'"
"Did any one, that he was _happy_, cry--
Johnson would tell him plumply, 'twas a lie.
A Lady told him she was really so;
On which he sternly answer'd, 'Madam, no!
'Sickly you are, and ugly--foolish, poor;
'And therefore can't he happy, I am sure.
''Twould make a fellow hang himself, whose ear
'Were, from such creatures, forc'd such stuff to hear.'"
BOZZY.
"Lo, when we landed on the Isle of Mull,
The megrims got into the Doctor's skull:
With such bad humours he began to fill,
I thought he would not go to Icolmkill:
But lo! those megrims (wonderful to utter!)
Were banish'd all by tea and bread and butter!"
At last they get angry, and tell each other a few
home truths:--
BOZZY.
"How could your folly tell, so void of truth,
That miserable story of the youth,
Who, in your book, of Doctor Johnson begs
Most seriously to know if cats laid eggs!"
MADAME PIOZZI.
"_Who_ told of Mistress Montagu the lie--
So palpable a falsehood?--Bozzy, fie!"
BOZZY.
"_Who_, madd'ning with an anecdotic itch,
Declar'd that Johnson call'd his mother _b-tch?_"
MADAME PIOZZI.
"_Who_, from M'Donald's rage to save his snout,
Cut twenty lines of defamation out?"
BOZZY.
"_Who_ would have said a word about Sam's wig,
Or told the story of the peas and pig?
Who would have told a tale so very flat,
Of Frank the Black, and Hodge the mangy cat?"
MADAME PIOZZI.
"Good me! you're grown at once confounded _tender_;
Of Doctor Johnson's fame a _fierce_ defender:
I'm sure you've mention'd many a pretty story
Not much redounding to the Doctor's glory.
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