And we shall take you rather
To be a midnight pack
Of witches met together,
With Beelzebub in black.
It fills my heart with woe,
To think such ladies fine
Should be reduced so low,
To treat a dull divine.
Be by a parson cheated!
Had you been cunning stagers,
You might yourselves be treated
By captains and by majors.
See how corruption grows,
While mothers, daughters, aunts,
Instead of powder'd beaux,
From pulpits choose gallants.
If we, who wear our wigs
With fantail and with snake,
Are bubbled thus by prigs;
Z----ds! who would be a rake?
Had I a heart to fight,
I'd knock the Doctor down;
Or could I read or write,
Egad! I'd wear a gown.
Then leave him to his birch;[3]
And at the Rose on Sunday,
The parson safe at church,
I'll treat you with burgundy.
[Footnote 1: An ale-house in Dublin, famous for
beef-steaks.--_F._]
[Footnote 2: Doctor Thomas Sheridan.--_F._]
[Footnote 3: Dr. Sheridan was a schoolmaster.--_F._]
THE FIVE LADIES' ANSWER TO THE BEAU
WITH THE WIG AND WINGS AT HIS HEAD
BY DR. SHERIDAN
You little scribbling beau,
What demon made you write?
Because to write you know
As much as you can fight.
For compliment so scurvy,
I wish we had you here;
We'd turn you topsy-turvy
Into a mug of beer.
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