Page:The Dunciad - Alexander Pope (1743).djvu/123

92 Earless on high, stood unabash'd De Foe, And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge below. There Ridpath, Roper, cudgell'd might ye view, The very worsted still look'd black and blue. Himself among the story'd chiefs he spies, As from the blanket high in air he flies, And oh! (he cry'd) what street, what lane but knows, Our purgings, pumpings, blankettings, and blows?