Soon, if the tide of poeshie continues, I’ll send you a whole lot to damn. You never said thank you for the handsome tribute addressed to you from Apemama;[6] such is the gratitude of the world to the God-sent poick. Well, well:—“Vex not thou the poick’s mind, With thy coriaceous ingratitude, The P. will be to your faults more than a little blind, And yours is a far from handsome attitude.” Having thus dropped into poetry in a spirit of friendship, I have the honour to subscribe myself, Sir, your obedient humble servant,
Silas Wegg.
I suppose by this you will have seen the lad—and his feet will have been in the Monument—and his eyes beheld the face of George.[7] Well!
There is much eloquence in a well!
I am, Sir,
Yours
The Epigrammatist