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George Gordon Byron - To Thomas Moore : Written The Evening Before His Visit To Mr. Leigh Hunt In Horsemonger Lane Gaol, M
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Oh you, who in all names can tickle the town,
Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore, or Tom Brown,
For hang me if I know of which you may most brag,
Your Quarto two-pounds, or your Two­penny Post Bag;
 
But now to my letter-to yours `tis an answer-- 
To-morrow be with me, as soon as you can, sir,
All ready and dress`d for proceeding to spunge on
(According to compact) the wit in the dungeon--
 Pray Phobus at length our political ma­lice
May not get us lodgings within the same palace! 
I suppose that to-night you`re engaged with some codgers,
And for Sotheby`s Blues have deserted Sam Rogers;
And I, though with cold I have nearly my death got,
Must put on my breeches, and wait on the Heathcote;
But to-morrow, at four, we will both play the Scurra,
And you`ll be Catullus, the Regent Mamurra.
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