To fair Lady Betty Dan sat for his picture,
And defied her to draw him so oft as he piqued her,
He knew she’d no pencil or colouring by her,
And therefore he thought he might safely defy her. 
Come sit, says my lady; then whips up her scissar,
And cuts out his coxcomb in silk in a trice, sir. 
Dan sat with attention, and saw with surprise
How she lengthen’d his chin, how she hollow’d his eyes;
But flatter’d himself with a secret conceit,
That his thin lantern jaws all her art would defeat. 
Lady Betty observed it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grin: 
And, to make roasted silk to resemble his raw-bone,
She raised up a thread to the jet of his jaw-bone;
Till at length in exactest proportion he rose,
From the crown of his head to the arch of his nose;
And if Lady Betty had drawn him with wig and all,
’Tis certain the copy had outdone the original. 
  Well, that’s but my outside, says Dan, with a vapour;
Say you so? says my lady; I’ve lined it with paper.

PATR.  DELANY sculpsit.

[Footnote 1:  See vol. i, p. 96.  Dan Jackson’s nose seems to have been a favourite subject for raillery, as in this and some following pieces.—­W.  E. B.]

ON THE SAME PICTURE

Clarissa draws her scissars from the case
To draw the lines of poor Dan Jackson’s face;
One sloping cut made forehead, nose, and chin,
A nick produced a mouth, and made him grin,
Such as in tailor’s measure you have seen. 
But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
For which gray worsted stocking paint supplies. 
Th’ unravell’d thread through needle’s eye convey’d,
Transferr’d itself into his pasteboard head. 
How came the scissars to be thus outdone? 
The needle had an eye, and they had none. 
O wondrous force of art! now look at Dan—­
You’ll swear the pasteboard was the better man. 
“The devil!” says he, “the head is not so full!”
Indeed it is—­behold the paper skull.

THO.  SHERIDAN sculp.

ON THE SAME

If you say this was made for friend Dan, you belie it,
I’ll swear he’s so like it that he was made by it.

THO.  SHERIDAN sculp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE

Dan’s evil genius in a trice
Had stripp’d him of his coin at dice. 
Chloe, observing this disgrace,
On Pam cut out his rueful face. 
By G—­, says Dan, ’tis very hard,
Cut out at dice, cut out at card!

G. ROCHFORT sculp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE

Whilst you three merry poets traffic
To give us a description graphic
Of Dan’s large nose in modern sapphic;

I spend my time in making sermons,
Or writing libels on the Germans,
Or murmuring at Whigs’ preferments.