A collection of poems on Several Occasions Publish'd in the Craftsman. By Caleb D'Anvers of Gray's Inn, Esq [i.e. Nicholas Amhurst] |
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The Pacification.
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 | A collection of poems on Several Occasions |  |
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The Pacification.
Nick
Dapper, and the great De*l**ne,
Against whom Nick so oft has drawn
His hostile Pen, one Night last Week
Met at the Mitre, Joul by Cheek.
Unsought on both Sides was the Meeting,
So there was very little greeting;
No sparring Words nor formal Farce,
Your Servant, Sir, or kiss my A*se;
But down they sate, drank to the next,
Yet in their Stomachs somewhat vext;
Nick view'd the Doctor very hard;
The Doctor scowl'd upon the Bard;
But both the Poet and the Head,
Being, you know, extremely bred,
Scorn'd to disturb the jovial Table
With their old Piques and College Squabble.
Against whom Nick so oft has drawn
His hostile Pen, one Night last Week
Met at the Mitre, Joul by Cheek.
Unsought on both Sides was the Meeting,
So there was very little greeting;
No sparring Words nor formal Farce,
Your Servant, Sir, or kiss my A*se;
But down they sate, drank to the next,
Yet in their Stomachs somewhat vext;
Nick view'd the Doctor very hard;
The Doctor scowl'd upon the Bard;
But both the Poet and the Head,
Being, you know, extremely bred,
Scorn'd to disturb the jovial Table
With their old Piques and College Squabble.
Thus for some Hours, with silent Grudge,
They sate Mum-chance, as you may judge,
Drank a great deal, and now and then
Popt in a Word with other Men.
At length, St. Dunstan's Clock struck One,
And all the sober Cuffs were gone;
The rest, who were inclined to stay,
Call'd for a Bottle and to pay;
The Doctor and the Bard made two,
Who are no Starters, you all know.
They sate Mum-chance, as you may judge,
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Popt in a Word with other Men.
At length, St. Dunstan's Clock struck One,
And all the sober Cuffs were gone;
The rest, who were inclined to stay,
Call'd for a Bottle and to pay;
The Doctor and the Bard made two,
Who are no Starters, you all know.
Good Wine, they say, sharp Quarrels ends,
And of old Foes makes lasting Friends;
Which once, for Instance, happen'd here,
As by the Sequel will appear.
And of old Foes makes lasting Friends;
Which once, for Instance, happen'd here,
As by the Sequel will appear.
They soon grew warm, and, e'er they parted,
Were very frank and open-hearted,
Talk'd twenty different Matters o'er;
The more they talk'd, agreed the more;
They laugh'd, and intermix'd their Chat
With Puns and Quibbles very pat;
The Doctor toasted Mrs. W**d,
And Nick another, full as good.
Were very frank and open-hearted,
Talk'd twenty different Matters o'er;
The more they talk'd, agreed the more;
They laugh'd, and intermix'd their Chat
With Puns and Quibbles very pat;
The Doctor toasted Mrs. W**d,
And Nick another, full as good.
Then quoth the Poet to the Don,
“How does our Friend, the Great Sir John?
“For if I fail not in my Wine,
“He was your Patron, well as mine.”
The Doctor smiled, well pleased to railly
The Bites, and Bubbles of the Alley,
Rail'd at South-Sea and modern Jobbing,
With some broad Hints against one Robin.
“How does our Friend, the Great Sir John?
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“He was your Patron, well as mine.”
The Doctor smiled, well pleased to railly
The Bites, and Bubbles of the Alley,
Rail'd at South-Sea and modern Jobbing,
With some broad Hints against one Robin.
On which, said Nick, “for eight long Years,
“We've been together by the Ears,
“On both Sides made a great ado;
“You turn'd me out; I libell'd you;
“For my Part, Doctor, I confess
“Myself in Fault; I can no less;
“I was a Fool and see my Folly,
“Which makes me wondrous melancholy,
“For rather than have thus been bamm'd
“I wish the Whigs had all been d****d.
“We've been together by the Ears,
“On both Sides made a great ado;
“You turn'd me out; I libell'd you;
“For my Part, Doctor, I confess
“Myself in Fault; I can no less;
“I was a Fool and see my Folly,
“Which makes me wondrous melancholy,
“For rather than have thus been bamm'd
“I wish the Whigs had all been d****d.
The Doctor answer'd very mellow,
“Faith, thou'rt an hon—hon—honest Fellow!
“How could I use thee so?—alass!
