Indeed he scarcely broke his fast
By what he took, but said, at last,
"Old crony, now, I'll tell you what:
I don't admire this lonely spot;
This dreadful, dismal, dirty hole,
Seems more adapted for a mole
Than 'tis for you; Oh! could you see
My residence, how charm'd you'd be.
Instead of bringing up your brood
In wind, and wet, and solitude,