“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;