392
SWIFT'S POEMS.
We hate your empty prattle;
And vow and swear 'tis true,
There's more in one child's rattle.
Than twenty fops like you.
THE BEAU'S REPLY
TO THE
FIVE LADIES ANSWER.
WHY, how now dapper Black,
I smell your gown and cassock,
As strong upon your back,
As Tisdal[1] smells of a sock.
To write such scurvy stuff!
Fine ladies never do't;
I know you well enough,
And eke your cloven foot.
Fine ladies, when they write,
Nor scold, nor keep a splutter:
Their verses give delight,
As soft and sweet as butter.
But Satan never saw
Such haggard lines as these:
They stick athwart my maw,
As bad as Suffolk cheese.
THE
