Telly: Gladdie, Gladdie, lowland laddie, pardon here to seek I’ve sped,
Willie: Telly, Telly, quite Pall-Mally, have you been in all you wrote,
Telly: Willie, Willie, I was silly; on the Turk no more I’ll dote.
Willie: You I’ll pardon, ere you harden! Go, and don’t your word forget.
Telly: Joseph Moses, too, supposes he may be Sir Joseph yet,
If right gaily, we now daily, puff the Muscovs up, and you?
Willie: You will see, T., how ’twill be, T.; trust, meantime, in what I do!
Solo.—Telly.
Fare thee well, and if for ever,
Thou can’st say I’ve not been clever;