Avadavat

SIR OLIVER. What!—has he never transmitted—you—Bullion—Rupees—Pagodas! SURFACE. O Dear Sir—Nothing of the kind—no—no—a few Presents now and then—china, shawls, congo Tea, Avadavats—and indian Crackers—little more, believe me.

And now it has flown to new scenes of delight, Where Venus's pigeons long cooing have sat, While Lesbia's famed sparrow with envy moults white

And the warm angled winter screen, On which were many monsters seen, Call’d doves of Siam, Lima mice, And legless birds of Paradise, Macaw, and tender Avadavat,