Tho' the Muse had deny'd me so often before, <br />I ventur'd this Day to invoke her once more. <br />She ask'd what I wanted; I said, with Delight, <br />Your Lordship had promis'd to sup here To--night; <br />That on an Occasion so much to my Honour, <br />I hop'd she'd excuse me for calling upon her. <br /> <br />To this she reply'd, with Disdain in her Looks: <br />If that be the Case, go summon your Cooks. <br />I told her in Answer, How little you eat; <br />That in vain I should hope to regale you with Meat; <br />That she knew, Wit and Humour to you were a Feast, <br />Who had, tho' no Stomach, an excellent Taste. <br /> <br />This calm'd her Resentment; she paus'd for a while-- <br />Then the Goddess, propitious, reply'd with a Smile: <br />If with Humour and Wit you would have him delighted. <br />What need I be call'd?--Let the Dean be invited. <br />The Bus'ness is done, if with him you prevail; <br />For a Boyle, and a Swift, will each other regale.<br /><br />Mary Barber<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-right-hon-the-earl-of-orrery-on-his-promise-to-sup-with-the-author/
