DR.

SWIFT'S

ANSWER.

HE verses you fent on the bottling your wine

TH

Were, in every one's judgement, exceedingly fine;

And I muft confess, as a dean and divine,

I think you infpir'd by the Muses all nine.

I nicely examin'd them every line,

And the worft of them all like a barn-door did fhine.
Oh, that Jove would give me fuch a talent as thine!
With Delany or Dan I would fcorn to combine.
I know they have many a wicked design ;
And, give Satan his due, Dan begins to refine.
However, I wish, honeft comrade of mine,

You would really on Thursday leave St. Catharine*,
Where I hear you are cramm'd every day like a fwine;
With me you 'll no more have a ftomach to dine,
Nor after your vittles lie sleeping supine:
So I wish you were toothlefs, like lord Mafferine.
But, were you as wicked as lewd Aretine,

I wish you would tell me which way you incline.
If, when you return, your road you don't line,
On Thursday I'll pay my respects at your shrine,
Wherever you bend, wherever you twine,

In fquare, or in oppofite circle, or trine.

Your beef will on Thursday be falter than brine:
I hope you have fwill'd, with new milk from the kine,
As much as the Liffee 's outdone by the Rhine;

*The feat of lady Mountcafhel, near Dublin. VOL. I.

A a

And

And Dan fhall be with us, with nose aquiline.

If

you 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 kifs the low end of her spine.
But enough of this poetry Alexandrine :
I hope you will not think this a pafquine.

A PORTRAIT

FROM THE LIFE.

COME 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 bufy and idle ;

As rude as a bear, no mule half fo crabbed ;
She fwills like a fow, and fhe breeds like a rabbit :

A houfe-wife in bed, at table a flattern;

For all an example, for no one a pattern.

Now tell me, friend Thomas, Ford †, Grattan ‡, and merry Dan,

Has this

any likeness to good madam Sheridan?

*Dr. Thomas Sheridan.

+ Charles Ford of Woodpark, Efq;

Reverend John Grattan.

Reverend Daniel Jackfon.

UPON

1

UPON STEALING A CROWN

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 foftly fhut the parlour-door :

For fhould I break your fweet repofe,
Who knows what money you might lose
Since oftentimes it has been found,
A dream has given ten thousand pound?
Then fleep, my friend; dear dean, fleep on,
And all you get shall be your own;

Provided you to this agree,

That all you lofe belongs to me.

S

THE DEAN'S

ANSWER.

"O, about twelve at night, the punk
Steals from the cully when he 's drunk;

Ner is contented with a treat,

Without her privilege to cheat.
Nor can I the leaft difference find,
But that you left no clap behind.

But, jeft apart, reftore, you capon ye,

My twelve thirteens* and fix-pence ha'penny.

* A fhilling paffeth for thirteen pence in Ireland.

A a 2

To

To eat my meat, and drink my medlicot,
And then to give me fuch a deadly cut —
But 'tis observ'd, that men in gowns
Are most inclin'd to plunder crowns.
Could you but change a crown as easy
As you can steal one, how 'twould please ye !
I thought the lady at St. Catharine's
Knew how to fet you better patterns ;

For this I will not dine with Agmondisham †,
And for his victuals let a ragman dish 'em.

ТНЕ

MINERVA'S

STOR M;

ΡΕΤΙΤ Ι Ο Ν.

ALLAS, a goddess chafte and wife,
Defcending lately from the fkies,
To Neptune went, and begg'd in form
He'd give his orders for a storm;

A ftorm, 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,

Affur'd her he would do his best:
But Venus had been there before,
Pleaded the bishop lov'd a whore,

*Lady Montcafhel.

+ Agmondifham Vefey efq; a very worthy gentleman, for whom the Dean had a great esteem.

And

And had enlarg'd her empire wide;
He own'd no deity befide.

At fea or land, if e'er you found him
Without a miftrefs, hang or drown him.
Since Burnet's death, the bishop's bench,
Till Horte arriv'd, ne'er kept a wench;
If Horte muft fink, fhe grieves to tell it,
She 'll not have left one fingle prelate :
For, to fay truth, fhe did intend him,
Elect of Cyprus in commendam.

And, fince her birth the ocean gave her,
She could not doubt her uncle's favour.
Then Proteus urg'd the fame request,
But half in earnest, half in jeft;

Said he "Great fovereign of the main,

"To drown him, all attempts are vain;
"Horte can affume more forms than I,
"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 fhall 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 Fate,
"That Ireland must be soon destroy'd,
"And who but Horte can be employ'd?
"You need not then have been fo pert,
"In fending Bolton to Clonfert.

* Afterwards archbishop of Cashell.
A a 3

"I found