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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
Should be envy'd by him, much less by Delany;
Though I own to you, when I consider it stricter,
envy the painter, although not the picture.
And justly she's envy'd, since a fiend of Hell
Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael.
Next, as to the charge, which you tell us is true,
That we were inspir'd by the subject we drew.
Inspired we were, and well, Sir, you knew it;
Yet not by your nose, but the fair one that drew it :
Had your nose been the Muse, we had ne'er been
inspir'd,

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,
I meddle not with 't, but presume to make merry,
You call'd Dan one half, and t'other half Sherry:
Now if Dan's a half, as you call't o'er and o'er,
Then it can't be deny'd that Sherry's two more.
For pray give me leave to say, Sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at least of double the value.
But perhaps, Sir, you did it to fill
did it to fill up the verse:
So crowds in a concert (like actors in a farce)
Play two parts in one, when scrapers are scarce.

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,
Were you like Nereus soft and fine,
We should not in the least repine,

believe, Sir:

or grieve, Sir.

Then know from us, most beauteous Dan,
That roughness best becomes a man;
'Tis women should be pale and wan,

and taper;

And all your trifling beaux and fops,
Who comb their brows, and sleek their chops,
Are but the offspring of toy-shops,

mere vapour.

We know your morning hours you pass
To cull and gather out a face;
Is this the way you take your glass?

Forbear it:

Those loads of paint upon your toilet,
Will never mend your face, but spoil it,
It looks as if you did parboil it:

Drink claret.

Your cheeks, by sleeking, are so lean,
That they're like Cynthia in the wane,
Or breast of goose when 'tis pick'd clean,
or pullet:

See what by drinking you have done :
You've made your phiz a skeleton,
From the long distance of your crown,

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t', your gullet.

A REJOINDER.

BY THE DEAN, IN JACKSON'S NAME.

WEARIED with saying grace and prayer,
I hasten'd down to country air,
To read your answer, and prepare

reply to't:

But your fair lines so grossly flatter,
Pray, do they praise me, or bespatter?
I must suspect you mean the latter-

Ah! slyboot?

It must be so ! what else, alas korene
Can mean by culling of a face,
And all that stuff of toilet, glass,

and box-comb?

But be't as 'twill, this you must grant,
That you're a daub, whilst I but paint;
Then which of us two is the quaint-

er coxcomb?

I value not your jokes of noose,
Your gibes and all your foul abuse,
More than the dirt beneath my shoes,

nor fear it :

Yet one thing vexes me, I own,
Thou sorrow scarecrow of skin and bone;
To be called lean by a skeleton,

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,
'Cause I call Dan my better half!
O there think you
you have'me safe!

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;
So Dan's the better, though the less,
An ounce of gold's worth ten of brass,

dull pedant !

!

As to your spelling, let me see,
If SHE make sher, and RI make ry,
Good spelling-master; your crany

has lead on't.

ANOTHER REJOINDER.

BY THE DEAN, IN 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 every one that knows Dan, knows

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

I hear with some concern your roar,
And flying think to quit the score,
By clapping billets on your door

thy master.

proud boaster.

and posts, Sir.

* A village near Dublin-F.

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