Copus

PORSON, Whose very name conjures up the spirits of ten thousand wits, holding both sides, over a copus of Trinity ale and a classical pun, would not only frequently “steal a few hours from the night,” but see out both lights and liquids, and seem none the worse for the carouse.

We beg you would not stand fiddling about it, but be married forthwith, and then take chaise, and come […] all the way to Cambridge […] for our copuses and Welsh rabbits are impatient for you.