Thomas Cooke

Anonymous, "Epigram" Grub-Street Journal (9 December 1731).

Says W[elsted] to C[ook]e, o'er a glass of good ale,
(The liquor they drank, when they want to regale,)
How long have we batter'd our brains with the hope
To raise our own fame, and to pull down the POPE?
Yet he, as the Roman the Church of Rome guides,
Still Chief o'er the band of the Muses presides:
In vain to the world our *Epistles we send,
For the more we condemn, the more they commend.

True, says the Translator of H[esiod]. What then,
With a hickup, says t' other, shan't I print agen?
Says Cooke, who, 'tis said, has most wit of the two,
Dear Brother, I this wou'd advise you to do;
Since in vain you've attack'd with satirical lays,
I'd have you resolve to assault him with praise.
With a hickup again, and a horrid grim look,
Friend, none of your jokes, says W[elsted] to C[oo]ke.

* Written by W[elste]d and C[oo]ke, and published by M[oo]re.