A Left-Handed Letter

Delany reports it, and he has a shrewd tongue,

That we both act the part of the clown and cow-dung;

We lie cramming ourselves, and are ready to burst,

Yet still are no wiser than we were at first.

Pudet haec opprobria, I freely must tell ye,

Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli.

Though Delany advised you to plague me no longer,

You reply and rejoin like Hoadly of Bangor[2];

I must now, at one sitting, pay off my old score;

How many to answer? One, two, three, or four,

But, because the three former are long ago past,

I shall, for method-sake, begin with the last.

You treat me like a boy that knocks down his foe,

Who, ere t'other gets up, demands the rising blow.

Yet I know a young rogue, that, thrown flat on the field,

Would, as he lay under, cry out, Sirrah! yield.

So the French, when our generals soundly did pay them,

Went triumphant to church, and sang stoutly, Te Deum.

So the famous Tom Leigh[3], when quite run a-ground,

Comes off by out-laughing the company round:

In every vile pamphlet you'll read the same fancies,

Having thus overthrown all our farther advances.

My offers of peace you ill understood;

Friend Sheridan, when will you know your own good?

'Twas to teach you in modester language your duty;

For, were you a dog, I could not be rude t'ye;

As a good quiet soul, who no mischief intends

To a quarrelsome fellow, cries, Let us be friends.

But we like Ant us and Hercules fight,

The oftener you fall, the oftener you write:

And I'll use you as he did that overgrown clown,

I'll first take you up, and then take you down;

And, 'tis your own case, for you never can wound

The worst dunce in your school, till he's heaved from the ground.

I beg your pardon for using my left hand, but I was in great haste, and

the other hand was employed at the same time in writing some letters of

business. September 20, 1718. - I will send you the rest when I have

leisure: but pray come to dinner with the company you met here last.