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UPON HEARING THAT HIS NAMB WOULD BE TRANS•
MITTED TO POSTERITY IN DR. SWIFT's WORKS.
Well! now, since the heat of my passion's abated, That the Dean hath lampoon'd me, my mind is
elated :Lampoon'd did I call it?-No-what was it then ? What was it ?-'Twas fame to be lash'd by his pen : For had he not pointed me out, I had slept till E'en doomsday, a poor insignificant reptile, Half lawyer, half actor, pert, dull, and inglorious, Obscure, and unheard of- but now I'm notorious. Fame has but two gates, a white and a black one, The worst they can say is, I got in at the back one: If the end be obtain'd 'tis equal what portal I enter, since I'm to be render'd immortal: So clysters applied to the anus, 'tis said, By skilful physicians, give ease to the head Though my title be spurious, why should I be
dastard, A man is a man, though he should be a'bastard. Why sure 'tis some comfort that heroes should slay us, If I fall, I would fall by the hand of Æneas; And who, by the Drapier would not rather damn'd be, Than demigoddized by madrigal Namby *.
A man is no more, who has once lost his breath; But poets convince us there's life after death. They call from their graves the king or the peasant, React our old deeds, and make what's past present;
* Ambrose Philips. N.
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And when they would study to set forth a like,
THE YAHOO'S OVERTHROW; OR, THE
KEVAN BAYL'S NEW BALLAD,
UPON SERGEANT KITE'S INSULTING THE DEAN.
To the Tune of, Derry down.
Jolly boys of St. Kevan's, St. Patrick's, Donoré,
Knock him down, down, down, knock him down.
The Dean and his merits we every one know, But this skip of a lawyer, where the De’el did he
How greater his merit at Four Courts of House,
Knock him down, &c. That he came from the Temple, his morals do
show; But where his deep law is, few mortals yet know : His rhetorick, bombast, silly jests, are by far More like to lampooning, than pleading at bar.
Knock him down, &c. This pedlar, at speaking and making of laws, Has met with returns of all sorts but applause; Has, with noise and odd gestures, been prating some
years, What honester folks never durst for their ears.
Knock him down, &c. Of all sizes and sorts, the fanatical crew Are his brother protestants, good men and true, Red hat, and blue bonnet, and turban's the same, What the De'el is't to him whence the Devil they came?
Knock him down, &c.
Hobbes, Tindal, and Woolston, and Collins, and
Nayler, And Muggleton, Toland, and Bradleỳ the Taylor, Are Christians alike;
be averr’d, He's a Christian as good as the rest of the herd.
Knock him down, &c. He only the rights of the clergy debates, Their rights! their inportance ! We'll set on new
rates On their tithes at half-nothing, their priesthood at
less : What's next to be voted with ease you may guess.
Knock him down, &c.
At length his old master (I need not bini name) To this damnable speaker had long ow'd a shame; When his speech came abroad, he paid him off clean, By leaving him under the pen of the Dean.
Knock him down, &c. He kindled, as if the whole satire had been The oppression of virtue, not wagos of sin : He began, as he bragg’d, with a rant and a roar; He bragg'd how he bounc'd, and he swore how he
Knock him down, &c. Though he cring'd to his deanship in very low
strains, To others he boasted of knocking out brains, And slitting of noses, and cropping of ears, While his own ass's zags were more fit for the shears.
Knock him down, &c. On this worrier of deans whene'er we can hit, We'll show him the way how to crop and to slit; We'll teach him some better address to afford To the Dean of all deans, though he wears not a sword.
Knock him down, &c. We'll colt him through Kevan, St. Patrick's,
Donore, And Smithfield, as rap was ne'er colted before; We'll oil him with kennel, and powder him with
grains, A modus right fit for insulters.of deans.
Knock him down, &c. And, when this is over, we'll make him amends, To the Dean he shall go; they shall kiss and be
But how? Why, the Dean shall to him disclose
Knock him down, &c. If you say this is hard on a man that is reckon'd That sergeant attaw whom we call Kite the Second, You mistake; for a slave, who will coax his superiours, May be proud to be licking a great man's posteriours.
Knock him down, &c. What care we how high runs his passion or pride? Though his soul he despises, he values his hide; Then fear not his tongue, or his sword, or his knife; He'll take his revenge on his innocent wife.
Knock him down, down, down, keep him down,
ON THE ARCHBISHOP OF CASHEL,
AND BETTES WORTH. Dear Dick, prythee tell by what passion you move? The world is in doubt; whether hatred or love; And, while at good Cashel you rail with such spite, They shrewdly suspect it is all but a bite. You certainly know, though so loudly you vapour, His spite cannot wound, who attempted the Drapier. Then, prithee, reflect, take a word of advice; And, as your old wont is, change sides in a trice: On his virtues hold forth; 'tis the very best way; And say of the man what all honest men say, But if, still obdurate, your anger remains, If still your foul bosom more rancour contains; Say then more than they; nay, lavishly flatter, 'Tis your gross panegyricks alone can bespatter: For thine, my dear Dick, give me leave to speak plain, Like very
mops, dirty more than they clean.