The Honey-Moon of Fox and Tooke.
Donec gratus eram tibi.
Fox.—Since Fox of his Tooke is possest,
No sorrows my bosom can harass;
What Director was ever so blest?
I’m greater, far greater than Barras.
Tooke.—If Fox to his consort is true,
And this blest Coalition sincere,
I’ll engage as a private with you,
Nor envy thy fame, Robespierre.
Fox.—You once were the worst of my foes,
E’en Pitt I detested not more,
When you dar’d my Election oppose,
And eternal antipathy swore.
Tooke.—Not to you was my hatred confin’d,
Your father I styled “The Defaulter,”
Drew a portrait of both, and consign’d
Both father and son to the halter.
Fox.—Drive these hated reflections away;
For you I would gladly resign.
Jockey Norfolk, big Bedford, and Grey;
But they answer your purpose and mine.
Tooke.—Whate’er you attempt or intend,
I am yours, and will bring at your call,
Binns, Gurney, Scott, Ferguson, Frend,
Corresponding Society—all.
Both.—Thus reconcil’d, fond, and delighted,
Together we’ll ride in the storm,
While Jacobin Clubs, all united,
Make a radical, perfect Reform.—Ed.]
