LXXVIII
“Dropp’d my gold watch, and kill’d a kettledrum—
It went for apoplexy—foolish folks!—
Left it to pay the piper—a good sum—
(I’ve got a conscience, maugre people’s jokes,)
To scrape a little favour; ’gan to coax
Her Highness’ pug-dog—got a sharp rebuff—
She wish’d a game at whist—made three revokes—
Turn’d from myself, her partner, in a huff;
His Majesty will know her temper time enough.