But this idol Wood may do us great evil :

Their Gods were of Wood; but our Wood is the

Devil.

To cut down fine Wood, is a very bad thing;

And yet we all know much gold it will bring : Then, if cutting down Wood brings money good ftore,

Our money to keep, let us cut down one more.

Now hear an old tale. There anciently stood (I forget in what church) an image of Wood. Concerning this image, there went a prediction, It would burn a whole foreft; nor was it a fiction. "Twas cut into faggots and put to the flame, To burn an old Friar, one Foreft by name. My tale is a wife one, if well understood Find you but the Friar; and I'll find the Wood.

;

I hear, among scholars there is a great doubt, From what kind of tree this Wood was hewn out. Teague made a good pun by a brogue in his fpeech; And faid, "By my fhoul, he's the fon of a BEECH. Some call him a Thorn, the curfe of the nation, As Thorns were defign'd to be from the creation." Some think him cut out from the poisonous Yew; Beneath whofe ill fhade no plant ever grew. Some fay he's a Birch, a thought very odd; For none bnt a dunce would come under his rod. But I'll tell you the fecret; and pray do not blab: He is an old ftump, cut out of a Crab ; And England has put this Crab to a hard ufe, To cudgel our bones, and for drink give us verjuice; And therefore his witneffes juftly may boast, That none are more properly knights of the Post.

I ne'er

332

I ne'er could endure my talent to fmother:
I told you one tale, and I'll tell you another.
A joiner, to faften a faint in a nitch,

Bor'd a large auger-hole in the image's breech.
But, finding the ftatue to make no complaint,
He would ne'er be convinced it was a true faint.
When the true Wood arrives, as he foon will, no
doubt,

(For that's but a fham Wood they carry about * ;)
What stuff he is made of you quickly may find,
If you
make the fame trial, and bore him behind,
I'll hold you a groat, when you wimble his bum,

He'll bellow as loud as the Devil in a drum.
From me, I declare, you
fhall have no denial;
And there can be no harm in making a trial :
And, when to the joy of your hearts he has roar'd,
You may fhew him about for a new groaning board.
Hear one story more, and then I will stop.
I dreamt Wood was told he should die by a drop:
So methought he refolved no liquor to taste,
For fear the first drop might as well be his last.
But dreams are like oracles; 'tis hard to explain'em;
For it prov'd that he died of a drop at Kilmainham †.
I wak'd with delight; and not without hope,
Very foon to fee Wood drop down from a rope.
How he, and how we, at each other fhould grin!
"Tis kindness to hold a friend up by the chin,
But foft! fays the Herald; I cannot agree;
For metal on metal is falfe Heraldry.

Why, that may be true; yet
be true; yet Wood upon Wood,

I'll maintain with my life, is Heraldry good.

He was frequently burnt in effigy.

Their place of execution.

то

IT

TO DR. SHERIDAN*.

SIR,

T is impoffible to know by your letter whether the wine is to be bottled to-morrow, or no. If it be, or be not, why did not you, in plain Englifh tell us fo?

For my part, it was by mere chance I came to fit with the ladies † this night:

And if they had not told me there was a letter from you; and your man Alexander had not gone, and come back from the deanry; and the boy here had not been fent to let Alexander know I was here; I fhould have miffed the letter outright.

Truly I don't know who's bound to be fending for corks to stop your bottles, with a vengeance. Make a page of your own age, and fend your man Alexander to buy corks; for Saunders already has gone above ten jaunts.

Mrs. Dingley and Mrs. Johnfon fay, truly they don't care for your wife's company, though they like your wine; but they had rather have it at their own house to drink in quiet.

However, they own it is very civil in Mr. Sheridan to make the offer; and they cannot deny it.

In this letter, though written in profe, the reader upon exa mining, will find each fecond fentence rhimes to the former.

+ Mrs. Johnfon and Mrs. Dingley.

I wish Alexander fafe at St. Catherine's to-night, with all my heart and foul, upon my word and

honour :

But I think it bafe in you to fend a poor fellow out

so late at this time of year, when one would not turn out a dog that one valued; I appeal to your friend Mr. Connor.

I would prefent my humble fervice to my lady Mountcashel; but truly I thought she would have made advances to have been acquainted with me, as fhe pretended.

But now I can write no more, for you fee plainly my paper is ended.

I P. S.

I wish, when you prated, your letter you'd dated:
Much plague it created. I fcolded and rated;
My foul is much grated; for your man I long waited.
I think you are fated, like a bear to be baited:
Your man is belated; the cafe I have stated;
And me you have cheated. My ftable's unflated.
Come back t' us well freighted.

I remember my late head; and wish

you tranflated,

For teazing me.

2 P. S.

Mrs. Dingley defires me fingly

Her service to present you; hopes that will content

you;

But Johnson madam is grown a fad dame,

For want of your converfe, and cannot fend one

verse.

3 P. S.

You keep fuch a twattling with you and

bottling ;

your

But I fee the fum total, we fhall ne'er have a bottle;
The long and the fhort, we fhall not have a quart.
I wish you would fign't, that we have a pint.
For all your colloguing, I'd be glad of a knoggin*:
But I doubt 'tis a fham; you won't give us a dram.
'Tis of shine a month moon-full, you won't part
with a spoonfull,

And I must be nimble, if I can fill my thimble.
You fee I won't ftop, till I come to a drop;

But I doubt the oraculum, is a poor fupernaculum;
Though perhaps you may tell it, for a grace if we

fmell it.

STELLA.

DR. SHERIDAN TO DR. SWIFT.

I'D have you to know, as fure as you're Dean,
On Thursday my cafk of Obrien I'll drain:
If my wife is not willing, I fay fhe's a quean;
And my right to the cellar, egad, I'll maintain
As bravely as any that fought at Dunblain:
Go tell her it over and over again.

I hope, as I ride to the town, it won't rain;
For, fhould it, I fear it will cool my hot brain,
Entirely extinguish my poetic vein;

And then I fhould be as ftupid as Kain,

Who preach'd on three heads, though he mention'd but twain.

A knoggin is a name used in Ireland for the English quartern.

Now