Imatges de pàgina
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Dear companions, hug and kiss, Toaft old glorious in your piss. Tie'em, keeper, in a tether; Let 'em ftarve and stink together; Both are apt to be unruly, Lafh 'em daily, lash 'em duly ; Though 'tis hopeless to reclaim them, Scorpion rods perhaps may tame them.

Keeper, yon old dotard fmoak,
Sweetly fnoring in his cloak.

Who is he? 'Tis humdrum W- -ne
Half encompafs'd by his kin:

There observe the tribe of B-b—m,
For he never fails to bring 'em;
While he fleeps the whole debate,
They fubmiffive round him wait;
Yet would gladly fee the hunks
In his grave, and fearch his trunks.
See, they gently twitch his coat,
Juft to yawn and give his vote,
Always firm in his vocation,
For the C, against the N————
Thofe are A-s Jack and Bob,
First in every wicked job,
Son and brother to a queer
Brain-fick brute, they call a peer.

We must give them better quarter,
For their anceftor trod mortar,
And at H-th to boaft his fame,
On a chimney cut his name.

There fit C--nts, D--ks, and H--n, How they fwagger from their garrifon! Such a triplet could you tell

Where to find on this fide hell?
H―n, and D-ks, and C—nts,
Keeper, fee they have their payments,
Every mischief's in their hearts;
If they fail, 'tis want of parts.

Blefs us, M-n! art thou there man?
Bless mine eyes! art thou the chairman?
Chairman to your damn'd committee?
Yet I look on thee with pity.
Dreadful fight! what! learned M--
Metamorphos'd to a Gorgon!
For thy horrid looks, I own,
Half convert me to a ftone:
Haft thou been so long at school
Now to turn a factious tool?
Alma mater was thy mother,
Ev'ry young divine thy brother.
Thou, a difobedient varlet,
Treat thy mother like a harlot ?

Thou

Thou ungrateful to thy teachers,
Who are all grown rev'rend preachers!
M—, would it not furprize one?
Turn thy nourishment to poison!
When you walk among your books,
They reproach you with their looks;
Bind them faft, or from their fhelves
They will come, and right themselves :
Homer, Plutarch, Virgil, Flaccus,
All in arms prepare to back us :
Soon repent, or put to flaughter
Every Greek and Roman author.
Will you in your faction's phrafe
Send the clergy all to graze;
And, to make your project pafs,
Leave them not a blade of grafs?

How I want thee, hum'rous Hogarth!
Thou, I hear, a pleasant rogue art;
Were but you and I acquainted,
Ev'ry monfter fhould be painted:"
You should try your graving tools
On this odious group of fools;
Draw the beafts as I defcribe them
From their features, while I gibe them;
Draw them like, for I affure ye,

You will need no car'catura;

Draw

Draw them fo, that we may trace
All the foul in ev'ry face.

Keeper, I must now retire,
You have done what I defire:
But I feel my fpirits spent

With the noife, the fight, the fcent.
Pray be patient, you shall find
Half the beft are fill behind:
You have hardly feen a fcore,
I can fhew two hundred more.
Keeper, I have feen enough.
Taking then a pinch of fnuff,
I concluded, looking round 'em,
May their God, the d―l, confound'em.

* AN

APOLOGY,

LADY wife as well as fair,

A whole comidience

etc.

Whose conscience alwayswas her care, Thoughtful upon a point of moment, Would have the text as well as comment: So hearing of a grave divine,

She fent to bid him come and dine.

But

But you muft know he was not quite
So grave as to be unpolite;

Thought human learning would not leffen
The dignity of his profession;

And, if you'd heard the man discourse,
Or preach, you'd like him scarce the worse.
He long had bid the court farewel,
Retreating filent to his cell;
Sufpected for the love he bore

To one who fway'd fome time before;
Which made it more furprising how
He fhould be fent for thither now.

The meflage told, he gapes, and ftares, And scarce believes his eyes or ears. Could not conceive what it fhould mean, And fain would hear it told again. But then the 'fquire fo trim and nice, "Twere rude to make him tell it twice; So bow'd, was thankful for the honour: And would not fail to wait upon her. His beaver brufh'd, his fhoes and gown, Away he trudges into town; Paffes the lower caftle yard, And now advancing to the guard, He trembles at the thoughts of state; For, conscious of his fheepish gait,

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