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You the fam'd idol will become,
As gardens grac'd in ancient Rome,
By matrons worship'd in the gloom

O happy Dan! thrice happy fure!
Thy fame for ever fhall endure,
Who after death can love fecure

of night.

at fight.

So far I thought it was my duty
To dwell upon thy boasted beauty;
Now I'll proceed a word or two t'ye

in answer

To that part where you carry on
This paradox, that rock and stone
In your opinion are all one.

How can, Sir,

A man of reasoning fo profound

So ftupidly be run aground,

As things fo differently to confound

t' our fenfes ?

Except you judg'd them by the knock

Of near an equal hardy block :
Such an experimental stroke


Then might you be, by dint of reason,
A proper judge on this occafion;
'Gainft feeling there's no difputation,
is granted.

Therefore to thy fuperior wit,
Who made the trial, we fubmit ;
Thy head to prove the truth of it

we wanted.

In one affertion you 're to blame,

Where Dan and Sherry 's made the same,
Endeavouring to have your name

refin'd, Sir.

You'll fee moft grofsly you miftook,
If you confult your spelling-book,
(The better half you say you took)

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you'll find, Sir,

and R, I, ri,


the three


Dan is but one, and Sherri two,


Then, Sir, your choice will never do
Therefore I 've turn'd, my friend, on you

the tables.



ASSIST me, my Mufe, whilft I labour to limn himes

Credite, Pifones, ifti tabulæ perfimilem:

You look and you write with fo different a grace,
That I envy your verse, though I did not your face....
And to him that thinks rightly, there's reafon enough,
Cause one is as finooth as the other is rough.

But much I'm amaz'd you should think my design
Was to rhyme down your nofe, or your harlequin grin,
Which you yourself. wonder the de'el should malign.
And if 'tis fo ftrange, that your monstership's crany
Should be envy'd by him, much lefs by Delany.
Though I own to you, when I confider it stricter,
I envy the painter, although not the picture.
And juftly fhe 's envy'd, fince a fiend of Hell
Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael.
Next, as to the charge, which
That we were infpir'd by the fubje&t we drew.

tell us



Infpir'd we were, and well, Sir, you knew it,
Yet not by your nofe, but the fair-one that drew it:
Had your nofe been the Mute, we had ne'er been infpir'd,."
Though perhaps it might juftly've been faid we were fir'd...
As to the divifion of words. in your flaves,

Like my countryman's horn-comb, into three halves,
I meddle not with 't, but prefume to make merry,
You call'd Dan one half, and t'other half Sherry:
Now if Dan's a half, as you call 't o'er and o'er,
Then it can't be deny'd that Sherry's two more.



For pray give me leave to fay, Sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at leaft of double the value.
But perhaps, Sir, you did it to fill up the verfe:
So crouds in a concert (like actors in farce)
Play two parts in one, when fcrapers are scarce.
But be that as 'twill, you 'll know more anon, Sir,
When Sheridan fends to Merry Dan answer.



lads merry

you own we are;


'Tis very true, and free from care, But envious we cannot bear,


believe, Sir.

For, were all forms of beauty thine,

Were you like Nereus foft and fine,
We should not in the leaft repine,

or grieve, Sir.

Then know from us, most beauteous Dan,
That roughness best becomes a man ;
'Tis women fhould be pale and wan,

and taper.

And all your trifling beaux and fops,
Who comb their brows and fleek their chops,
Are but the offspring of toy-fhops,

meer vapour.

We know your morning-hours you pass

To cull and gather out a face;

Is this the way you take your glass ?

Forbear it.


Thofe loads of paint upon your toilet,
Will never mend your face, but fpoil it,
It looks as if you did par-boil it:

Drink claret.

Your cheeks, by fleeking, are fo lean,
That they're like Cynthia in the wane,
Or breast of goose when 'tis pick'd clean,

See what by drinking you have done:
You've made your phiz a skeleton,
From the long diftance of your crown,

or pullet.

t' your gullet




WEARIED with faying grace



I haften'd down to country air,

To read your answer, and prepare

But your fair lines fo grofsly flatter,
Pray do they praise me, or bespatter?
I must fufpect you mean the latter-

It must be fo! what elfe, alas

Can mean by culling of a face,
And all that stuff of toilet, glafs,

R 2

reply to 't.

Ah! fly-boot!

and box-comb?


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