But, if the case must be so hard,
That faces suffer by a card,

Let critics censure, what care I?
Backbiters only we defy,

Faces are free from injury.

MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.

You say your face is better hung
Than ours-by what? by nose or tongue?
In not explaining you are wrong

to us, sir.

Because we thus must state the case,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end's a damn'd disgrace

But yet be not cast down: I see
A weaver will your hangman be;
You'll only hang in tapestry

of noose, sir.

with many:

And then the ladies, I suppose,
Will praise your longitude of nose,
For latent charms within your clothes,

dear Danny.

Thus will the fair of every age
From all parts make their pilgrimage,
Worship thy nose with pious rage

of love, sir:

All

All their religion will be spent
About thy woven monument,
And not one orison be sent

You the fam'd idol will become,
As gardens grac'd in ancient Rome,
By matrons worship'd in the gloom

O happy Dan! thrice happy sure!
Thy fame for ever shall endure,
Who after death can love secure

to Jove, sir.

of night:

at sight.

So far I thought it was my duty
To dwell upon thy boasted beauty;
Now I'll proceed a word or two t' ye

To that part where you carry on
This paradox, that rock and stone
In your opinion are all one:

A man of reasoning so profound
So stupidly be run aground,
As things so different to confound

in answer

How can, sir,

t' our senses?

Except you judg'd them by the knock
Of near an equal hardy block:
Such an experimental stroke

convinces.

Then might you be, by dint of reason,
A proper judge on this occasion;
'Gainst feeling there's no disputation,

is granted:

Therefore

Therefore to thy superior wit,
Who made the trial, we submit;
Thy head to prove the truth of it

we wanted.

In one assertion you're to blame,
Where Dan and Sherry's made the same,
Endeavouring to have your name

refin'd, sir:

You'll see most grossly you mistook,
If you consult your spelling-book,
(The better half you say you took)

S, H, E, she-and R, I, ri,

Both put together make Sherry,
D, A, N, Dan-makes up the three

Dan is but one, and Sherri two,

you'll find, sir;

syllables;

Then, sir, your choice will never do;
Therefore I've turn'd, my friend, on you

the tables.

DR. DELANY'S REPLY.

ASSIST me, my Muse, while I labour to limn him: Credite, Pisones, isti tabulæ persimilem.

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

malign.

And if 'tis so strange, that your monstership's crany

Should be envy'd by him, much less by Delany;
Though I own to you, when I consider it stricter,
I 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.
Inspir'd 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 w 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 morė. 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 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

SHERIDAN'S REPLY.

THREE merry lads you own we are;
'Tis very true, and free from care,
But envious we cannot bear,

believe, sir:

For, were all forms of beauty thine,
Were you like Nereus soft and fine,
We should not in the least repine,

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 toyshops,

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: