Damn'd Lawyers and Judges, Damn'd Lords and
Damn'd Spies and Informers, Damn'd Friends and
Damn'd Lyars;
Damn'd Villains corrupted in every Station;
Damn'd Time-Serving Priefts all over the Nation
And into the Bargain I'll readily give you
Damn'd ignorant Prelates, and Counsellors privy,
Then let us no longer by Parfons be Flamm'd,
For We know by thefe Marks, the Place of the
Damn'd:
And HELL to be fure is at Paris or Rome,
How happy for Us, that it is not at Home!
*WHITSHED's Motto on his Coach.
Libertas & natale Solum.
Liberty and my native Country.
Written in the Year 1724.
IBERTAS & natale Solum;
Fine Words; I wonder where you ftole 'um. Could nothing but thy chief Reproach,
Serve for a Motto on thy Coach?
* That infamous Chief Juftice, who twice profecuted the Drapier, and diffolved the Grand Fury for not finding the Bill against
But, let me now the Words tranflate :
Natale Solum: My Estate:
My dear Eftate, how well I love it;
My Tenants, if you doubt, will prove it:
They swear I am so kind and good,
I hug them till I fqueeze their Blood.
LIBERTAS bears a large Import;
First; how to swagger in a Court;
And, fecondly, to fhew my Fury
Against an uncomplying Jury:
And, Thirdly; 'tis a new Invention
To favour Wood and keep my Penfion:
And, Fourthly; 'tis to play an odd Trick,
Get the Great Seal, and turn out Brodrick,
And, Fifthly; you know whom I mean,
To humble that vexatious Dean.
And, Sixthly; for my Soul, to barter it
For Fifty Times its Worth, to Carteret,
Now, fince your Motto thus you conftrue, I must confess you've spoken once true. Libertas & natale Solum;
You had good Reason when you ftole 'um.
D-n, in the Perfon of a Lady in the North.
Written in the Year 1730.
ESOLV'D my Gratitude to fhow,
Thrice Rev'rend D-n for all I owe;
Too long I have my 'Thanks delay'd;
Your Favours left too long unpay'd;
But now in all our Sexes Name,
My artless Muse shall fing your Fame.
INDULGENT you to Female Kind,
To all their weaker Sides are blind;
Nine more fuch Champions as the Dn
Would foon restore our antient Reign.
How well to win the Ladies Hearts,
You celebrate their Wit and Parts !
How have I felt my Spirits rais'd,
By you so oft, so highly prais'd!
Transform'd by your convincing Tongue
To witty, beautiful, and young.
I hope to quit that awkward Shame
Affected by each vulgar Dame;
To Modesty a weak Pretence;
And foon grow pert on Men of Sense;
To show my Face with scornful Air ;
Let others match it if they dare.
IMPATIENT to be out of Debt,
O, may I never once forget
The Bard, who humbly deigns to chufe
Me for the Subject of his Muse.
Behind my Back, before my Nose,
He founds my Praise in Verfe and Profe.
My Heart with Emulation burns
To make you fuitable Returns ;
My Gratitude the World shall know :
And, fee, the Printer's Boy below:
Ye Hawkers all, your Voices lift;
A Panegyrick on D-n S.
And then, to mend the Matter ftill;
By Lady Anne of * Market-Hill.
* A Village near Sir A- A's House, where the Author paffed two Summers.
I THUS begin. My grateful Muse
Salutes the D-n in diff'rent Views;
D---n, Butler, Usher, Jester, Tutor;
* Robert and Darby's Coadjutor:
And, as you in Commiffion fit,
To rule the Dairy next to † Kit.
In each Capacity I mean
To fing your Praise. And, first as D---1
--ni
Envy muft own, you understand your
Precedence, and fupport your Grandeur:
Nor, of your Rank will bate an Ace,
Except to give D---n D — / place.'
In you fuch Dignity appears;
So fuited to your State, and Years!
With Ladies what a ftrict Decorum!
With what Devotion you adore 'um!
Treat me with fo much Complaisance,
As fits a Princess in Romance,
By your Example and Affiftance,
The Fellows learn to know their Distance.
Sir Ar, fince you fet the Pattern,
No longer calls me Snipe and Slattern ;
Nor dares he, though he were a Duke,
Offend me with the leaft Rebuke.
The Names of two Overseers.
My Lady's Footman,
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