“To rich felicity thus raised,
    My bosom glows with amorous fire;
  Porter no longer shall be praised,
    ’Tis I Myself am Thrale’s Entire.”

She has written opposite these lines, “Whose fun was this?  It is better than the other.”  The other was: 

  “Cervisial coctor’s viduate dame,
  Opinst thou this gigantick frame,
  Procumbing at thy shrine,
  Shall catinated by thy charms,
  A captive in thy ambient arms
  Perennially be thine.”

She writes opposite:  “Whose silly fun was this?  Soame Jenyn’s?”

The following paragraph is copied from the note-book of the late Miss Williams Wynn[1], who had recently been reading a large collection of Mrs. Piozzi’s letters addressed to a Welsh neighbour: 

[Footnote 1:  Daughter of Sir Watkyn Wynn (the fourth baronet) and granddaughter of George Grenville, the Minister.  She was distinguished by her literary taste and acquirements, as well as highly esteemed for the uprightness of her character, the excellence of her understanding, and the kindness of her heart.  Her journals and note-books, carefully kept during a long life passed in the best society, are full of interesting anecdotes and curious extracts from rare books and manuscripts.  They are now in the possession of her niece, the Honourable Mrs. Rowley.]

“London, March, 1825.—­I have had an opportunity of talking to old Sir William Pepys on the subject of his old friend, Mrs. Piozzi, and from his conversation am more than ever impressed with the idea that she was one of the most inconsistent characters that ever existed.  Sir William says he never met with any human being who possessed the talent of conversation in such a degree.  I naturally felt anxious to know whether Piozzi could in any degree add to this pleasure, and found, as I expected, that he could not even understand her.

“Her infatuation for him seems perfectly unaccountable.  Johnson in his rough (I may here call it brutal) manner said to her, ’Why Ma’am, he is not only a stupid, ugly dog, but he is an old dog too.’  Sir William says he really believes that she combated her inclination for him as long as possible; so long, that her senses would have failed her if she had attempted to resist any longer.  She was perfectly aware of her degradation.  One day, speaking to Sir William of some persons whom he had been in the habit of meeting continually at Streatham during the lifetime of Mr. Thrale, she said, not one of them has taken the smallest notice of me ever since:  they dropped me before I had done anything wrong.  Piozzi was literally at her elbow when she said this.”