“His Majesty—the Many!”

Plain folks may be surprised, and stare,[[165]]

As much surprised as Bob Adair

At Russia’s wooden houses;

And Russian snows, that lie so thick;[[166]]

And Russian boors[[167]] that daily kick,

With barbarous foot, their spouses.

What joy, when drunk, at midnight’s hour,[[168]]

To stroll through Covent Garden’s bow’r,

Its various charms exploring;