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N EAR Sheridan! a gentle Pair
By leaving out the needless Vowels
Philologers of future Ages, How will they pore upon thy Pages ! Nor will they dare to break the Joints, But help thee to be read with Points : Or else; to shew their Labour, you : May backward be perus'd like Hebrew, Wherein they need not lose a Bit, Or, of thy Harmony or Wit, To make a Work compleatly fine, Number and weight and Measure join ; Then all must grant your Lines are weighty, Where thirty weigh as much as eighty.
All must allow your Numbers more, Where twenty Lines exceed fourscore ; Nor can we think your Measure short Where less than forty fill the Quart ; , With Alexandrine in the Close, Long, long, long, long, like Dan's long Nose.
A REBUS, written by a * LADY, on the
Reverend Dr. SWIFT. CUT the Name of the Man? yo--sepb.
W who his Mistress deny'd, And let the first of it be only
• apply'd To join with the Prophet who | Nathan.
David did chide.. Then say what a Horse is that runs very faft, And that which deserves to be first put the
last; Spell all then, and put them together to find . The Name and the Virtue of Him I design'd. Like the Patriarch in Egypt, he's vers’d in the
State, Like the Prophet in Jeury, he's free with the Great,
Like * Mrs. Vanhomrigh.
Like a Racer he flies to fuccour with Speed,
THE NYMPH who wrote this in an
amorous Fit, I cannot but envy the Pride of her Wit, Which thus she will venture profusely to throw, On so mean a Dehgn, and a Subje&t so tow. For mean’s her Dehgn, and her Subječt as mean, The first but a Rebus, the last but a Dean :: A Dean's but a Parson; and what is a Rebus ? A Thing never known to the Muses or Phoebus :: The Corruption of Verse, for when all is done, It is but a Paraphrase made on a Punni. But a Genius like her's no Subject can stifle, It shews and discovers itself through a Trifle. By reading this Trifle, I quickly began To find her a Wit, but the Dean a small Man. Rich Ladies, will furnish their Garrets with
Stuff, . Which others for Mantuas wou'd think fine
enuff; So the Wit that is lavishly thrown away here, Might furnish a second Rate Poet a Year ::
Thus much for the Verse, we proceed to the Where the Nymph hath entirely forsaken her
Text : Her fine Panegyricks are quite out of Season, And what She describes to be Merit is Treason : The Changes which Faction hath made in the
State, Have put the Dean's Politicks quite out of
Date : Now no one regards what he utters with
Freedom, And shou'd he write Pamphlets, no Great Man
wou'd read 'em ; And shou'd Want or Desert stand in need of
. his Aid, This Racer wou'd prove but a dull foundercha