« EelmineJätka »
And Dan shall be with us, with nose aquiline.
do not come back, we shall weep out our eyne :
Or may your gown never be good Lutherine.
The beef you have got, I hear, is a chine :
But, if too many come, your madam will whine ;
And then you may kiss the low end of her spine.
But enough of this poetry Alexandrine :
I hope you will not think this a. pasquine.
TOME fit by my fide, while this picture I draw:
In chattering a magpie, in pride a jackdaw;
A temper the devil himself could not bridle;
Impertinent mixture of busy and idle ;
As rude as a bear, no mule half so crabbed ;
She swills like a fow, and she breeds like a rabbit :
A house-wife in bed, at table a flattern;
For all an example, for no one a pattern.
Now tell me, friend Thomas *, Ford t, Grattan I, and.
merry Dan ll,
any likeness to good madam Sheridan?
* Dr. Thomas Sheridan.
+ Charles Ford of Woodpark, Esq;
| Reverend John Grattan,
Reverend Daniel Jacklon,
WHEN THE DEAN WAS ASLEEP.
BY DR. SHERIDAN. DEAR Dean, fince you in fleepy wife
Have op'd your mouth, and clos'd your eyes; Like ghoft, I glide along your floor, And softly shut the parlour-door : For should I break your sweet repose, Who knows what money you might lose ; Since oftentimes it has been found, A dream has given ten thousand pound ? Then sleep, my friend; dear dean, sleep on, And all you get shall be your own; Provided you to this agree, That all you lofe belongs to me.
THE DEAN'S ANSWER
S about twelve at night
, the punk
Steals from the cully when he 's drunk;
Nor is contented with a trear,
Without her privilege to cheat.
Nor can I the least difference find,
you left no clap behind.
But, jest apart, restore, you capon ye,
My twelve thirteens * and six-pence ha’penny.
A Milling palleth for thirteen pence' in Ireland.
To eat my meat, and drink my medlicot,
And then to give me such a deadly cut -
But 'tis observ'd, that men in gowns
Are most inclin'd to plunder crowns.
but cbange a crown as easy
As you can steal one, how 'twould please ye !
I thought the lady * at St. Catharine's
Knew how to set you
better patterns ;
For this I will not dine with Agmondifham t,
And for his victuals let a ragman dish 'em.
THE S T O R M;
MI NE RV A’S PETITION
PALLAS, a goddess chaste and wil,
Descending lately from the skies,
To Neptune went, and begg'd in form
He 'd give his orders for a storm ;
A form, to drown that rascal Horte,
And she would kindly thank him for 't:
A wretch! whom English rogues, to spite her,
Had lately honour'd with a mitre.
The god, who favour'd her request,
Assur'd her he would do his best :
But Venus had been there before,
Pleaded the bishop lov'd a whore,
Lady Montcafhel. + Agmondisham Vesey esq; a very worthy gentle. man, for whom the Dean had a great esteem.
And had enlarg'd, her empire wide ;
He own'd no deity beside.
At sea or land, if c'er you found him
Without a mistress, hang or drown him.
Since Burnet's death, the bifhop's bench,
Till Horte arriv'd, ne'er kept a wench ;
If Horte must fink, the grieves to tell it,
She 'lt not have left one single prelate :
For, to say truth, she did intend him,
Elect of Cyprus in commendam.
And, since her birth the ocean gave her,
She could not doubt her uncle's favour..
Then Proteus urg'd the same request,
But half in earnest, half in jest;
Said he — " Great sovereign of the main,
• To drown him, all attempts are vain ;
“ Horte can allume more forms than 1,
“ A rake, a bully, pimp, or spy ;
“ Can creep or run, can fly or swim,
“ All motions are alike to him :
“ Turn him adrift, and you shall find
“ He knows to fail with every wind;
“ Or, throw him overboard, he 'll ride
“ As well against, as with the tide.
“ But, Pallas, you 've apply'd too late ;
“ For 'tis decreed, by Jove and Fare,
“ That Ireland must be foon destroy'd,
“ And who but Horte can be employ'd ?
“ You need not then have been so pert,
“ In sending Bolton * to Clonfert.
* Afterwards archbishop of Cashell.
" I found
“ I found you did it, by your grinning;
“ Your business is, to mind your spinning.
* But how you came to interpose
“ In making bishops, no one knows :
“ Or who regarded your report;
“ For never were you seen at court.
~ And if you must have your petition,
« There 's Berkeley ** in the same condition :
* Look, there he flands, and 'tis but just,
“ If one must drown, the other must;
“ But, if you 'll leave us bishop Judas,
“ We 'll give you Berkeley for Bermudas.
* Now, if 'twill gratify your spight,
“ To put him in a plaguy fright,
“ Although 'tis hardly worth the cost,
• You soon shall fee him foundly tost.
“ You 'll find him swear, blafpheme, and damn
take a dram)
“ His ghaftly visage with an air
“ Of reprobation and despair :
• Or else some hiding-hole he seeks,
“ For fear the rest should say he squeaks;
“ Or, as Fitzpatrick t did before,
“ Resolve to perish with his whore ;
• Or elfe he raves, and roars, and swears,
« And, but for shame, would say his prayers.
“ Or, would you see his spirits sink,
Relaxing downwards in a stink?
* Dr. George Berkeley, dean of Derry, and after.
wards bishop of Cloyne.
+ Brigadier Fitzpatrick was drowned in one of the packet-boars in the bay of Dublin, in a great storm.