Now as he scratched to fetch up thought,
Forth popped the sprite so thin;
And from the key-hole bolted out,
All upright as a pin.
With whiskers, band, and pantaloon,
And ruff composed most duly;
The squire he dropped his pen full soon,
While as the light burnt bluely.
"Ho! Master Sam," quoth Sandys' sprite,
"Write on, nor let me scare ye;
Forsooth, if rhymes fall in not right,
To Budgell seek, or Carey.
"I hear the beat of Jacob's drums,
Poor Ovid finds no quarter!
See first the merry P---- comes[197]
In haste, without his garter.
"Then lords and lordlings, squires and knights,
Wits, witlings, prigs, and peers!
Garth at St. James's, and at White's,
Beats up for volunteers.
"What Fenton will not do, nor Gay,
Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan,
Tom Burnett or Tom D'Urfey may,
John Dunton, Steele, or anyone.
"If Justice Philips' costive head
Some frigid rhymes disburses;
They shall like Persian tales be read,
And glad both babes and nurses.
"Let Warwick's muse with Ashurst join,
And Ozell's with Lord Hervey's:
Tickell and Addison combine,
And Pope translate with Jervas.
"Lansdowne himself, that lively lord,
Who bows to every lady,
Shall join with Frowde in one accord,
And be like Tate and Brady.
"Ye ladies too draw forth your pen,
I pray where can the hurt lie?
Since you have brains as well as men,
As witness Lady Wortley.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179