Oh, bother interruptions, when a chap
Has something most particular to say!
My mother calls—there must be some mishap,
So I must leave it for another day;
I should be whacked severely did I stay,
And that would be a pity you must own,
And so 'twere better for me to obey
With much regret at leaving you alone,
But 'tis a great necessity as I have shewn.
CXV.
I'm hungry too, and I must feed sometimes
As other folks accustomed are to do;
I'm not of those who fatten on their rhymes,
My reader kind, between myself and you;
So this abruptly-ended interview
With circumstances such you will forgive,
The thread of my narration I'll renew
To-morrow or the next day if I live,
That is of course if your attention you will give.
CXVI.
Ta-ta for now, and may you ever be
The good forbearing friend I knew you once,
And may you yet proceed indulgently,
Permit my story and forgive the dunce,
In spite of these most troublesome affronts;
Let's see how long since last I flew my kite,
Yes, certainly it must be some few months,
And here I am again at it to-night,
It's enough to tax the patience of a Bedlamite.
CXVII.
You know the author for you see him here,
He weeps or smiles as here he doth rehearse,
Oh, critic, stay, and drop but Pity's tear,
If not for him, the author—for his verse:
Full many have done better but few worse,
And surely he's the very first to know it,
Of course there's much to talk of when converse,
Like friend and friend, the critic and his poet,
But now I cannot stay, I'm in a hurry, blow it!
