whenever he is preferr'd to be a Curate again, that I make my Patron
smile more at my Entertainment of him at his own Cost, than ever he did
at his quoting my _dull Consideration_, which no body but the _dull
Absolver_ could imagine a Man with any Brains could write. And to prove
I have yet a few, I will try to Paraphrase upon his Farewel to me, the
Translation in Verse, but the Reader shall have his first.

I like an Author that Reforms the Age,
And keeps the right Decorum of the Stage;
That always pleases by Just Reason's Rule;
But for a tedious Droll, a quibbling Fool,
Who with low nauseous Bawdry fills his Plays,
Let him be gone, and on two Tressels raise
Some _Smithfield_ Stage, where he may act his Pranks,
And make _Jack Puddings_ speak to Mountebanks.

[Footnote: Collier,]

Your humble Servant good Doctor--Well, now for me.

I like a Parson, that no Souls does Lurch,
And keeps the true Decorum of the Church;
That always preaches by Just Reason's Rule;
But for a Hypocrite, a Canting Fool,
Who, cramm'd with Malice, takes the Rebels side,
_And would, for Conscience, palm on us his Pride,_
Let him, for Stipend, to the _Gubbins*_ sail,
And there Hold-forth for Crusts and Juggs of Ale.

[*: A Savage kind of People in the West of _England_.]