"I see, sir, I see, sir, what 'tis that you're hatching;
But mocking, you see, sir, is not always catching."
There can be no doubt as to the perfect genuineness of these marvellous efforts of the human intellect; the word was given and the "numbers came," gushing fresh and sparkling from the fount. His companions at the table, and the observations that had fallen from them, afforded not unfrequently matter for his good-natured muse. But as often a subject impossible in any way to have been anticipated, was proposed by one of the company, generally the most incredulous, and with scarce a moment's consideration, he would place himself at the piano-forte, run over the keys, and break forth into a medley of merriment, of which, unhappily, no idea can be conveyed, for the benefit and conversion of the sceptic.
The names of those present were frequently woven into the rhyme, or made to supply points to the verse. He is said once to have encountered a pair of most unmanageable patronymics, those of Sir Moses Ximenes, and Mr. Rosenagen, a young Dane; the line antiphonetic to the former has escaped us; the latter, reserved till near the conclusion, was thus played upon:—
"Yet more of my Muse is required,
Alas! I fear she is done;
But no! like a fiddler that's tired,
I'll Rosen-agen, and go on."