Conceited, simple, rash, and vain, Comes lib'ral master G-e,{56} A dandy, half-fledged exquisite, Who paid nine thousand pounds a night To female Giovanni. Reader, I think I hear you say, "What pleasure had he for his pay?" Upon my word, not any; For soon as V-t-s got the cash, She set off with a splendid dash From Op'ra to Paris; Left Cl-t and this simple fool,{67} Who no doubt's been an easy tool, To spend it with Charles H-s. See, Carolina comes in view, A Lamb, from merry Melbourne's ewe, Who scaped the fatal knife. H-ll-d's blue stocking rib appears, Who makes amends in latter years For early cause of strife. Catullus George, the red-hair'd bard, Whose rhymes, pedantic, crude, and hard, He calls translations, Follows the fair; a nibbling mouse From Westminster, by Cam Hobhouse Expell'd his station. Now twilight, with his veil of gray, The stars of fashion frights away The carriage homeward rolls along To music-party, cards and song, 56 A very singular adventure, which occurred in 1823. The enamoured swain, after settling an annuity of seven hundred pounds per annum upon the fair inconstant, had the mortification to find himself abandoned on the very night the deeds were completed, the lady having made a precipitate retreat, with a more favoured lover, to Paris. The affair soon became known, and some friends interfered, when the deeds were cancelled. 57 Captain citizen Cl-t, an exquisite of the first order, for a long time the favourite of the reigning sultana. ~196~~ And many a gay delight. The Goths of Essex-street may groan,{58} Turn up their eyes, and inward moan, They dare not here intrude; Dare not attack the rich and great, The titled vicious of the state, The dissolute and lewd. Vice only is, in some folks' eyes, Immoral, when in rags she lies, By poverty subdued; But deck her forth in gaudy vest, With courtly state and titled crest, She's every thing that's good. "Doth Kalpho break the Sabbath-day? Why, Kalpho hath no funds to pay; How dare he trespass then? How dare he eat, or drink, or sleep, Or shave, or wash, or laugh, or weep, Or look like other men?" My lord his concerts gives, 'tis true, The Speaker holds his levee too, And Fashion cards and dices; But these are trifles to the sin Of selling apples, joints, or gin--