Lord Clare's nephew.
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eft alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf,And "nobody with me at sea but myself,"[3]Though I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty,Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good ven'son pasty,Were things that I never disliked in my life,Though clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife.So next day, in due splendour 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,(A chair-lumber'd closet, just twelve feet by nine,)My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumbWith tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come."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 partyWith two full as clever, and ten times as hearty.The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew;They're both of them merry, and authors like you.The one writes the 'Snarler,' the other the 'Scourge:'Some think he writes 'Cinna'—he owns to 'Panurge.'"While thus he described them by trade and by name,They entered, and dinner was served as they came.At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen,At the bottom was tripe in a swingeing tureen;At the sides there was spinach and pudding made hot;In the middle a place where the Pasty—was not.Now, my Lord, as for tripe, it's my utter aversion,And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian;So there I sat stuck like a horse in a pound,While the bacon and liver went merrily round:But what vexed me most was that d——d Scottish rogue,With his long-winded speeches, his smiles, and his brogue;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.""Oho!" quoth my friend, "he'll come on in a trice:He's keeping a corner for something that's nice;There's a Pasty"—"A Pasty!" repeated the Jew,"I don't care if I keep a corner for't too."
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