" Such at least
is the picture given of him by Boswell on one occasion when Beauclerc and
Langton having supped together at a tavern determined to give Johnson a
rouse at three o'clock in the morning. They accordingly rapped violently at
the door of his chambers in the Temple. The indignant sage sallied forth in
his shirt, poker in hand, and a little black wig on the top of his head,
instead of helmet; prepared to wreak vengeance on the assailants of his
castle; but when his two young friends, Lankey and Beau, as he used to call
them, presented themselves, summoning him forth to a morning ramble, his
whole manner changed. "What, is it you, ye dogs?" cried he. "Faith, I'll
have a frisk with you!"
So said so done. They sallied forth together into Covent Garden; figured
among the green grocers and fruit women, just come in from the country with
their hampers; repaired to a neighboring tavern, where Johnson brewed a
bowl of _bishop_, a favorite beverage with him, grew merry over his
cups, and anathematized sleep in two lines from Lord Lansdowne's drinking
song:
"Short, very short, be then thy reign,
For I'm in haste to laugh and drink again."
They then took boat again, rowed to Billingsgate, and Johnson and Beauclerc
determined, like "mad wags," to "keep it up" for the rest of the day.
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