I used to dress myself in my full togs.

I made Fitzwarren, my boddy servnt, stand at the dor, and figger as the Lord in Waiting.

I put Mrs.Bloker, my laundress, in my grand harm chair to reprasent the horgust pusn of my Sovring; Frederick, my secknd man, standing on her left, in the hattatude of an illustrus Prins Consort.
Hall the Candles were lighted.

'Captain de la Pluche, presented by Herl Bareacres,' Fitzwarren, my man, igsclaimed, as adwancing I made obasins to the Thrown.

Nealin on one nee, I cast a glans of unhuttarable loilty towards the British Crownd, then stepping gracefully hup, (my Dimascus Simiter WOULD git betwigst my ligs, in so doink, which at fust was wery disagreeble)--rising hup grasefly, I say, I flung a look of manly but respeckfl hommitch tords my Prins, and then ellygntly ritreated backards out of the Roil Presents.