Letters of John Keats to His Family and FriendsKeats, John
General
Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends
Keats, John
Keats, John, 1795-1821 -- Correspondence; Poets, English -- 19th century -- Correspondence
fustilugs, a truss, a long lean rawbone, a skeleton, a sneaker (_si
qua latent meliora puta_), and to thy judgment looks like a Mard in a
lanthorn, whom thou couldst not fancy for a world, but hatest,
lothest, and wouldst have spit in her face, or blow thy nose in her
bosome, _remedium amoris_ to another man, a dowdy, a slut, a scold, a
nasty, rank, rammy, filthy, beastly quean, dishonest peradventure,
obscene, base, beggerly, rude, foolish, untaught, peevish, Irus'
daughter, Thersite's sister, Grobian's schollar; if he love her once,
he admires her for all this, he takes no notice of any such errors,
or imperfections of body or minde."
There's a dose for you. Fire!! I would give my favourite leg to have
written this as a speech in a play. With what effect could Matthews
pop-gun it at the pit! This I think will amuse you more than so much
poetry. Of that I do not like to copy any, as I am afraid it is too mal a
propos for you at present; and yet I will send you some, for by the time
you receive it, things in England may have taken a different turn. When I
left Mr. Abbey on Monday evening, I walked up Cheapside, but returned to
put some letters in the post, and met him again in Bucklesbury. We walked
together through the Poultry as far as the baker's shop he has some
concern in--He spoke of it in such a way to me, I thought he wanted me to
make an offer to assist him in it. I do believe if I could be a hatter I
might be one. He seems anxious about me. He began blowing up Lord Byron
while I was sitting with him: "However, may be the fellow says true now
and then," at which he took up a magazine, and read me some extracts from
Don Juan (Lord Byron's last flash poem), and particularly one against
literary ambition. I do think I must be well spoken of among sets, for
Hodgkinson is more than polite, and the coffee German endeavoured to be
very close to me the other night at Covent Garden, where I went at half
price before I tumbled into bed. Every one, however distant an
acquaintance, behaves in the most conciliating manner to me. You will see
I speak of this as a matter of interest. On the next sheet I will give you
a little politics.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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