To Drury went, to see a play—
Kynaston was to act a queen—
But to his tonsor he’d not been:
He was a mirth-inspiring soul
Who lov’d to quaff the flowing bowl—
And on his way the wight had met
A roaring bacchanalian set;
With whom he to “the Garter” hies,
Regardless how time slyly flies.
And while he circulates the glass,