How would he run from thee, in naked truth,
Who blow'st both hot and cold from the same mouth!
"The Mushroom" concludes with the following awful threat; which, doubtless, must have greatly appalled Dryden:
I'll take thy laurells from thee, if I list,
An honour to my fairer brow when mist;
'Tis a day thrown away, (no more) think I,
No more it was, yet—diem perdidi,
Unless it be to make thy Satyre fell,
And Tonson begged this boon, which some think well.
Thy Satyre, three months old, a cripple came