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A Conclusion drawn from the above Epigrams and sent to the Drapier.
SINCE Anna, whose bounty thy merits had fed,
Ere her own was laid low, had exalted thy head;
And since our good queen to the wise is so just,
To raise heads for such as are humbled in dust,
I wonder, good man, that you are not envaulted;
Prithee go, and be dead, and be doubly exalted.
Dr. Swift's Answer.
HER majesty never shall be my exalter;
And yet she would raise me, I know, by a halter!
TO THE REVEREND DR. SWIFT.
WITH A PRESENT OF A PAPER BOOK FINELY BOUND, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, NOV. 30, 1732[1].
TO thee, dear Swift, these spotless leaves I send;
Small is the present, but sincere the friend.
Think not so poor a book below thy care;
Who knows the price that thou canst make it bear?
Though tawdry now, and, like Tyrilla's face,
The specious front shines out with borrow'd grace;
