'High at the head of this gay throng Shone mighty Cæsar's mother; And, like a pine, the shrubs among, Stood Y--k, his favourite brother. 'And brother K--t, too, shew'd his face; And Austria's budding roses,[84] To swell th' attractions of the place, Thrust in their royal noses. 'And Cæsar's glorious sisters came, Each like a butter firkin, A round, unwieldy, greasy dame, With visage gay and smirking. 'And H----d,[86] too, the prince of peers, The monarch of the stables. Who, like a glutton leech, for years Had suck'd the royal tables. 'And H----d's frisky Mar----ss,[85] The very pink of beauty, Came, Cæsar's banquet to caress, And pay her humble duty. 'And then came quibbling Cast----gh,[86] And C----h's proud spousy;[86] And placemen green, and placemen grey, And many a Lady Blowsy. 'But sure some dire mishap befel Red-headed Whiskerandos,[87] Or frolick'd he with wanton belle, In that fam'd street call'd _Chandos_? 'Or had he some contusion gain'd While at the Fives court sparring? Or, murky thought! a scratch obtain'd In some domestic jarring? 'No, truth to tell, for truth will out, Cæsar and this hot stager, Had quarrell'd, as the thing fell out, About some trifling wager. 'Says Redhead, "One to five, this pea (And in the fire he cast it); Will bounce against your Grace's knee, As soon as fire shall blast it." '"Done!" Cæsar cry'd.--The hot pea bounc'd, Outrageously disloyal, And with most trait'rous aim it pounc'd Against the forehead royal. '"Knave!" Cæsar roar'd, and Cæsar look'd With most prodigious fury; And said--"Such pranks shall not be brook'd, No, Redhead, I assure ye!" 'Then Redhead swore his Highness jok'd, And seem'd but to be fluster'd; At which his Grace grew more provok'd, And still more loudly bluster'd. 'And then he d----d the pea so vile, And d----d poor Redhead's folly; Whilst he stood staring all the while, Quite dumb with melancholy. 'And from that hour, as courtiers say, High ran the mutual malice; Nor was hot Redhead, from that day, Seen in the Royal Palace. * * * * * 'Then Cæsar quoth--"My friends, give ear: This Christmas, to my thinking, Is the fit season for good cheer, For frolic, fun, and drinking: '"And, since my Mother will not stay A week for recreation, Our Christmas sports will have, to-day, A sweet anticipation: '"So, pray you, name, some lord or gent, How we may all make merry, How best the moments may be spent, How we dull care may bury."