"
"They say Pacchierotti, the famous soprano singer, is ill, and _they
say_ Lady Mary Duncan, his frightful old protectress, has made him so
by her _caresses denaturees_. A little envy of the new woman,
Allegrante, has probably not much mended his health, for
Pacchierotti, dear creature, is envious enough. I was, however,
turning over Horace yesterday, to look for the expression _tenui
fronte_[1], in vindication of my assertion to Johnson that low
foreheads were classical, when the 8th Ode of the First Book of
Horace struck me so, I could not help imitating it while the scandal
was warm in my mind:
1.
"'He's sick indeed! and very sick,
For if it is not all a trick
You'd better look about ye.
Dear Lady Mary, prythee tell
Why thus by loving him too well
You kill your Pacchierotti?
2.
Nor sun nor dust can he abide,
Nor careless in a snaffle ride,
The steed we saw him mount ill.
_You_ stript him of his manly force,
When tumbling headlong from his horse
He pressed the plains of Fonthill.[2]
3.
Why the full opera should he shun?
Where crowds of critics smiling run,
To applaud their Allegrante.
Why is it worse than viper's sting,
To see them clap, or hear her sing?
Surely he's envious, ain't he?
4.
Forbear his house, nor haunt his bed
With that strange wig and fearful head,
Then, though he now so ill is,
We o'er his voice again may doze,
When, cover'd warm with women's clothes,
He acts a young Achilles.
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