Both high men and low men, and thick men and tall men, And rich men and poor men, and free men and thrall men. Will suffer; and this man, and that man, and all men. Which, &c. The soldier is ruin'd, poor man! by his pay; Which, &c. When he pulls out his twopence, the tapster says not, That ten times as much he must pay for his shot; And thus the poor soldier must soon go to pot. Which, &c. If he goes to the baker, the baker will huff, Which, &c. Again, to the market, whenever he goes, Which, &c. The butcher is stout, and he values no swagger stagger. Which, &c. The beggars themselves will be broke in a trice, When thus their poor farthings are sunk in their price; When nothing is left they must live on their lice. Which, &c. The squire who has got him twelve thousand a year, O Lord! What a mountain his rents would appear! Should he take them, he would not have house-room I fear. Which, &c. Though at present he lives in a very large house, There would then not be room in it left for a mouse; But the squire is too wise, he will not take a souse. Which, &c. The farmer, who comes with his rent in this cash, trash. Which, &c. For, in all the leases that ever we hold, Which, &c. The wisest of lawyers all swear, they will warrant on't. Which, &c. And, I think, after all, it would be very strange, But read the king's patent, and there you will find, That no man need take them but who has a mind, For which we must say that his Majesty's kind. Which, &c. Now God bless the Drapier who open'd our eyes! Which, &c. Nay, farther he shows it a very hard case, That he and his halfpence should come to weigh down Our subjects so loyal and true to the crown: Which, &c. This book, I do tell you, is writ for your goods, Ye shopmen, and tradesmen, and farmers, go read it, For I think in my soul at this time that you need it; Or egad, if you don't, there's an end of your credit. Which nobody can deny. VOL. X. 2 H A SERIOUS POEM UPON WILLIAM WOOD, BRASIER, TINKER, HARDWAREMAN, COINER, FOUNDER, AND ESQUIRE. [The two passages within crotchets, which do not occur in for. mer editions of the Dean's works, are added from the original broadside copy.] WHEN foes are o'ercome we preserve them from slaughter To be hewers of wood, and drawers of water. That old rotten wood will shine in the dark. The Heathens, we read, had gods made of wood, Who could do them no harm, if they did them no good; But this idol Wood may do us great evil, Their gods were of wood; but our Wood is the Devil. To cut down fine wood, is a very bad thing; store, Our money to keep, let us cut down one more. Now hear an old tale. There anciently stood (I forget in what church) an image of wood; Concerning this image, there went a prediction, It would burn a whole forest; nor was it a fiction. 'Twas cut into faggots and put to the flame, To burn an old friar, one Forest by name, My tale is a wise one, if well understood: Find you but the Friar; and I'll find the Wood. I hear, among scholars there is a great doubt, From what kind of tree this Wood was hewn out. Teague made a good pun by a brogue in his speech: And said, "By my shoul, he's the son of a BEECH." Some call him a thorn, the curse of the nation, As thorns were designed to be from the creation. Some think him cut out from the poisonous yew, Beneath whose ill shade no plant ever grew. Some say he's a birch, a thought very odd; For none but a dunce would come under his rod. But I'll tell the secret; and pray do not blab: He is an old stump, cut out of a crab; And England has put this crab to a hard use, To cudgel our bones, and for drink give us verjuice; And therefore his witnesses justly may boast, That none are more properly knights of the post. [But here Mr Wood complains that we mock, Though he may be a blockhead, he's no real block. He can eat, drink, and sleep; now and then for a friend He'll not be too proud an old kettle to mend; To turn a good penny to twenty bad halfpence. Forge his own bad halfpence. |