"If thou haft ought to speak, fpeak out." Then Lancaster did cry, "Know'st thou not me, nor yet thy felf? "Know'st thou not me, who (God be prais'd) "In Senates fam'd for many a Speech, 66 "Still of the Dutchy Chancellor, "Durante Life I have it; "And turn, as now thou doft on me, But now the Servants they rush'd in ; I will not cope against such odds, But, Guife! I'll fight with thee: To-morrow with thee will I fight VOL. IV. I And And now the Sun declining low Beftreak'd with Blood the Skies; When, with his Sword at Saddle Bow, Rode forth the valiant Guise; Full gently praunch'd he o'er the Lawn; And from the Stirrup ftretch'd, to find Who was not to be found. Long brandifh'd he the Blade in Air, At length he fpy'd the Merry-men brown, From out the Boot bold Nicholas All in that dreadful Hour, fo calm As if he meant to take the Air, And fo he did for to New Court: His rowling Wheels did run: Not that he fhunn'd the doubtful Strife, But Bus'nefs must be done. Back Back in the Dark, by Brompton Park, Mean while Duke Guise did fret and fume, Then, wet and weary, home he far'd, "The Day I meet him, Nic. fhall rue "Mean Time on every Piffing-Poft Now God preserve our gracious King! May learn this Leffon from Duke Nic. IF meagre Gildon draws his venal Quill, I wish the Man a Dinner, and fit ftill. If dreadful Dennis raves in furious Fret, I'll answer Dennis when I am in Debt.. 'Tis Hunger, and not Malice, makes them print, And who'll wage War with Bedlam or the Mint? SHOULD fome more fober Criticks come abroad, If wrong, I fmile; if right, I kifa the Rod.. Pains, Reading, Study, are their juft Pretence, And all they want is Spirit, Tafte, and Sense. Commas and Points they fet exactly right; And 'twere a Sin to rob them of their Mite. Yet ne'er one Sprig of Laurel grac'd thofe Ribbalds, From flashing By down to pidling Tibbalds: Who thinks he reads, when he but feans and Spells, A Word-catcher, that lives on Syllables. Yet ev❜n this Creature may fome notice claim, Wrapt round and fanctify'd with Shakespear's Name. Pretty, in Amber to obferve the Forms Of Hairs, or Straws, or Dirt, or Grubs, or Worms: The The Thing, we know, is neither rich nor rare, ARE others angry? I excufe them too, Well may they rage; I give them but their Due. Steals much, fpends little, yet has nothing left: * Johnson, who now to Senfe, now Nonfenfe lean ing, Means not, but blunders round about a Meaning; It is not Poetry, but Profe run mad: And own that nine fuch Poets make a Tate; How wou'd they fume, and flamp, and roar, and chafe! How wou'd they fwear, not Congreve's felf was fafe! *Author of the Victim, and Cobler of Preston. + Verfe of Dr. Ev. |