:
And so it fell cut, for that negligent soven,
Had shit out the pasty in Mutting the oven.
Sad Fhilomel thus-but let fimilies drop-
And now that I think on't, the story may Atop.
To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd,
To send such good verses to one of your taste;
You've got an odd something a kind of discerning

A reliha taite-sicken'd over by learning;
At least, its your temper as very well known,

you think very slightly of all that's your own :
So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss,
You may make a mistake, and think lightly of this.

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