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, I hasten'd down to country air, reply to't: But It must be so! what else, alas! Ah! slyboot! and box-comb? But be't as 'twill, this you must grant, er coxcomb: I value not your jokes of noose, 1 nor fear it: Yet Yet one thing vexes me, I own, who'd bear it? Tis true, indeed, to curry friends, you flout me, 'Bout latent charms beneath my clothes, For every one that knows me knows That I have nothing like my nose I about me: pass now where you fleer and laugh, 'Cause I call Dan my better half! O there you think you have me safe! Is not a penny often found But hold, sir: To be much greater than a pound? By your good leave, my most profound Dan's noble metal, Sherry base; and bold sir, So Dan's the better, though the less, dull pedant l As to your spelling, let me see, 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, thy master. I hear with some concern you roar, proud boaster. and posts, sir. Thy ruin, Tom, I never meant, and cry on. I maul'd you, when you look'd so bluff, A to th' lion. SHERIDAN'S Το SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION. BY THE DEAN. "Cedo jam, miseræ cognoscens præmia rixæ, Si rixa est, ubi tu pulsas ego vapulo tantum." POOR Sherry, inglorious, To Dan the victorious, Presents, as 'tis fitting, Petition and greeting. you, victorious and brave, Your now subdued and suppliant slave Now lowly crouch'd'I cry peccavi, For you, my conqueror and my king, Will show yourself a lion. Alas! sir, I had no design, 'Twas the damn'd 'squire with the hard name; The devil and Delany; They tempted me t'attack your highness, T 4 They They left me in the lurch: Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween, And they, alas! yield small relief, TO THE REV. DANIEL JACKSON. TO BE HUMBLY PRESENTED BY MR. SHERIDAN IN PERSON, WITH RESPECI, CARE, And speed, DEAR DAN, HERE I return my trust, nor ask, Too long I hore this weighty pack, As Hercules the sky; Now take him you, Dan Atlas, back, Let me be stander-by. Not all the witty things you speak In compass of a day, Not half the puns you make a week, Should bribe his longer stay. |