Or fhould Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane
'Tis hard then he should be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his fide.
But, if the cafe must be so hard,
That faces fuffer by a card,
Let criticks cenfure, what care I?
Back-biters only we defy,

Faces are free from injury.

;

Because we thus muft ftate the cafe,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end 's a damn'd disgrace

of noofe, Sir.

But yet be not caft down: I fee
A weaver will your hangman be;
You'll only hang in tapestry

And then the ladies, I fuppofe,

with many.

Will praise your longitude of nofe,
For latent charms within your cloaths,

dear Danny.

Thus

Thus will the fair of every age

From all parts make their pilgrimage,

Worship thy nose with pious rage

of love, Sir.

All their religion will be spent

About thy woven monument,

And not one orifon be fent

to Jove, Sir.

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 shall 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 ftone
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 senses?

Except you judg'd them by the knock

Of near an equal hardy block :
Such an experimental stroke

convinces.

Then might you be, by dint of reafon,
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 fame,
Endeavouring to have your name

refin'd, Sir.

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

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.

DR.

DR. DELANY'S REPLY.

ASSIST me, my Mufe, whilft I labour to limn him:

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, Caufe one is as fmooth 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 fhould malign.
And if 'tis fo ftrange, that your monstership's crany
Should be envy'd by him, much less by Delany.
Though I own to you, when I confider it ftriéter,
I envy the painter, although not the picture.
And justly fhe's envy'd, fince a fiend of Hell
Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael.
Next, as to the charge, which you tell us is true,
That we were inspir'd by the subject we drew.
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 Muse, 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 ftaves,

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.
VOL. I.

R

For

For pray give me leave to fay, Sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at least of double the value.
But perhaps, Sir, you did it to fill up the verse :
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 sends to Merry Dan answer.

SHERIDAN'S REPLY.

ΤΗ

HREE merry lads 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, moft 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-shops,

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