You return me my bond for four thousand. 'twere better
To lend me a thousand and leave me your debtor.
You must find some one else to oblige in that way;
The money's my own which I cannot repay.

Thou Appian Way, of all our roads the queen,
Whom Caesar hallows as Alcides seen,
If thou wouldst know the toils of Hercules,
Hark to the tale and listen — they are these.
He killed the Libyan, won the fruit of gold,
And took her girdle from the Amazon bold;
The lion and the Arcadian boar he slew,
Nor let the hydra's heads spring forth anew;
The brazen stag, the birds of Stymphalus,
He drove away, from hell dragged Cerberus,
And to the Tiber Geryon's cattle brought:
These are the deeds the lesser hero wrought.

The feast you gave me cost but half a crown,
Yet I must call next day in proper trim
And walk before your chair through half the town
To call on ten old hags of aspect grim.
My toga's worn and shabby I admit,
But half a crown won't buy the like of it.

A NTONIUS loves my humble verses, friend,
If to his letter we may credence lend;
The glory of our wise Tolosa he,
Child of repose and bland felicity.
Go then, my book, and be of love a token
Whose strength by journeys long is never broken,
A trivial thing, if one should buy and give,
But from the author value you derive.
Great is the difference 'tween fountain-head
And water stagnant in a trough of lead.

All round the vintage failed; upon the trade
Ruin marched quick — the saving rain yet quicker:
Logwood and Company I hear have made
A hundred hogsheads of their usual liquor.

With jealousy he's like to burst —
What have I done to rouse him so —
Until he cracks with rage accurst?
Rome reads my books — that is the worst
Of all offence to him — and lo!
With jealousy he's like to burst;
But other grudges he has nursed,
I'm pointed out in street and show
Until he cracks with rage accurst
Because the grant is not reversed
That Titus gave me long ago.
With jealousy he's like to burst,

DOCTOR H EROD when caught with a cup in his pocket
Said — " Wine does you harm; if you're wise, you will dock it."

You ask — " Has he any real name of his own,
This person you call Mr Algernon Brown"?
I'm damned if I know: call him Brown, my dear fellows:
I can't bear the blame of your friend's peccadilloes.

When Algernon Brown was a bachelor gay
He was put by the girls at the top of class A;
But his value has sadly decreased since he wed,
And now he appears at the bottom of Z.

To me 'tis filthy strychnine you dispense,
Then ask for wine! Why, damn your impudence!
In Homer, Glaucus for a crazy whim
Exchanges gold for bronze — am I like him?
Give a sweet draught to you and take instead
That bitter stuff? The fool is off his head.
Well take it then — but ere you drink it up
Pour a stiff dose of bromide in the cup!