When about twenty-seven years of age, he renewed his acquaintance with Robert Lloyd, the son of Dr Lloyd, one of the masters of Westminster School, and who had been an early chum of Churchill's. This young man had discovered very promising abilities, alike at Westminster and at Cambridge, and had been appointed usher in his father's seminary; but, sick of the drudgery, and infected with a fierce thirst both for fame and pleasure, had flung himself upon the literary arena. Although far inferior to Churchill in genius, and indeed little better than a clever copyist of his manner, he exerted a very pernicious influence on his friend's conduct. He borrowed inspiration from Churchill, and gave him infamy in exchange. The poet could do nothing by halves. Along with Lloyd, he rushed into a wild career of dissipation. He became a nightly frequenter of the theatres, taverns, and worse haunts. His wife, with whom, after the first year, he never seems to have been happy, instead of checking, outran her husband in extravagance and imprudence. He got deeply involved in debt, and was repeatedly in danger of imprisonment, till Dr Lloyd, his friend's father, nobly stept forward to his relief, persuaded his creditors to accept five shillings in the pound, and himself lent what was required to complete the sum. It is said that, when afterwards Churchill had made money by the sale of his poems, he voluntarily paid the whole of the original debt. Along with the new love of indulgence, there had arisen in his bosom the old love of verse. Stimulated by intercourse with Lloyd, Colman, B. Thornton, and other wits of the period, he had written a poem, in Hudibrastic rhyme, entitled "The Bard." This he offered to one Waller, a bookseller in Fleet Street, who rejected it with scorn. In this feeling Churchill seems afterwards to have shared, as he never would consent to its publication. Not at all discouraged, he sat down and wrote a satire entitled "The Conclave," directed against the Dean and Chapter of Westminster,--Dr Zachary Pearce, a favourite of Churchill's ire, being then Dean. This would have been published but for the fear of legal proceedings. It was extremely personal and severe. His third effort was destined to be more successful. This was "The Rosciad," written, it is said, after two months' close attendance on the theatres. This excessively clever satire he offered to various booksellers, some say for twenty pounds, others for five guineas. It was refused, and he had to print it at his own expense. It appeared, without his name, in March 1761. Churchill now, like Byron, "awoke one morning and found himself famous." A few days convinced him and all men that a decided hit had been made, and that a strong new satirist had burst, like a comet, into the sky-- "With fear of change perplexing" players.