“I blush to look thee in the Face;
“But 'twas against my Will—you know
“How with your Friend, Nick, Matters go;
“You understand—and so I hope—a
“I wish the Rascals all a Rope—
“Do, prithee, Nick! forgive me, do;
“Behold these Tears; see how they flow;
“I ask your Pardon, and, in short,
“Am very—hiccup!—sorry for't;
“For rather than have caus'd this Evil,
“I would the Ch*ch were at the Devil.
“Faith, thou'rt an hon—hon—honest Fellow!
“How could I use thee so?—alass!
“I blush to look thee in the Face;
“But 'twas against my Will—you know
“How with your Friend, Nick, Matters go;
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“I wish the Rascals all a Rope—
“Do, prithee, Nick! forgive me, do;
“Behold these Tears; see how they flow;
“I ask your Pardon, and, in short,
“Am very—hiccup!—sorry for't;
“For rather than have caus'd this Evil,
“I would the Ch*ch were at the Devil.
“Here then, quoth Nick, our Quarrel ends,
“And from henceforth We two are Friends;
“And cursed be he, whose plotting Brain
“Shall strive to make us Foes again.
“And from henceforth We two are Friends;
“And cursed be he, whose plotting Brain
“Shall strive to make us Foes again.
“Ay, cursed be he, the Don reply'd,
“Who shall henceforth our Love divide;
“Cursed be the Villain! whether Doctor,
“Or Brother-Head, or Cousin-Proctor,
“Vice-Chancellor or Senior Fellow;
“E'en let them rail, and roar and bellow;
“Of what e'er Standing or Degree,
“I'll quit them all to tope with Thee;
“For, entre nous, those hooded Gentry
“Are sad dull Rogues, Nineteen in Twenty,
“Damn'd, dreaming, empty Sculs! and rather
“Than smoke a Pipe with H*le or M****r,
“I would, dear Nick,—hold! let me think—
“I'd fast twelve Hours from Meat and Drink.
“Who shall henceforth our Love divide;
“Cursed be the Villain! whether Doctor,
“Or Brother-Head, or Cousin-Proctor,
“Vice-Chancellor or Senior Fellow;
“E'en let them rail, and roar and bellow;
“Of what e'er Standing or Degree,
“I'll quit them all to tope with Thee;
“For, entre nous, those hooded Gentry
“Are sad dull Rogues, Nineteen in Twenty,
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“Than smoke a Pipe with H*le or M****r,
“I would, dear Nick,—hold! let me think—
“I'd fast twelve Hours from Meat and Drink.
“Dear Sir, quoth Nick, compose your Mind,
“You make me blush, you are so kind;
“My guilty Works rise up to Sight;
“How, Doctor, shall I do you Right?
“My Poems, Pamphlets, Dedications,
“Lewd Tales and tragical Relations
“From Grub-street and the Lord knows whence,
“Each Page that gives the least Offence,
“(Ev'n that unlucky Bastard Terry,
“Who with your Reverence makes so merry,)
“To morrow shall in Flames arise,
“For a Burnt-Offering to the Skies.
“You make me blush, you are so kind;
“My guilty Works rise up to Sight;
“How, Doctor, shall I do you Right?
“My Poems, Pamphlets, Dedications,
“Lewd Tales and tragical Relations
“From Grub-street and the Lord knows whence,
“Each Page that gives the least Offence,
“(Ev'n that unlucky Bastard Terry,
“Who with your Reverence makes so merry,)
“To morrow shall in Flames arise,
“For a Burnt-Offering to the Skies.
“What, burn thy Works so arch and pretty!
“No, quoth the Doctor, that's a Pity;
“Such Favours how can I acknowledge?—
“Come, here's Confusion to the College.
“But! O dear Nick, once more go down,
“and visit that ungrateful Town;
“For though by an unjust Decree,
“(and Oh! dire Thought! pronounc'd by me)
“Thou from St. John's art driv'n away,
“Of buzzing, witless Drones the Prey,
“At my own Lodgings thou shalt lye,
“And all the strutting Sots defye,
“Eat and drink well at College-Charge,
“And be as welcome—as King George.
“No, quoth the Doctor, that's a Pity;
“Such Favours how can I acknowledge?—
“Come, here's Confusion to the College.
“But! O dear Nick, once more go down,
“and visit that ungrateful Town;
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“(and Oh! dire Thought! pronounc'd by me)
“Thou from St. John's art driv'n away,
“Of buzzing, witless Drones the Prey,
“At my own Lodgings thou shalt lye,
“And all the strutting Sots defye,
“Eat and drink well at College-Charge,
“And be as welcome—as King George.
| A collection of poems on Several Occasions | |