“Heavens, what a dire confusion beauty makes!
The Horse Guards tremble, and old Windsor shakes.
Like bees, the mob around St Stephen’s swarms;
And every street and alley feels alarms:
Men, women, coaches, gigs, each other jostle;
And thou the cause of all this horrid bustle!
Hotels and tap-rooms sound with mingled din,
And every coffee-house is on the grin.
From morn to eve, from eve to midnight dark,
Naught strikes the ear but ‘Duke and Mistress Clarke.’