And share the widow's homelier pottage:
At his approach complaint grew mild;
And when his hand unbarr'd the shutter,
The clammy lips of fever smiled
The welcome, which they could not utter.
He always had a tale for me
Of Julius Caesar, or of Venus;
From him I learn'd the rule of three,
Cat's cradle, leap-frog, and Quae genus:
I used to singe his powder'd wig,