So while the hand sign’d Circulars,
The head might lisp out ‘What is trumps?’
The R—g—t’s brains could we transfer
To some robust man-milliner,
The shop, the shears, the lace, and ribbon,
Would go, I doubt not, quite as glib on;
And, vice versâ, take the pains
To give the P—ce the shopman’s brains,
The only change from thence would flow,
Ribbons would not be wasted so!