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Alas, Sir, I had no design,
For spite I'ne'er had any.
The devil and Delany ;
They left me in the lurch.
But ferula and birch ;
My wounds bleed all anew :
Of lash laid on by you.
Tom MULLINIX and Dick.
And both had equal knowledge ;
But Dick had seen the college. Dick a coxcomb, Tom was mad,
And both alike diverting ; Tom was held the merrier lad,
But Dick the best at farting. Dick would cock his nose in scorn,
But Tom was kind and loving ; Tom a footboy bred and born,
But Dick was from an oven. Dick could neatly dance a jig, But Tom was beft at borees; VOL. VII.
Tom would pray for ev'ry Whig,
And Dick curse all the Tories.
And fcold at an election ;
And held them in subjection.
Dick nimbly skip the gutter;
But Dick could better sputter. Dick was come to high renown
Since he commenc'd physician ;
The deeper politician.
His hat could nicely put on ;
His cane upon a button. Dick for repartee was fit,
And Tom for deep discerning ; Dick was thought the brighter wit,
But Tom had better learning. Dick with zealous no's and ay's
Could roar as loud as Stentor, In the house 'tis all he fays ;
But Tom is eloquenter.
Dick, A MAGGOT.
AS when from rooting
in a bin,
With powder'd rump, and back and fide,
CLAD ALL IN BROWN.
Imitated from COWLEY.
FOULEST brute that ftinks below,
Why in this brown dost thou appear? For, wouldst thou make a fouler show,
Thou must go naked all the year. Presh from the mud a wallowing fow Would then be not so brown as thou. 'Tis not the coat that looks so dun;
His hide emits a foulness out;
Seen from behind a dirty clout :
All outward and within is foul ;
Thy body's clothed like thy foul;
When pelted all with dirt they shine;
Such their exalted bodies are,
As shrivel'd and as black as thine.
The neighbours think, it is but just,
And weekly carry out the dust. Of cleanly houses who will doubt, When Dick cries, Duff to carry out?
ULL uniformity in fools
I hate, who gape and sneer by rules.
But then consider Dick, you'll find
Swear they were with the Swedes at Bender,.
But Dick can fart, and dance, and frisk,
Part of the gth ode of the fourth book of Hoc
RACE, addressed to Dr WILLIAM KING, late: Lord Archbishop of Dublin.
Paulum sepultæ, &C.
Is inactivity at best :
IQ Pale Avarice, and lurking Fraud Stand in your sacred presence aw'd ; ; Your hand alone from gold abftains, Which drags the flavish world in chains.