Like that of which she moulded him.
The meanest guest that graced his board
Was there the freest of the free,
His bumper toast when Peter poured,
And passed it round with THREE TIMES THREE.

He kept at true good humour's mark
The social flow of pleasure's tide:
He never made a brow look dark,
Nor caused a tear, but when he died.
No sorrow round his tomb should dwell:
More pleased his gay old ghost would be,
For funeral song, and passing bell,
To hear no sound but THREE TIMES THREE.

(_Hammering of knuckles and glasses and shouts of bravo!_)

_Mr Panscope._
(_Suddenly emerging from a deep reverie._) I have heard, with the most
profound attention, every thing which the gentleman on the other side
of the table has thought proper to advance on the subject of human
deterioration; and I must take the liberty to remark, that it augurs a
very considerable degree of presumption in any individual, to set
himself up against the _authority_ of so many great men, as may be
marshalled in metaphysical phalanx under the opposite banners of the
controversy; such as Aristotle, Plato, the scholiast on Aristophanes,
St Chrysostom, St Jerome, St Athanasius, Orpheus, Pindar, Simonides,
Gronovius, Hemsterhusius, Longinus, Sir Isaac Newton, Thomas Paine,
Doctor Paley, the King of Prussia, the King of Poland, Cicero,
Monsieur Gautier, Hippocrates, Machiavelli, Milton, Colley Cibber,