And smiling at the never ending rhymes;
E'en here or there, I'll be as blest as Jove,
Give me tobacco, and the wine I love."
Applause from Hands the dying accents break
Of stagg'ring sots, who vainly try to speak;
From Milo, him who hangs upon each word,
And in loud praises splits the tortur'd board,
Collects each sentence, ere it's better known,
And makes the mutilated joke his own,
At weekly club to flourish, where he rules