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Come, courtiers: every man his stick: Lord-treasurer, * for once be quick; And, that they may the closer cling, Take your blue ribbon for a string. Come, trimming Harcourt †, bring your

mace;

And squeeze it in, or quit your place: Dispatch; or else that rascal Northey ‡ Will undertake to do it for thee:

And be affur'd, the court will find him Prepar'd to leap o'er fticks, or bind 'em.

To make the bundle strong and safe, Great Ormond, lend thy gen'ral's staff: And, if the crofier could be cramm'd in, A fig for Lechmere, King, and Hambden, You'll then defy the strongest whig With both his hands to bend a twig. Though with united strength they all pull, From Somers down to Craiggs and Walpole.

Robert Harley, earl of torney General, brought in Oxford. Lord chancellor. Sir Edward Northey, At

by lord Harcourt, yet very defirous of the great seal,

The

The AUTHOR upon himself.

Written in the Year 1713.

A few of the first lines were wanting in the copy fent us by a friend of the author's.

Y an old

BY

crazy

-purfu'd

A crazy * prelate, anda royal ‡ prude; By dull divines, who look with envious eyes On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise; And paufing o'er a pipe, with doubtfulnod Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God; So, clowns on scholars as on wizards look, And take a folio for a conj'ring book §.

Swift had the fin of wit, no venial crime; Nay, 'tis affirm'd, he fometimes dealt in rhime;

• Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York.

Her late majesty Q. A. Archbishop Sharp, according to Dr. Swift's account, had reprefented him to the queen as a person that was not a Chriftian; a great lady had fupported the afper

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Humour, and mirth, had place in all he writ;

He reconcil'd divinity and wit:

He mov'd and bow'd and talk'd with too much grace;

Nor fhew'd the parfon in his gait or face; Defpis'd luxurious wines, and coftly meat; Yet ftill was at the tables of the great ; Frequented lords; faw thofe that faw the

queen;

At Child's or Truby's*never once had been ; Where town and country vicars flock in tribe,

Secur'd by numbers from the lay-mens gibes,

And deal in vices of the graver fort, Tobacco, cenfure, coffee, pride, and port.

But, after fage monitions from his

friends,

His talents to employ for nobler ends; To better judgments willing to fubmit, He turns to politicks his dang'rous wit.

And now, the public int'reft to fupport, By Harley Swift invited comes to court

A coffee-houfe and tavern near St. Paul's, at that time much frequented by the clergy.

In favour grows with ministers of state; Admitted private, when fuperiors wait: And Harley, not asham'd his choice to own, Takes him to Windfor in his coach alone. At Windsor Swift no fooner can appear, But* St. John comes and whispers in his ear: The waiters stand in ranks, the yeomen cry, Make room; as if a duke were paffing by.

Now Finch + alarms the lords: he hears for certain,

This dang'rous priest is got behind the curtain.

Finch, fam'd for tedious elocution, proves That Swift oils many a fpring which Harley moves.

Walpole and Aiflabie ‡, to clear the doubt, Inform the commons, that the fecret's out: "A certain doctor is obferv'd of late "To haunt a certain minifter of state: "From whence, with half an eye, we may discover

"The peace is made, and Perkin muft "come over."

*Then fecretary of state, afterwards lord Bolingbroke. + The late earl of Nottingham, who made a fpeech in the houfe of lords against Swift.

They both spoke against the author in the houfe of commons, although Aiflabie profeffed much friendship for

him.

York

York is from Lambeth fent, to fhew the

queen

A dangerous treatise writ against the fpleen +,

Which, by the style, the matter, and the drift,

'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift.

Poor York! the harmless tool of others hate,

He fues to pardon §, and repents too late.

Now,

her vengeance vows

On Swift's reproaches for her

From her red locks her mouth with

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And thence into the royal ear inftils. The queen incens'd, his fervices forgot, Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot. Now thro' the realm a || proclamation fpread,

To fix a price on his devoted head.

Tale of a Tub.

His grace was forry for what he had faid, and fent a meffage to the author to defire his pardon.

The proclamation was against the author of a pamphlet called, The publick Spirit of the Whigs, against which the Scots lords complained. See vol. IX.

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