"That office, friend [6]Christian, must gratis discharge," Nor suffer you, solus, to wander at large, Least strangers, that seldom their censure restrain, Viva voce, shou'd deem you--a person insane: "The use of those flappers, in Swift you may read, "Of them the Laputans, your allies, stood in need; "Whose minds, like to yours, by intense speculations, "Were too much ingross'd to have useful sensations; "And but for those flappers, I think there's no doubt "Their brains 'gainst the posts, they had fairly beat out;" The sum of my doctrine is [7]_point des grimaces Et point de distraction, mais souvenir les graces_. "[k] If you, at my table, shou'd meet Mr. L. "A fatal catastrophy I can foretell," "Your heads, 'gainst each other, you'll merciless hit, "And you'll haggle your fingers, instead of the meat; "'Tis probable too," this deponent here saith, "You both, may in winter, be scalded to death, "By th'hasty infusion of soup boiling hot;"-- But more, on this head, this deponent says not. [i] Page 227. second volume. [j] Page 216. ditto. [k] Page 262. second volume. I oft' from my memory seek to erase An hour, unto you, big with shame and disgrace; But vain the attempt, it will uppermost be, Good heav'n forefend! I the like shou'd e'er see: For certain it is, as I now am alive, Another such shock I cou'd never survive: [8]The fact I allude to you'll easily guess, 'Twas when with some friends of esteem'd _politesse_, With me you once din'd, to my grief be it said, And no little hole in your manners then made: _Blanche mange_, which you doat on, was part of our fare, Abhorr'd! be the minute, when first it came there.-- Henceforth, for your sake, I _Blanche mange_ shall detest, 'Tho of colour the whitest, and flavour the best; For when, you close siege, to a pyramid laid, No respect was to persons, or decency paid: You not only ate, 'till you cou'd eat no more, But with it, disfigur'd your visage all o'er: Your portrait was that, if a likeness you'd have, Of a man ready lather'd, just going to shave: Transported with rage, I cou'd scarce keep my seat, And words, only found, to advise a retreat; And order your servant to wash your face clean, Since so dirty a spectacle never was seen: Where then were the Graces?--that hour sound they slept, Or else on mount Ida a jubilee kept.