Conceal, as honour would, his grace's bum,
When the rude bullet a large collop tore
Out of that buttock never turned before;
Fortune, it seems, would give him by that lash
Gentle correction for his fight so rash;
But should the Rump perceive't, they'd say that Mars
Has thus avenged them upon Aumarle's ——.
The bard elsewhere gives his grace the admonition,
Guard thy posteriours, George, ere all be gone;
Though jury-masts, thou'st jury-buttocks none.