dear Moore, "there

was

a time"—I have heard of your tricks, when "you was campaigning at the "King of Bohemy."

[1]

I am much mistaken if, some fine London spring, about the year 1815, that time does not come again. After all, we must end in marriage; and I can conceive nothing more delightful than such a state in the country, reading the county newspaper, etc., and kissing one's wife's maid. Seriously, I would incorporate with any woman of decent demeanour to-morrow—that is, I would a month ago, but, at present, ——

Why

[don't]

you "parody that Ode?"—Do you think

[2]

I should be