On that immortal Author wreak thy Spite,
[c] And on his Monument thy Nonsense write.
Should Theobald thy presumptuous Errors shew,
Be thou to Theobald an invet’rate Foe.
Cibber shall foremost in thy Satyrs stand;
His Plays succeed, and thine was justly damn’d.
But Colley call him, when thou would’st declame;
Great is the Jest that lies in Colley’s Name.
Beware all ye, whom he as Friends carest,
How ye entrust your Secrets to his Breast.