ANSWER TO A CHALLENGE.
At a late meeting under a commission of bankruptcy, at Andover, between Mr. Fleet and Mr. Mann, both respectable solicitors of that town, some disagreement arose, which ended in the former sending the latter a challenge, to which the following answer was returned.
To Kingston Fleet, Esq.
I am honour’d this day, sir, with challenges two,
The first from friend Langdon, the second from you;
As the one is to fight, and the other to dine,
I accept his “engagement,” and yours must decline.
Now, in giving this preference, I trust you’ll admit
I have acted with prudence, and done what was fit,
Since encountering him, and my weapon a knife,
There is some little chance of preserving my life;
Whilst a bullet from you, sir, might take it away,
And the maxim, you know, is to live while you may.
If, however, you still should suppose I ill-treat you,
By sternly rejecting this challenge to meet you,
Bear with me a moment, and I will adduce
Three powerful reasons by way of excuse:
In the first place, unless I am grossly deceiv’d,
I myself am in conscience the party aggriev’d;
And therefore, good sir, if a challenge must be,
Pray wait till that challenge be tender’d by me.
Again, sir, I think it by far the more sinful,
To stand and be shot, than to sit for a skinful;
From whence you’ll conclude (as I’d have you, indeed)
That fighting composes not part of my creed—
And my courage (which, though it was never disputed,
Is not, I imagine, too, too deeply rooted)
Would prefer that its fruit, sir, whate’er it may yield,
Should appear at “the table,” and not in “the field.”
And, lastly, my life, be it never forgot,
Possesses a value which yours, sir, does not;[208]
So I mean to preserve it as long as I can,
Being justly entitled “a family Man,”
With three or four children, (I scarce know how many,)
Whilst you, sir, have not, or ought not, to have any.
Besides, that the contest would be too unequal,
I doubt not will plainly appear by the sequel:
For e’en you must acknowledge it would not be meet
That one small “Mann of war” should engage “a whole Fleet.”
Andover, July 24, 1826.
[208] Mr. Fleet is a batchelor.
SIGNS OF LOVE, AT OXFORD.
By an Inn-consolable Lover.
She’s as light as the Greyhound, and fair as the Angel;
Her looks than the Mitre more sanctified are;
But she flies like the Roebuck, and leaves me to range ill,
Still looking to her as my true polar Star.
New Inn-ventions I try, with new art to adore,
But my fate is, alas! to be voted a Boar;
My Goats I forsook to contemplate her charms,
And must own she is fit for our noble King’s Arms.
Now Cross’d, and now Jockey’d, now sad, now elate,
The Chequers appear but a map of my fate;
I blush’d like a Blue-cur to send her a Pheasant,
But she call’d me a Turk, and rejected my present;
So I moped to the Barley-mow, griev’d in my mind,
That the Ark from the flood ever rescu’d mankind!
In my dreams Lions roar, and the Green Dragon grins
And fiends rise in shape of the Seven deadly sins.
When I ogle the Bells, should I see her approach,
I skip like a Nag and jump into the Coach.
She is crimson and white, like a Shoulder of Mutton,
Not the red of the Ox was so bright, when first put on:
Like the Hollybush prickles, she scratches my liver,
While I moan, and I die like the Swan by the river!