Should e’er my eyes delight to look
On aught alive save John Horne Tooke,
Doom me to ridicule and ruin,
In the coarse hug[[99]] of Indian Bruin!”
He spoke;[[100]] and to the left and right,
Norfolk hiccupp’d with delight.
Tooke,[[101]] his bald head gently moving,
On the sweet patriot’s drunken eyes
His wine-empurpled lips applies,
And thus returns in accents loving: