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[Page 25]
The REAL SIMON in Wales,
SIMPKIN the SECOND in London
[Handwritten] World June 28. 1788
My Dear Brother Simpkin, with heartfelt concern,
From reading the World of last Monday, I learn
That some impudent Knave has the boldness to send you
Some Lines in my Name, with a view to offend you.
The work I disclaim, and 'tis my resolution,
If I find out the Rogue, to commence Prosecution.
No, Brother, your Letters must always delight us,
And we hope you will ever continue to write us,
When the Simpleton call'd you "Retailer of Scraps,"
One would think that he meant to give Sheridan Slaps:
Of Novelty careless, you only profess
To give Sheridan's Speech a Poetical Dress.
Sir Lawrence Llewellyn, return'd to his Seat,
Last night gave his Friends, the Electors , a Treat;
Sir Lawrence, you know, is a Man of high breeding,
And excessively fond of Theatrical Reading:
He said, "Sherry's Speech was an excellent Piece
Of Patch Work, with Shreds brought from Rome and from Greece;
But should Poets and Orators try him for Theft --
Like the Jackdaw of old, would a feather be left?
Sir Lawrence observ'd 'twas exceedingly odd,
To hear of an Actor becoming a God.
But he thinks this new God, should in gratitude foster
And support his Creator, -- this Simon Imposter.
Sir Lawrence consider'd the Scribbler's obtrusion
Of Sir Fretful, a very unhappy allusion.
Now I bid you farewell till the Parliament ends,
When I hope My Dear Simpkin will visit his Friends.
SIMON.
June 25th, 1788, Wales
SIMON of Monmouth, to SIMPKIN the SECOND in London
[handwritten] World July 7. 1788.
Letter the Second.
BROTHER SIMPKIN, I've just your last Letter been reading --
And this then, it seems, is your fine London Breeding !
Pure as Snow on the Mountains, Sim went up from Wales;
But quick, like the Torrents, Example prevails.
Acquaintance with Nabobs, unfeeling and rich,
Has strung up his Mem'ry to Middleton's pitch;
And they who delight to set "Son against Mother,"
Have taught the poor Boy to disclaim his own Brother.
And now I think on it, this strange affectation,
Is a Indian Contrivance of late Importation:
For I read that the Begum, who silent so long,
When injur'd by HASTINGS, scarce felt it a wrong,
Of exactions and sufferings forseeing no end,
And still finding a Foe, where she look'd for a Friend;
Her patience exhausted -- to Middleton sent
A Letter, like Simon's, warm, honest, sincere --
Like Simon's too, somewhat unpleasant to hear.
What did Middleton say? funny Rogue, he replied.
"That the Seal of the Princess was foully belied;
Some impudent Fellow, assuming her Name,
Had thought proper the Measures of Hastings to blame."
Then swore, if he caught the Imposter, he'd bang him:
Nay, perhaps get his friend, Sir Elijah, to hang him.
But Middleton's trick may be ;laid on tjhe shelf,
Foe Simkin turns Simon, and answers himself;
And, in forging a Letter to suit his own ends,
Has equall'd the happiest thoughts of his Friends.
Sir David Ap Griffith, who well knows the Towr,
And has all the best Papers and Pamphlets sent down,
Admires, Brother Sim, your satirical Rhymes,
But wonders you don't change your Subject sometimes.
For, as Rare-Shew Vagrants, when Master grows weary
With peeping at Mosques and Pagodas so airy,
Present, by a polite pull of the string,
The Park of St. James, with our great Queen and King;
So Sir David declares, you might give us much sport,
Should your Muse quit the Trial and visit the Court.
[Column 2]
You know, Sim, the Baronet will have his Joke,
And speaks of the Great as of Ord'nary Folk;
Of Councils conven'd o'er -- an Opera's news --
And of Cabinet's meeting to settle -- Reviews !
Of Statesmen and Lawyers, important and big
In fulness of Knowledge and fulness of Wig,
Disputing like Carmen when over a pot,
With "You shall have Pepper" --"By -- I will Not !"
Of mad Women, aiming great Caesar to slay,
And Men, not so mad, but Ambitious, they say,
To shed Royal Blood in a different way.
Such Scenes, if you credit Sir David's report,
Tho' found no where else, yet are common at Court;
And, Rhim'd by my Simkin, might us as merry
As the feelings of Burke, or the Action of Sherry.
But should you Dear Brother, Sir David to please,
Divert you attention to subjects like these,
Don't preface your Letter, like some I and you know,
With a Puff that 'twas written, "stams pede in uno."
And knows, that Contempt, when we really feel it,
Demands but a word, hardly that, to reveal it;
If a man's beneath notice, in peace let him go;
Don't tell him so first, and then give him a blow.
For me, Brother Simkin, tho' I would as soon
Be Disciple of Sherry, as Hastings' Buffoon,
Yet, somewhat too saucy to do dirty work
For Hastings or Impey, or Sherry, or Burke,
And, perfectly conscious how feeble my Pen,
Perhaps you may ne'er hear from Simon again. --
'Tis true, when a Scribbler, by Vanity led,
Or by some weightier motive than lightness of head,
Attempts at the high Throne of Justice a sneer;
To turn into Farce all that Virtue holds dear;
To vote the best Feelings of Men out of fashion,
And with laughter deride the bright tear of Compassion;
Then, Brother, if mine were Sheridan's Muse,
And Talents far greater than all you abuse,
With Genius disdaining each frivolous art
And expression full fraught with the warmth of the heart,
I'd give such Presumption the punishment due,
And, heedless of danger, attack -- even You.
SIMON.