He pamper'd the palate by pinching the nose!
An ell he would take if you gave him an inch,
In the shape of a very exorbitant pinch—
The proverb, All's fish to the net that shall come,
Duly directed his finger and thumb.
One day a dragoon en botine, and three crosses,
With a pungent bonne bouche came to treat his proboscis;
Our Scaramouch, sporting his lowest congee,
Smil'd, “Pardonnez moi, du Tabac s'il vousplâit!”
“Volontiers and his box, which, containing a pound,