Oh you, who in all names can tickle the town,
Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore, or Tom Brown,
For hang me if I know of which you may most brag,
Your Quarto two-pounds, or your Twopenny Post Bag;
...
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hough with cold I have nearly my death got, Must put on my breeches, and wait on the Heathcote; But to-morrow, at four, we will both play the Scurra, And you'll be Catullus, the Regent Mamurra. a fine poem. tony