Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/277

Rh The victor, when your steps he trac'd, Found all the realms before him waste: You, o'er the high triumphal arch Pontifick, made your glorious march; The wondrous arch behind you fell, And left a chasm profound as Hell: You, in your capitol secur'd, A siege as long as Troy endur'd.

, if ever I saw such another man since my mother bound my head! You a gentleman! marry come up! I wonder where you were bred. I'm sure such words do not become a man of your cloth; I would not give such language to a dog, faith and troth. Yes, you call'd my master a knave: fie, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis a shame For a parson, who should know better things, to come out with such a name. Knave in your teeth, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis both a shame and a sin; And the dean my master is an honester man than you and all your kin: He has more goodness in his little finger than you have in your whole body: My master is a parsonable man, and not a spindle-shank'd hoddy doddy. And