Simpkin the sonneteer? Ten thousand pounds
Give point to his effusion—by so much
Leave me the richer and the poorer you
After our night's play; who 's content the most,
If, you, or Simpkin?"
So the polished snob.
The elder man, refinement every inch
From brow to boot-end, quietly replies:
"Simpkin 's no name I know. I had my whim."
"Ay, had you! And such things make friendship thick.