For he talks with such ease and such grace,
That all charm’d to attention we sit,
And he sings with so comic a face,
That our sides are just ready to split.
“B—— is modest enough,
Himself not quite Ph[oe]bus he thinks,
He never does flourish with snuff,
And hock is the liquor he drinks.
And he owns that Ned C——t,[15] the priest,
May to something of honour pretend,