In short (not to bore you, even _jure divino_)
We've the same cause in common, John--all but the rhino;
And that vulgar surplus, whate'er it may be,
As you're not used to cash, John, you'd best leave to me.
And so, without form--as the postman won't tarry--
I'm, dear Jack of Tuain,
Yours,
EXETER HARRY.
[1] So spelled in those ancient versicles which John, we understand,
frequently chants:--
"Had every one _Suum_,
You wouldn't have _Tuum_,
But I should have _Meum_,
And sing _Te Deum_."
SONG OF OLD PUCK.
"And those things do best please me,
That befall preposterously."
PUCK Junior, _Midsummer Night's Dream_.
Who wants old Puck? for here am I,
A mongrel imp, 'twixt earth and sky,
Ready alike to crawl or fly;
Now in the mud, now in the air,
And, so 'tis for mischief, reckless where.
As to my knowledge, there's no end to't,
For, where I haven't it, I pretend to't:
And, 'stead of taking a learned degree
At some dull university,
Puck found it handier to commence
With a certain share of impudence,
Which passes one off as learned and clever,
Beyond all other degrees whatever;
And enables a man of lively sconce
To be Master of _all_ the Arts at once.
No matter what the science may be--
Ethics, Physics, Theology,
Mathematics, Hydrostatics,
Aerostatics or Pneumatics--
Whatever it be, I take my luck,
'Tis all the same to ancient Puck;
Whose head's so full of all sorts of wares,
That a brother imp, old Smugden, swears
If I had but of _law_ a little smattering,
I'd then be _perfect_--which is flattering.
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