Now Majesty, alive to knowledge, took
A very pretty memorandum-book,
With gilded leaves of asses’ skin so white;
And in it lightly began to write:—
Mem. A charming place beneath the grates
For roasting chestnuts or potates.
Mem. ’Tis hops that give a bitterness to beer—
Hops grown in Kent, says Whitbread, and elsewhere.
Queen. Is there no cheaper stuff? where does it dwell?
Would not horse-aloes do as well?