'"It is well known that, to an excessive love of music, he added much real taste as an amateur, and some power as a performer; but his execution was not particularly good, and Mr. Francis, Sir Philip's son, with whom he frequently sang, was, sometimes, comically struck by the loudness of his voice, and his peculiar manner. On one of the above-mentioned evenings at the Pavilion, his Royal Highness, after dinner, having proposed music, and being actually engaged in performing with Mr. Francis and some other person the pretty hunting trio of 'Azioli,' of which the burden is _Ritorneremo a Clori al tramontar del di_, Mr. Francis suddenly found the full face of the Prince, somewhat heated by the eagerness of his performance, in immediate contact with his own; and this circumstance, combined with that of the loud bass tones in which his Royal Highness was singing the words _Ritorneremo a Clori_, striking him in some ludicrous point of view, he became absolutely unable to resist the effect on his nerves, and burst out laughing. The Prince evidently perceived that his own singing had produced the unseasonable laughter; but, instead of showing a displeasure at a rudeness which, however involuntary, would have been resented by many far less illustrious persons, he only called the offender to order with the words 'Come, come, Philip!' his countenance betraying, at the same time, a strong inclination to join in the laugh himself; and the trio proceeded to a conclusion. Sir Philip (adds his daughter) by his original humour, and great powers of conversation, was, often, the life of the Pavilion; though his temperate habits made the excesses occasionally committed at the Prince's table distasteful to him; and his royal host, perceiving him ready to drop asleep when the revels were long protracted, would say, 'We must carry grandpapa away to bed.'"' The same ready good humour is shown in a pleasant scene which took place at the Pavilion. Cricket was often played on the lawn, and the dinner which followed was served in a marquee. On one of these occasions the Duke of York and Sheridan fell into dispute on some point of the game. Sheridan at length angrily told the Duke 'that he was not to be talked out of his opinion there, or anywhere else; and that, at play, all men were on a par.' The Duke was evidently about to make some peculiarly indignant reply, when the Prince stood up and addressed them both.