I

pass now where you fleer and laugh, 'Cause I call Dan my better half:

Oh, there you think you have me safe!

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but hold, Sir;

Is not a penny often found

To be much greater than a pound?

By your good leave, my most profound

and bold Sir,

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If SHE makes sher, and RI makes ry;

Good Spelling-master! your cranny

has lead in't.

ANOTHER REPLY BY THE DEAN,

IN DAN JACKSON'S NAME.

THREE days for answer I have waited,
I thought an ace you'd ne'er have bated;
And art thou forc'd to yield, ill-fated

poetaster?

Henceforth acknowledge that a nose
Of thy dimension's fit for prose;
But ev'ry one that knows Dan knows

thy master.

5

Blush for ill spelling, for ill lines,
And fly with hurry to Ramines;
Thy fame, thy genius, now declines,

proud boaster.

ΤΟ

I hear with some concern your roar,
And flying think to quit the score,

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and posts, Sir.

By clapping billets on your door

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 so bluff,
But now I'll secret keep your stuff;
For know prostration is enough

to th' lion.

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SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION.

WRITTEN BY THE DEAN.

Cedo Jam, miserae cognoscens praemia rixae,
Si risca est, ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum.

Poor Sherry, inglorious,

To Dan the victorious,

Presents, as 'tis fitting,

Petition and greeting.

I.

Το

you victorious and brave,

Your now subdu'd and suppliant slave
Most humbly sues for pardon,

Who, when I fought, still cut me down,
And when I vanquish'd fled the town,

Pursu'd and laid me hard on.

II.

Now lowly crouch'd, I cry Peccavi,
And, prostrate, supplicate pour ma vie ;
Your mercy I rely on.

For you, my conqu'ror and my king,
In pard'ning, as in punishing,

Will shew yourself a lion.

III.

Alas! Sir, I had no design,

5

But was unwarily drawn in,

For spite I ne'er had any;

'Twas the damn'd 'squire with the hard name; The devil too that ow'd me a shame,

The devil and Delany;

IV.

They tempted me t'attack your Highness,
And then, with wonted wile and slyness,
They left me in the lurch.

Unhappy wretch! for now I ween
I've nothing left to vent my spleen
But ferula and birch;

V.

And they, alas! yield small relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief,
My wounds bleed all anew;

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15

20

25

For ev'ry stroke goes to my heart,

And at each lash I feel the smart

Of lash laid on by you.

TOM MULLINIX AND DICK.

Toм and Dick had equal fame,
And both had equal knowledge;
Tom could write and spell his name,
But Dick had seen the college.

II.

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Dick would cock his nose in scorn,
But Tom was kind and loving;
Tom a footboy bred and born,
But Dick was from an oven.

IV.

Dick could neatly dance a jig,
But Tom was best at borees;
Tom would pray for ev'ry whig,
And Dick curse all the Tories.

V.

Dick would make a woeful noise,
And scold at an election;
Tom huzza'd the blackguard boys,
And held them in subjection.

VI.

Tom could move with lordly grace,

Dick nimbly skip the gutter;
Tom could talk with solemn face,
But Dick could better sputter.

Dick for repartee was fit,
And Tom for deep discerning;
Dick was thought the brighter wit,
But Tom had better learning.

X.

Dick with zealous Noes and Ayes
Could roar as loud as Stentor;
In the House 'tis all he says;

But Tom is eloquenter.

DICK A MAGGOT.

As when from rooting in a bin,
All powder'd o'er from tail to chin,
Volume III.

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