The page that bears that is a rare one indeed.…
His nature’s a glass of champagne with the foam on ’t,
As tender as Fletcher, as witty as Beaumont;
So his best things are done in the flush of the moment:
If he wait, all is spoiled: he may stir it and shake it,
But, the fixed air once gone, he can never remake it.…
He’d have been just the fellow to sup at the Mermaid,
Cracking jokes at rare Ben, with an eye to the bar-maid,
His wit running up as canary ran down,—
The topmost bright bubble on the wave of The Town.”