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With Spanish wool he dy'd bis cheek,
With essence oil'd his bair; No vixen civet cat so sweet,
Nor could so scratch and tear.
Right tall he made himself to show,
Though made full short by God:
This duke did only nod.
To Guise's duke was he:
How could they disagree?
Oh, thus it was: he lov'd him dear,
And cast how to reguite him: And, having no friend left but this,
He deem'd it meet to fight him. Forthwith he drench'd his desp'rate quill,
And thus he did indite : “ This eve at whisk ourself will play,
Sir duke! be here to night.” « Ah no! ah no!" the guileless Guise
Demurely did reply;
So sore the gout have I.”
And fiercely drove them on;
O kingly Kensington!
Thrust out his lady dear :
And smote bim on the ear,
But mark, how 'midst of victory
Fate plays her oid dog trick ! Up leap'd duke John, and knock'd him down,
And so down fell duke Nic.
Alas, O Nic.! O Nic. alas !
Right did thy gossip call thee: As who should say, alas the day
When John of Guise shall maul thee!
And on that chair did sit ;
To do-what was not fit.
Up didst thou look, O woful duke!
Thy mouth yet durst not ope, Certes for fear of finding there
At-d, instead of trópe. “ Lie there, thou caitiff vile!" quoth Guise;
No shift is here to save thee : The casement it is shut likewise; Beneath
feet I have thee..
If thou hast ought to speak, speak out."
Then Lancastere did cry, “ Know'st thou not me, nor yet thyself?
Who thou, and who am I? Know'st thou not me, who (God be prais’d!)
Have brawld and quarrell d inore, Than all the line of Lancastere,
That battled heretofore ?
In senates fam'd for many a speech,
And (what some awe must give ye, Tho' laid thrus low beneath thy breech).
Still of the council privy;
Still of the duchy chancellor;
Durante life, I have it;
Mine amse on them that gave it.”
But now the servants they rush'd in;
And duke Nic. up leap'd he: “ I will not cope against such odds,
But, Guise ! I'll tight with thee : To-morrow with thee will I fight
Under the green wood tree: “ No, not to morrow, but to night,"
Quoth Guise, “I'll fight with thee."
And now the sun declining low
Bestreak'd with blood the skies; When, with his sword at saddle bow,
Rode forth the valiant Guise,
Full gently pranc'd he o'er the lawn;
Oft rolld his eyes around,
Who was not to be found.
Long brandish'd he the blade in air,
Long look'd the field all o'er : At length he spied the merry-men brown,
And eke the coach and four.
From out the boot bold Nicholas
Did wave his wand so white,
Wherein he meant to fight.
Was Lancastere to see,
Or only take a fee :
And so he did for to New Court
His rolling wheels did run:.
But bus 'ness must be done.
Back in the dark, by Brompton park,
He turn'd up through the Gore; So slunk to Cambden house so high,
All in his coach and four.
Mean while duke Guise did fret and fume,
A sight it was to see,
Under the greenwood tree.
Then, wet and weary, home he far’d,
Sore mutt'ring all the way,
The cudgel of that day.
Paste we this recreant's name,
And piss against the same.”
And grant his nobles all
pride will have a fall."
meagre Gildon draws his venal quill, I wish the man a dinner, and sit suill: If dreadful Denois raves in furious fret, I'll answer Dennis, when I am in debt. "Tis hunger, and vot malice, makes them print; And wholl wage war with Bedlam or the Mint t.
Should some more sober criticks come abroad, If wrong, I sınile ; if right, I kiss the rod. Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence; And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense. Commas and points they set exactly right; And twere a sin to rob them of their mite: Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel grac'd those ribalds, From slashing Bentley | down to piduling Tibalds,
* Thus was this Prem originally entitled, in the “ Miscel. Janies,” published by Swift and Pope in 1727. It was after. ward inserted, 1734-5, with many material alterations, in Mr.. Pope's Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, being the Prologue to the Sdn tires. N.
+ The unexpected turn in the second line of each of these three couplets, contains as cutting and bitter strokes of satire as, perhaps, can be written. It is with difficulty we can forgive our Author for upbraiding these wretched scribblers for their poverty and distresses, if we do not keep in our minds the grossly abusive pamphlets they published ; and, even allowing this circumstance, we ought to separate rancour from reproof:. “ Cur tam crudeles optavit sumere pænas ?"
Dr. WARTON. | This great man, with all his faults, deserved to be put into better company
WARBURTON. Swift imbibed from sir William Temple, and Pope from Swift, an inveterate and unreasonable aversion and contempt for Bentley; but I have been informed, that there was spill an additional cause,