A lady that long'd, is by eating of glue sick;
Did you ever know one in a very good Q sick?
I'm told that my wife is by winding a clew sick ;
The doctors have made her by rhyme' and by rue
sick.

There's a gamester in town, for a throw that he threw sick,

And yet the old trade of his dice he'll pursue sick; I've known an old miser for paying his due sick; At present I'm grown by a pinch of my shoe sick, And what would you have me with verses to do

sick?

Send rhymes, and I'll send you some others in lieu sick.

Of rhymes I have plenty,

And therefore send twenty.

Answered the same day when sent, Nov. 23.

I desire you will carry both these to the Doctor, together with his own; and let him know we are not persons to be insulted.

I was at Howth to-day, and staid abroad a-visiting till just now.

Tuesday Evening, Nov. 23, 1731.

"Can you match with me,
Who send thirty-three?
You must get fourteen more,
To make up thirty-four:

1 Time.-Dublin ed.

But, if me you can conquer,

I'll own you a strong cur.'

This morning I'm growing, by smelling of yew, sick;

My brother's come over with gold from Peru sick; Last night I came home in a storm that then blew sick;

This moment my dog at a cat I halloo sick;

I hear from good hands, that my poor cousin Hugh's

sick;

By quaffing a bottle, and pulling a screw sick: And now there's no more I can write (you'll ex

cuse) sick;

You see that I scorn to mention word music.

I'll do my best,

To send the rest;

Without a jest,

I'll stand the test.

These lines that I send you, I hope you'll peruse sick;

I'll make

you with writing a little more news sick; Last night I came home with drinking of booze

sick;

My carpenter swears that he'll hack and he'll hew sick.

1 The lines "thus marked" were written by Dr. Swift, at the bottom of Dr. Helsham's twenty lines; and the following fourteen were afterwards added on the same paper. ---N.

An officer's lady, I'm told, is tattoo sick;

I'm afraid that the line thirty-four you will view sick.

Lord! I could write a dozen more;
You see I've mounted thirty-four.

A TRUE AND FAITHFUL INVENTORY

Or the goods belonging to Dr. Swift, Vicar of Laracor; Upon lending his house to the Bishop of Meath, until his own was built.'

AN oaken broken elbow-chair;
A caudle cup without an ear;
A batter'd, shatter'd ash bedstead;
A box of deal, without a lid;
A pair of tongs, but out of joint;
A back-sword poker, without point;
A pot that's crack'd across, around,
With an old knotted garter bound;
An iron lock, without a key;

A wig, with hanging, grown quite grey;
A curtain, worn to half a stripe;

A pair of bellows, without pipe;

A dish, which might good meat afford once;

This poem was written by Sheridan, who had it presented to the Bishop by a beggar, in the form of a petition, to Swift's great surprise, who was in the carriage with his Lordship at the time.-Scott.

An Ovid, and an old Concordance;
A bottle-bottom, wooden-platter,

One is for meal, and one for water;
There likewise is a copper skillet,
Which runs as fast out as you fill it;
A candlestick, snuff-dish, and save-all,
And thus his household goods you have all.
These, to your lordship, as a friend,
"Till you have built, I freely lend:
They'll serve your lordship for a shift;
Why not as well as Doctor Swift?

AN INVITATION TO DINNER,

FROM DOCTOR SHERIDAN TO DOCTOR SWIFT.

1727.

I've sent to the ladies1 this morning to warn 'em, To order their chaise, and repair to Rathfarnam; Where you shall be welcome to dine, if your dean[ship.3 Can take up with me, and my friend Stella's leanI've got you some soles, and a fresh bleeding bret,

ship

Mrs. Johnson (Stella) and her friend Mrs. Dingley.---F. 2 A village near Dublin, where Dr. Sheridan had a country house.---F.

3 Stella was at this time in a very declining state of health. She died the January following.---F.

That's just disengaged from the toils of a net:
An excellent loin of fat veal to be roasted,
With lemons, and butter, and sippets well toasted :
Some larks that descended, mistaking the skies,
Which Stella brought down by the light of her eyes;
And there, like Narcissus, they gazed till they died,
And now they're to lie in some crumbs that are fried.
My wine will inspire you with joy and delight,
"Tis mellow, and old, and sparkling, and bright;
An emblem of one that
you love, I
Who gathers more lovers the older she grows.'
Let me be your Gay, and let Stella be Pope,
We'll wean you from sighing for England I hope;
When we are together there's nothing that is dull,
There's nothing like Durfey, or Smedley, or Tis-
dall.

suppose,

We've sworn to make out an agreeable feast, Our dinner, our wine, and our wit to your taste.

Your answer in half-an-hour, though you are at prayers; you have a pencil in your pocket.

He means Stella, who was certainly one of the most amiable women in the world.---F.