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Madam! my Debt to Nature paid
I thought the Grave with hallow'd Shade
Would now protect my Name,
Yet there in vain I seek Repose,
My Friends each a little Fault disclose<
And murder Johnson's Fame;

First Boswell with officious Care
Shew'd me as a Man would shew a Bear
And called himself my Friend.
Sir John {Hawkins} shew'd my hearse
And C... {John Courtenay} pester'd me with verse
You torture without end.

When Streatham spread its pleasant board,
I opened learnng's valued hoard,
And as I feasted, prosed.
Good things I said, good things I eat
I gave you knowledge for your meat,
And thought th' account was closed.

If obligations I still owed,
You sold each item to the crowd,
I suffered by the tale.
For God's sake, Madam, let me rest,
No longer vex your quondam guest:
I'll pay you for your ale.