| Citation |
VGW(PA.737.002
7-14 Jan 1737:31 (24)
London, Oct 2. . . Prince Punch's dying speech, calculated
for a friendly society of worthy gentlemen, who met on
Tuesday night at Jonah's coffee house in Canterbury.
Attend my sons, and you my friends draw near,
And on my last remains, bestow a tear;
Your dear dear Punch, must yield his nect'rous breath,
And e'er to-morrow noon, submit to death.
No hopes of pardon, no reprieve is nigh,
My death is sign'd ---- And must I, must I die?
It is resolv'd---- Then route your noble souls,
And crown this night with chearful flowing bowls;
Let none but you, my friends, support my pall,
And bilk those fops who triumph in my fall.
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