Here are, or have been, or will be, all your old and new friends in constant expectation of you at Cambridge; yet Christmas is past, and no Scroddles appears.
Weddel attends your call, and Palgrave proud,
—, and Deleval the loud,
For thee does Powell squeeze, and Marriot sputter,
And Glyn cut phizzes, and Tom Neville stutter.
Brown sees thee sitting on his noses tip,
The Widow feels thee in her aching hip,
For thee fat Nanny sighs, and handy Nelly,
And Balguy with a bishop in his belly.
It is true of the two archdeacons. The latter is now here, but goes on Monday. The former comes to take his degree in February. The rector writes to ask whether you are come, that he may do the same. As to Johnny, here he is, divided between the thoughts of **** and marriage. Delaval only waits for a little intreaty. The master, the doctor, the poet, and the president, are very pressing and warm, but none so warm as the coffee-house and I. Come then away.