But as for your threats, you may do what you can
I despise any poet that truckled to Dan
But keep a good tongue, or you'll find to your smart
From rhyming in cars, you may swing in a cart.
You found out my rebus with very much modesty;
But thanks to the lady; I'm sure she's too good to ye:
Till she lent you her help, you were in a fine twitter;
You hit it, you say;--you're a delicate hitter.
How could you forget so ungratefully a lass,
And if you be my Phoebus, pray who was your Pallas?
As for your new rebus, or riddle, or crux,
I will either explain, or repay it by trucks;
Though your lords, and your dogs, and your catches, methinks,
Are harder than ever were put by the Sphinx.
And thus I am fully revenged for your late tricks,
Which is all at present from the
DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S.
From my closet, Sept, 12, 1718, just 12 at noon.
[Footnote 1: Ut tu perperam argumentaris.--_Scott._]
TO THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S
SIR,
Your Billingsgate Muse methinks does begin
With much greater noise than a conjugal din.
A pox of her bawling, her _tempora et mores!_
What are times now to me; a'nt I one of the Tories?
You tell me my verses disturb you at prayers;
Oh, oh, Mr.
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