Assist me, my Muse, whilst I labor to limn him.
Credite, Pisones, isti tabulae persimilem.

You look and you write with so diff'rent a grace,
That I envy your verse, though, Lord, not your face;
And to him that thinks rightly, there's reason enough,
'Cause one is as smooth as the other is rough.
But much I'm amazed you should think my design
Was to rhyme down your nose or your Harlequin grin,
Which you yourself wonder the de'il should malign.
And if 'tis so strange that your Monstership's crany
Should be envied by him, much less by Delany.
Though I own to you, when I consider it stricter,
I envy the painter although not the picture;
And greatly she's envied, since a fiend of hell
Was never drawn well, but by her and by Raphael.

Next as to the charge, which you tell us is true,
That we were inspired by the subject we drew:
Inspired we were, and well, Sir, you knew it,
Yet not by your nose, but the fair one that drew it.
Had your nose been the Muse, we had ne'er been inspired,
Though perhaps it might justly be said, we were fired.

As to the division of words in your staves,
Like my countryman's horn-comb into three halves,
I meddle not with it, but presume to make merry;
You called Dan one half, and t' other half Sherry:
Now if Dan's a half, as you call't o'er and o'er,
Then it can't be denied that Sherry's two more.
For pray give me leave to say, Sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at least of double the value.
But perhaps, Sir, you do it to fill up the verse,
So crowds in a consort (like actors in farce)
Play five parts in one, when scrapers are scarce.

But be that as it will, you'll know more anon, Sir,
When Sheridan sends to merry Dan an answer.