“He!” cried the dame, grimacing her disgust,
“I like him?—yes—as any body must
An infidel that scoffs at God and Devil:
Didn’t he bring you Bonaparty’s bust?
Lord! when he calls I hardly can be civil—
My favourite was always Mr. Neville.
“Lorenzo?—I should like, of earthly things,
To see him hanging forty cubits high;
Doesn’t he write like Captain Rocks and Swings?
Nay, in this very letter bid you try