[Footnote 1: "Dick Tighe and his wife lodged over against us; and he has been seen, out of our upper windows, beating her two or three times; ... I am told she is the most urging, provoking devil that ever was born; and he a hot whiffling puppy, very apt to resent."--Journal to Stella, "Prose Works," ii, 229.--_W. E. B._]
[Footnote 2: Farquhar, who inscribed his play of the "Inconstant" to Richard Tighe, has painted him in very different colours from those of the Dean's satirical pencil. Yet there may be discerned, even in that dedication, the oulines of a light mercurial character, capable of being represented as a coxcomb or fine gentleman, as should suit the purpose of the writer who was disposed to immortalize him.--_Scott_.]
_Tom_. Say, Robin, what can Traulus[2] mean By bellowing thus against the Dean? Why does he call him paltry scribbler, Papist, and Jacobite, and libeller, Yet cannot prove a single fact?
_Robin_. Forgive him, Tom: his head is crackt.
_T_. What mischief can the Dean have done him, That Traulus calls for vengeance on him? Why must he sputter, spawl, and slaver it In vain against the people's favourite? Revile that nation-saving paper, Which gave the Dean the name of Drapier?
_R_. Why, Tom, I think the case is plain; Party and spleen have turn'd his brain.
_T_. Such friendship never man profess'd, The Dean was never so caress'd; For Traulus long his rancour nursed, Till, God knows why, at last it burst. That clumsy outside of a porter, How could it thus conceal a courtier?
_R_. I own, appearances are bad; Yet still insist the man is mad.
_T_. Yet many a wretch in Bedlam knows How to distinguish friends from foes; And though perhaps among the rout He wildly flings his filth about, He still has gratitude and sap'ence, To spare the folks that give him ha'pence; Nor in their eyes at random pisses, But turns aside, like mad Ulysses; While Traulus all his ordure scatters To foul the man he chiefly flatters. Whence comes these inconsistent fits?
_R_. Why, Tom, the man has lost his wits.
_T_, Agreed: and yet, when Towzer snaps At people's heels, with frothy chaps, Hangs down his head, and drops his tail, To say he's mad will not avail; The neighbours all cry, "Shoot him dead, Hang, drown, or knock him on the head." So Traulus, when he first harangued, I wonder why he was not hang'd; For of the two, without dispute, Towzer's the less offensive brute.