XXXI.
For pert malignity observ’d alone,
In all things else unnotic’d, and unknown;
Obscurely odious, PRETTY pass’d his days,
Till more inventive talents won our lays.
“Now write, he cries, an Epigram’s my pride:
Who wou’d have known me, if I ne’er had ly’d?”
XXXII.
With pious whine, and hypocritic snivel,
Our fathers said, “Tell truth, and shame the Devil!”
A nobler way bold PR——TT——N is trying,
He seeks to shame the Devil—by outlying,
XXXIII.
(In answer to a former.)
No cloven tongue the Doctor boasts from heav’n,
Such gifts but little wou’d the Doctor boot;
For preaching Truth the cloven tongues were giv’n,
His lyes demonstrate more the cloven foot.
XXXIV.
Maxims, says PRETT, and adages of old,
Were circumscrib’d, though clever;
Thus Truth they taught, not always should be told;
But I maintain, not ever.
XXXV.
In the drama of CONGREVE, how charm’d do we read
Of Spintext the Parson, and Maskwell the Cheat,
But in life would you study them closer, indeed,
For equal originals—see Downing-street.