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Kings, courtiers, "statesmen"—save the name!
Bold Duchesses, more void of shame
Than playhouse Moll or Nelly;
Intriguing placemen—all the crew
Of ladies frail, false lords, we view,
Gazing Pepys's magic-lantern through
From dust and ashes sally!
Bold Duchesses, more void of shame
Than playhouse Moll or Nelly;
Intriguing placemen—all the crew
Of ladies frail, false lords, we view,
Gazing Pepys's magic-lantern through
From dust and ashes sally!
Our diarist was not a saint,
He did not 'scape the age's taint,
In him was naught heroic:
A bribe he scrupled not to touch,
He loved fair women far too much,
His gormandising too was such
As would have shocked a stoic.
He did not 'scape the age's taint,
In him was naught heroic:
A bribe he scrupled not to touch,
He loved fair women far too much,
His gormandising too was such
As would have shocked a stoic.
We know him as none else we know—
Far better even than Rousseau,
Spite of his strange revealings;
Not Byron's self we know so well,
From what he did and did not tell,
(His soul a mingled heaven and hell!)
Confessions and concealings.
Far better even than Rousseau,
Spite of his strange revealings;
Not Byron's self we know so well,
From what he did and did not tell,
(His soul a mingled heaven and hell!)
Confessions and concealings.
Few have, like Pepys, the pluck to own
E'en to their very selves alone
Their little peccadilloes;
Though quick our neighbours' faults to find,
We're to our own worse failings blind,
Nor to confess them are inclined
E'en to our friendly pillows.
E'en to their very selves alone
Their little peccadilloes;
Though quick our neighbours' faults to find,
We're to our own worse failings blind,
Nor to confess them are inclined
E'en to our friendly pillows.
We know he'd sins both great and small
To answer for, but, after all,
Pray tell me who's without them?
To answer for, but, after all,
Pray tell me who's without them?
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