Yet they'd resign that post so high,
To be the genitive, Durfei.
B and L swore b— and w—s!
X and Z cried, p—x and z—s!
G swore, by G—d, it ne'er should be;
And W would not lose, not he,
An English letter's property
In the great name of Tom D'Urfy.
In short, the rest were all in fray,
From christ-cross to et cætera.
They, tho' but standers by, too mutter'd;
Diphthongs and triphthongs swore and flutter'd:
| That none had so much right to be |  |
|
| Part of the name of stuttering T — |  |
|
| T--Tom--a--as — De---D'Ur--fy-fy. |  |
Then Jove thus spake: "With care and pain
We form'd this name, renown'd in rhyme:
Not thine, immortal Neufgermain[1]!
Cost studious cabalists more time.
| Yet now, as then, you all declare, | |
|
| Far hence to Egypt you'll repair, | |
|
| And turn strange hi'roglyphicks there, | |
Rather than letters longer be,
Unless i' th' name of Tom D'Urfy.
"Were you all pleas'd, yet what, I pray,
To foreign letters could I say?
What if the Hebrew next should aim
To turn quite backward D'Urfy's name?
Should the Greek quarrel too, by Styx, I
Could never bring in Psi and Xi;
