You look and you write with so different a grace, That I envy your verse, though I did not your face. And to him that thinks rightly, there's reason enough, 'Cause one is as smooth, as the other is rough. But much I'm amaz'd you should think my. design Was to rhyme down your nose, or your harlequin grin, Which you yourself wonder the de'el should I malign. crany And if 'tis so strange, that your monstership's Tho' perhaps it might justly 've been said we were fir'd. As to the division of words in your staves, Like my countryman's horn-comb, into three halves, But be that as 'twill, you'll know more anon, Sir, When Sheridan sends to Merry Dan answer. SHERIDAN'S REPLY. I THREE merry lads you own we are; 'Tis very true, and free from care, But envious we cannot bear, For, were all forms of beauty thine, believe, Sir: or grieve, Sir. Then know from us, most beauteous Dan, and taper; And all your trifling beaux and fops, mere vapour. We know your morning hours you pass Forbear it: Those loads of paint upon your toilet, Drink claret. Your cheeks, by sleeking, are so lean, See what by drinking you have done : t', your gullet. A REJOINDER. BY THE DEAN, IN JACKSON'S NAME. WEARIED with saying grace and prayer, reply to't: But your fair lines so grossly flatter, Ah! slyboot? It must be so ! what else, alas korene and box-comb? But be't as 'twill, this you must grant, er coxcomb? I value not your jokes of noose, nor fear it : Yet one thing vexes me, I own, who'd bear it? 'Tis true, indeed, to curry friends, You seem to praise, to make amends, And yet, before your stanza ends, you flout me, 'Bout latent charms beneath my clothes, For every one that knows me knows That I have nothing like my nose about me: I pass now where you fleer and laugh, you Is not a penny often found But hold, Sir: To be much greater than a pound! By your good leave, my most profound and bold, Sir, Dan's noble metal, Sherry base; dull pedant ! ! As to your spelling, let me see, has lead on't. ANOTHER REJOINDER. BY THE DEAN, IN JACKSON'S NAME. THREE days for answer I have waited, poetaster? Henceforth acknowledge, that a nose Blush for ill spelling, for ill lines, I hear with some concern your roar, thy master. proud boaster. and posts, Sir. * A village near Dublin-F. |