Nor to their Catholic Consent oppose
My erring Judgment, and reforming Nose.
Ah! ah! there she has nick't her, that's up to the Hilts, I'gad, and you shall see Dapple resents it.
Why, what a Devil shan't I trust my Eyes?
Must I drink Stum because the Rascal lyes?
And palms upon us Catholic Consent,
To give sophisticated Brewings vent.
Pag. 5.Says White, What ancient Evidence can sway,
If you must Argue thus and not obey?
Drawers must be trusted, through whose hands convey'd,
You take the Liquor, or you spoil, the Trade.
For sure those Honest Fellows have no knack
Of putting off stum'd Claret for Pontack.
How long, alas! would the poor Vintner last,
If all that drink must judge, and every Guest
Be allowed to have an understanding Tast?
Thus she: Nor could the Panther well inlarge,
With weak defence, against so strong a Charge.
There I call her a Panther, because she's spotted, which is such a Blot to the Reformation, as I warrant 'em they will never claw off, I'gad.
But with a weary Yawn that shew'd her Pride,
Said, Spotless was a Villain, and she lyed.
White saw her canker'd Malice at that Word,
And said her Prayers, and drew her Delphic Sword.
T'other cry'd Murther, and her Rage restrain'd:
And thus her passive Character maintain'd.
But now alas!———
is
