The torrent mercilefs imbibes Commiffions, perquifites, and bribes ; By their own weight funk to the bottom; "Much good may't do 'em that have caught 'em." And Midas now neglected ftands With affes' ears and dirty hands. 81 The Reverend Dr. SHERIDAN to DEAR EAR Dean, fince in cruxes and puns you and Pray, why is a woman a fieve and a riddle? 'Tis a thought that came into noddle this morn ing, my 6 In bed as I lay, Sir, a toffing and turning. *Not I, by my troth, Sir." gain, Sir. ΙΟ Then read it a The reafon I fend you thefe lines of rhymes double, Is purely through pity to fave you the trouble *The Dean's anfwer. 16 Of Of thinking two hours for a rhyme as you did laft; When your Pegafus canter'd in triple, and rid faft. 20 As for my little nag, which I keep at Parnaffus, With Phoebus's leave, to run with his affes, He goes flow and fure, and he never is jaded; While your fiery fteed is whipp'd, fpurr'd, baftinaded. Dean SWIFT's, anfwer to the Reverend Dr. SHERIDAN. SIR, IN reading your letter alone in my hackney, Your damnable riddle my poor brains did rack nigh, And when with much labour the matter I crackt, I found you mistaken in matter of fact. A woman's no fieve, (for with that you begin), Because the lets out more than e'er fhe takes in, 6 And that she's a riddle, can never be right; For a riddle is dark, but a woman is light. But grant her a fieve, I can fay fomething archer; Pray what is a man? he's a fine linen fearcher. 10 Now tell me a thing that wants interpretation, What name for a maid *, was the firft man's damnation? If your worthip will please to explain me this rebus, 1 fwear from henceforward you fhall be my Phoebus, From my hackney-coach, Sept. 11. 1712, past 12 at noon. ************************* 茶茶茶茶 A LETTER to the Rev. Dr. SHERIDAN. SIR, Written in the year 1718. WHate'er your predeceffors taught us, The rogue too bawdy and too profane is. Down in the Strand * just where the new pole is; You will not find it in the Vatican, He and Cratinus ufed, as Horace fays, Poets, in those days, used to venture high; 5 Thus you may fee, dear friend, ex pede hence 15 My judgement of the old comedians. Proceed to tragics, firft Euripides (An author, where I fometimes dip a-days) 20 *N. B. The Strand in London. The fact may be falfe, but the rhyme coft me fome trouble, And And that a woman, in those tragedies, 25 Whofe moving touches, when they please, kill us.. And now I find my mufe but ill able I chose these rhymes out, for their difficulty: 30 Written in the year 1713, when the Queen's minifters were quarrelling among themselves *. Bferve the dying father speak : Try, lads, can you this bundle break; * See more of the author's endeavours to procure a reconcilement among them, in the letters to and from Dr. Swift, in vol. 9. See also free thoughts on the prefent ftate of affairs. VERSE Keep close then, boys, and never quarrel. L This tale may be apply'd in few words 15 20 Should come and make the clatt'ring ceafe; The Conful's fafces* were unbound; In history we never found, Thefe Romans were too wife to think on't, 2.5 30 Came up and knock'd the Prætor down. Come, courtiers; every man his stick : 35 Lord Treasurer t, for once be quick; And that they may the clofer cling, Come, trimming Harcourt ‡, bring your mace; Will undertake to do it for thee: 40 *Fafces, a burdle of rods or fmall sticks carried before the Confuls at Rome. + Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford. Lord Chancellor. Sir Edward Northey, Attorney-General, brought in by Lord Harcourt, yet very defirous of the great feal. And |