In Grub Street garret oft reposed
With eyes contemplative half-closed.
Cobwebs around in antique glory,
Chief of his household inventory,
Suggested to his roving brains
Amazing multitude of scenes.
"This batch," said he, "of murder-spinners
Who toil their brains out for their dinners,
Though base, too long unsung has lain
By kindred brethren of Duck Lane,