A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. It was not your fault you failed. I know well that you are making a game with me. We have come to the conclusion, Brendon and I, that Mrs. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. END OF THE FIRST EPOCH. I'll do anything in reason for you, old top; but no pig in a poke.
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