1843 c/o Richard O'Brien

rip I have not heard from you a long while

rip early this morning I climbed on a pew in the old church & didnt care a damn who saw

rip I have been commended for a tragedy but having not written one I knew not what to say nor who for all is long forgot

rip still I mount the ring & who shall strip me none

rip I am shut up in a raree show & bennion dances upon my levers until I think myself a manikin with no spring all the chimes has been picked out of the clock

rip mademoiselle delia comes to see me nightly she kisses & holds me my pretty one but there has been no pleughing nor ploughing neither not since the times of our last king james

rip there is a set of tumblers in my brain & their japes & knaveries are sickening abundant

rip I have a singular lesson for you & it is this no playhouses

rip I have shown the ignorant of peterborough how we cockney lads behave ourselves they could not keep me in my box the bishops box for I was boxing clever yes sir

rip is this a farce or afterpiece or is this my life

rip I hear they will pull down astleys the savages but cannot get there nor come by any news

rip I fear another plays me & what they will have me do

rip they will go to war for my song mistress vistress corri & my poor words hung on an italian rossini is his name

rip is it me who has brung down the tyranny of the legitimate

rip they fight me one against the other like ivanhoe what do such know of hoeing

rip it is as you said I am roasting do you remember it was a life ago

rip they do not know nor believe that I am kean the hebrew cain they would have me be

rip tottenham street is silent since the french has died all of a pox & a notorious bad thing it is

rip I have one wife by the fire & another in it so I abolish all holds & patents

rip I am in a great blue fever

rip a murderous villain speaks to me with the kings authority

rip there is a small blue bird in a station of the railway I dont know what you are there & my son jack I cant get there will you see him one day

rip they think I am marlowe & this is how I shall scape the cursed censor and convey my letters

rip they think I am john clare too but I know better

rip they wanted me to talk fine as they do upon the stage & do they still or do they talk as I do

rip I see an armchair with a paper & a mangle by

rip I see dancers kicking high as skylarks

rip I see a woman sawed in half in covent garden & only I know why

rip I hear them singing in northampton & they do not know that I am singing here

rip I hear them singing but I do not hear you

rip I am in a box I stretch out my wooden limbs & the french singing is all I hear