and yet, whate’er absurdity the brains

may hatch, it ne’er wants wet-nurses to suckle it!

or dry ones, like a hen, to take the pains

to lead the nudity abroad, and chuckle it;

no whim so stupid but some fool will buckle it

to jingle bell-like on his empty head,

no mental mud—but some will knead and knuckle it,

[pg 317]

and fancy they are making fancy-bread;—

no ass has written, but some ass has read.

no dolts could lead if others did not follow ’em.

no hahnémann could give decillionth drops,

if any man could not be got to swallow ’em;

but folly never comes to such full stops.

as soon, then, as the mother made such swaps

of all lorenzo’s meanings, heads and tails,

the father seized upon her malaprops—

“my girl down areas—of a night! ’ods nails!

i’ll stick the scoundrel on his area-rails!”