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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


THE TWOPENNY POST-BAG: LETTER 5 by THOMAS MOORE

First Line: MY DEAR LADY -! I'VE BEEN JUST SENDING OUT
Last Line: BE NOT TOO IMPROPER, I THINK I'LL BRING THAT IN.

MY dear Lady -- ! I've been just sending out
About five hundred cards for a snug little rout --
(By the bye, you've seen Rokeby? -- this moment got mine --
The Mail-Coach edition -- prodigiously fine!)
But I can't conceive how, in this very cold weather,
I'm ever to bring my five hundred together;
As, unless the thermometer's near boiling heat,
One can never get half of one's hundreds to meet --
(Apropos -- you'd have laugh'd to see Townsend, last night,
Escort to their chairs, with his staff so polite,
The "three maiden Miseries," all in a fright!
Poor Townsend, like Mercury, filling two posts,
Supervisor of @3thieves@1, and chief usher of @3ghosts!@1)

But, my dear Lady -------! can't you hit on some notion,
At least for one night to set London in motion? --
As to having the R -- g -- nt, @3that@1 show is gone by --
Besides, I've remark'd that (between you and I)
The Marchesa and he, inconvenient in more ways,
Have taken much lately to whispering in doorways;
Which -- considering, you know, dear, the @3size@1 of the two --
Makes a block that one's company @3cannot@1 get through,
And a house such as mine is, with doorways so small,
Has no room for such cumbersome love-work at all! --
(Apropos, though, of love-work -- you've heard it, I hope,
That Napoleon's old Mother's to marry the Pope, --
What a comical pair!) -- but, to stick to my rout,
'Twill be hard if some novelty can't be struck out.
Is there no Algerine, no Kamchatkan, arrived?
No Plenipo Pacha, three-tail'd and ten-wived?
No Russian, whose dissonant consonant name
Almost rattles to fragments the trumpet of Fame?

I remember the time, three or four winters back,
When -- provided their wigs were but decently black --
A few patriot monsters, from Spain, were a sight
That would people one's house for one, night after night.
But -- whether the Ministers @3paw'd@1 them too much --
(And you know how they spoil whatsoever they touch)
Or whether Lord G -- rge (the young man about town)
Has, by dint of bad poetry, written them down --
One has certainly lost one's @3peninsular@1 rage,
And the only stray patriot seen for an age
Has been at such places (think, how the fit cools)
As old Mrs. V ----- n's or Lord L -- v -- rp -- l's!

But, in short, my dear, names like Wintztschitstopschinzoudhoff
Are the only things now make an evening go smooth off --
So, get me a Russian -- till death I'm your debtor --
If he brings the whole alphabet, so much the better.
And -- Lord! if he would but, @3in character@1, sup
Off his fish-oil and candles, he'd quite set me up!
@3Au revoir@1, my sweet girl -- I must leave you in haste --
Little Gunter has brought me the liqueurs to taste.

POSTSCRIPT.

By the bye, have you found any friend that can construe
That Latin account, t'other day, of a Monster?
If we can't get a Russian, and @3that thing@1 in Latin
Be not @3too@1 improper, I think I'll bring that in.



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