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But be 't as 'twill, this you must grant,
That you 're a dawb, whilst I but paint;
Then which of us two is the quaint-

I value not your jokes of noose,
Your gibes, and all your foul abuse,
More than the dirt beneath my shoes,

Yet one thing vexes me, I own,

er coxcomb?:

Thou forry fcare-crow of skin and bone;

To be call'd lean by a skeleton,

'Tis true indeed, to curry friends,

You seem to praise, to make amends,
And yet, before your ftanza ends,

nor fear it.

who 'd bear it?

'Bout latent charms beneath my cloaths For every one that knows me knows That I have nothing like my nofe

pass now where you fleer and laugh, 'Caufe I call Dan my better half !

Oh there you think you have me fafe!

you flout me

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Dan's noble mettle, Sherry base;

So Dan's the better, though the less,

'An ounce of gold's worth ten of brafs,

As to your fpelling, let me fee,
If SHE makes ber, and RI makes ry,
Good fpelling-mafter! your crany


dull pedant!

has lead on 't.



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THREE days for anfwer I have waited,

I thought an ace you 'd ne'er have bated,
And art thou forc'd to yield, ill-fated

Henceforth acknowledge, that a nofe
Of thy dimenfion's fit for profe,
But every one that knows Dan, knows

Blush for ill-fpelling, for ill-lines,
And fly with hurry to ramines;
Thy fame, thy genius now declines,

I hear with fome concern you roar,
And flying think to quit the score
By clapping billets on your door


thy mafter.

proud boafter.

R 3

and pofts, Sir. Thy

Thy ruin, Tom, I never meant,

I'm griev'd to hear your banishment,
But pleas'd to find you do relent

I maul'd you, when you look'd fo bluff,
But now I'll fecret keep your ftuff;
For know, proftration is enough

and cry on.

to th' lion



"Cedo jam, miferæ cognofcens præmia rixæ,
“Si risca eft, ubi tu pulfas ego vapulo tantum.”

POOR Sherry, inglorious,

To Dan the victorious,
Prefents, as 'tis fitting,

Petition and greeting.

TO you victorious and brave,

Your now-fubdued and fuppliant slave
Moft humbly fues for pardon;

Who when I fought ftill cut me down,
And when I vanifh'd fled the town,
Purfued and laid me hard on.

Now lowly crouch'd I cry peccavi,
And proftrate fupplicate pour ma vie,
Your mercy I rely on;

For you, my conqueror and my king,
In pardoning, as in punishing,

Will fhew yourself a lion.


Alas! Sir, I had no defign,

But was unwarily drawn in;

For fpite I ne'er had any;

'Twas the damn'd squire with the hard name;
The de'el too that ow'd me a fhame,
The devil and Delany;

They tempted me t' attack your highnefs,
And then, with wonted wile and flynefs,
They left me in the lurch:

Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I've nothing left to vent my fpleem
But ferula and birch:

And they, alas yield fmall relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief,
My wounds bleed all anew :
For every ftroke goes to my hear
And at each lafh I feel the fmart

Of lafh laid on by you.

To the Rev. DANIEL JACKSON; To be humbly prefented by Mr. SHERIDAN in Perfon, with Refpect, Care, and Speed,



TERE I return my truft, nor afk,
One penny for remittance;

If I have well perform'd my task,
Pray fend me an acquittance.

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Too long I bore this weighty pack,

As Hercules the sky;

Now take him you, Dan Atlas, back,

Let me be ftander-by.

Not all the witty things you fpeak
In compafs of a day,

Not half the puns you make a week,
Should bribe his longer stay.

With me you left him out at nurse,
Yet are you not my debtor;
For, as he hardly can be worfe,

I ne'er could make him better.

He rhymes and puns, and puns and rhymes
Juft as he did before;

And, when he's lafh'd a hundred times,

He rhymes and puns

the more.

When rods are laid on fehool-boys-bums,
The more they frisk and skip:
The school-boy's top but louder hums,

The more they use the whip.

Thus, a lean beaft beneath a load

(A beaft of Irish breed)

Will, in a tedious, dirty road,

Outgo the prancing fteed.

You knock him down and down in vain,

And lay him flat before`ye,

For, foon as he gets up again,

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