THE DEAN'S ANSWER
So, about twelve at night, the punk
Steals from the cully when he's drunk:
Nor is contented with a treat,
Without her privilege to cheat:
Nor can I the least difference find,
But that you left no clap behind.
But, jest apart, restore, you capon ye,
My twelve thirteens[1] and sixpence-ha'penny
To eat my meat and drink my medlicot,
And then to give me such a deadly cut--
But 'tis observed, that men in gowns
Are most inclined to plunder crowns.
Could you but change a crown as easy
As you can steal one, how 'twould please ye!
I thought the lady[2] at St. Catherine's
Knew how to set you better patterns;
For this I will not dine with Agmondisham,[3]
And for his victuals, let a ragman dish 'em.
Saturday night.
[Footnote 1: A shilling passes for thirteen pence in Ireland.--_F._]
[Footnote 2: Lady Mountcashel.--_F._]
[Footnote 3: Agmondisham Vesey, Esq., of Lucan, in the county of Dublin,
comptroller and accomptant-general of Ireland, a very worthy gentleman,
for whom the Dean had a great esteem.--_Scott_.]
A PROLOGUE TO A PLAY PERFORMED AT MR. SHERIDAN'S SCHOOL.
SPOKEN BY ONE OF THE SCHOLARS
AS in a silent night a lonely swain,
'Tending his flocks on the Pharsalian plain,
To Heaven around directs his wandering eyes,
And every look finds out a new surprise;
So great's our wonder, ladies, when we view
Our lower sphere made more serene by you.
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