 | A Collection of Original Poems |  |
137
To the AUTHOR.
In Answer to the foregoing Epistle.
I have not leisure, honest Derrick,To answer yours in diction cleric;
But yet must let you know, in rhyme,
That near to the appointed time,
The tall, heroic gallic fencer,
Will meet the small dramatic censor;
And swallow, near his cinder fire,
O'er a pot of right entire,
The liquor that I most admire;
His smart remarks on ev'ry sage,
Both of the last and present age;
138
To the more wretched scrawler,—
Laugh at the mob, so idly scanning
The black affair of Betsy Canning;
And at more follies, than now tumble
Into the pate of, sir, your humble, &c. &c.
This and the succeeding line allude to some private anecdotes relating to the author of this letter, and the person to whom it is addressed.
Durfey and ---, two wretched scriblers, the former was famous in the days of Charles the second, the latter breath'd in the days of George the second, and was cobler of several scurrilous pieces, which he did not dare to own, being for courage, a very Falstaff, for intrigue, a Petulant, and for wit, a Witwou'd.
| A Collection of Original Poems | |