Picking wit among collegians,
In the playhouse upper regions;
Where, in the eighteen-penny gallery,
Irish nymphs learn Irish raillery. 
But thy merit is thy failing,
And thy raillery is railing. 
  Thus with talents well endued
To be scurrilous and rude;
When you pertly raise your snout,
Fleer and gibe, and laugh and flout;
This among Hibernian asses
For sheer wit and humour passes. 
Thus indulgent Chloe, bit,
Swears you have a world of wit.

EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH[1]

Who can believe with common sense,
A bacon slice gives God offence;
Or, how a herring has a charm
Almighty vengeance to disarm? 
Wrapp’d up in majesty divine,
Does he regard on what we dine?

[Footnote 1:  A French gentleman dining with some company on a fast-day,
called for some bacon and eggs.  The rest were very angry, and reproved
him for so heinous a sin; whereupon he wrote the following lines, which
are translated above: 
  “Peut-on croire avec bon sens
    Qu’un lardon le mil en colere,
  Ou, que manger un hareng,
    C’est un secret pour lui plaire? 
  En sa gloire envelope,
  Songe-t-il bien de nos soupes?”—­H.]

EPIGRAM[1]

As Thomas was cudgell’d one day by his wife,
He took to the street, and fled for his life: 
Tom’s three dearest friends came by in the squabble,
And saved him at once from the shrew and the rabble;
Then ventured to give him some sober advice—­
But Tom is a person of honour so nice,
Too wise to take counsel, too proud to take warning,
That he sent to all three a challenge next morning. 
Three duels he fought, thrice ventur’d his life;
Went home, and was cudgell’d again by his wife.

[Footnote 1:  Collated with copy transcribed by Stella.—­Forster.]

EPIGRAM ADDED BY STELLA[1]

When Margery chastises Ned,
She calls it combing of his head;
A kinder wife was never born: 
She combs his head, and finds him horn.

[Footnote 1:  From Stella’s copy in the Duke of Bedford’s volume.—­Forster.]

JOAN CUDGELS NED

Joan cudgels Ned, yet Ned’s a bully;
Will cudgels Bess, yet Will’s a cully. 
Die Ned and Bess; give Will to Joan,
She dares not say her life’s her own. 
Die Joan and Will; give Bess to Ned,
And every day she combs his head.

VERSES ON TWO CELEBRATED MODERN POETS