Or ev’n to batten
On Ignes Fatui would never fatten,
His visage seem’d to say,—that very odd is,—
But still his master the same tune ran on,
“I can’t come down,—go to the parlour, John,
And say I’m supping with the heavenly bodies.”
“The heavenly bodies!” echoed John, “Ahem!”
His mind still full of famishing alarms,
“’Zooks, if your Honour sups with them,
In helping, somebody must make long arms!”