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304 Oh, Simon! how we envy thee,
 * When belles that long have frowned on all,

Greet thee with smiles, and bend the knee,
 * To beg you’ll help them “give a ball!”

Though it is ungenteel to think,
 * For thought affects the nerves and brain!

Yet oft we think of thee, and drink
 * Thy health in Lynch’s best champagne.

’Tis pity that thy signal merit
 * Should slumber in so low a station;

Act, Simon, like a lad of spirit,
 * And thou, in time, mayst rule the nation!

Break up your Saturdays “at home,”
 * Cut Guinea and your sable clan,

Buy a new eye-glass and become
 * A dandy and a gentleman.

You must speak French, and make a bow,
 * Ten lessons are enough for that;

And Leavenworth44 will teach you how
 * To wear your corsets and cravat.

Knock all your chambers into one,
 * Hire fiddlers, glasses, Barons too,

And then invite the whole haut-ton;
 * Ask Hosack, he can tell you who.

The great that are, and—wish to be,
 * Within your brilliant rooms will meet,