I am proud to declare I have no predilections,[10]
My heart is a sieve where some scattered affections
Are just danced about for a moment or two,
And the _finer_ they are, the more sure to run thro';
Neither feel I resentments, nor wish there should come ill
To mortal--except (now I think on't) Beau Brummel,
Who threatened last year, in a superfine passion,
To cut _me_ and bring the old King into fashion.
This is all I can lay to my conscience at present;
When such is my temper, so neutral, so pleasant,
So royally free from all troublesome feelings,
So little encumbered by faith in my dealings
(And that I'm consistent the world will allow,
What I was at Newmarket the same I am now).
When such are my merits (you know I hate cracking),
I hope, like the Vender of Best Patent Blacking,
"To meet with the generous and kind approbation
"Of a candid, enlightened, and liberal nation."
By the by, ere I close this magnificent Letter,
(No man, except Pole, could have writ you a better,)
'Twould please me if those, whom I've humbugged so long[11]
With the notion (good men!) that I knew right from wrong,
Would a few of them join me--mind, only a few--
To let _too_ much light in on me never would do;
But even Grey's brightness shan't make me afraid,
While I've Camden and Eldon to fly to for shade;
Nor will Holland's clear intellect do us much harm,
While there's Westmoreland near him to weaken the charm.
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