In either Cafe, an equal Chance is run:

For, keep; or turn him out, my Lord's undone;
You want a Hand to clear a filthy Sink;
No cleanly Workman can endure the Stink:
A strong Dilemma in a defp'rate Case!
To act with Infamy, or quit the Place.

A BUNGLER thus, who fcarce the Nail can hit, With driving wrong, will make the Pannel split: Nor, dares an abler Workman undertake

To drive à fecond, left the whole should break.

IN ev'ry Court the Parallel will hold;

And Kings, like private Folks, are bought and fold:
The ruling Rogue, who dreads to be cashier'd;
Contrives, as he is bated, to be fear'd:
Confounds Accounts, perplexes all Affairs;
For, Vengeance more embroils, than Skill repairs.
So, Robbers (and their Ends are just the same)
To 'scape Enquiries, leave the Houfe in Flame.

I KNEW a brazen Minister of State, Who bore for twice ten Years the publick Hate: In every Mouth the Queftion moft in Vogue Was; When will THEY turn out this odious Rogue?

A Junc

A Juncture happen'd in his highest Pride:

While HE went robbing on; old Mafter dy'd,
We thought, there now remain'd no room to doubt
His Work is done, the Minifter muft out.
The Court invited more than One, or Two;

Will you, Sir Sp-r? or, will you, or you?
But, not a Soul his Office durft accept:
The fubtle Knave had all the Plunder swept.
And, fuch was then the Temper of the Times,
He ow'd his Prefervation to his Crimes.
The Candidates obferv'd his dirty Paws,

Nor found it difficult to guefs the Cause:

But when they smelt fuch foul Corruptions round him;

Away they fled, and left him as they found him.

THUS, when a greedy Sloven once has thrown His Snot into the Mefs; 'tis all his own.

We found the following Poem printed in Fog's Fourual of the 17th of Sept. 1733. It was written in the laft Seffion, and many Copies were taken, but never printed here. The Subject of it is now over; but our Author's known Zeal against that Project made him generally fuppofed to be the Author. We reprint it just as it lyes in Fog's Four

nel.

The following Poem is the Product of Ireland; it was occafioned by the B-s of that Kingdom endeavouring to get an Act to divide the Church Livings, which Bill was rejected by the Irish Houfe of Commons. It is faid to be written by an honeft Curate; the Reader of Tafte perhaps, may guess who the Curate could be, that was capable of writing it,

Written in the Year 1731.

LD Latimer preaching did fairly defcribe

OLD

A B who rul'd all the reft of his

Tribe

And who is this B? And where does he

dwell?

Why truly 'tis Saten, Arch-b

of Hell:

And HE was a Primate, and HE wore a Mitre Surrounded with Jewels of Sulphur and Nitre.

How

How nearly this B

our B.

refembles!

But his has the Odds, who believes and who trem

bles.

Cou'd you fee his grim Grace, for a Pound to a

Penny,

You'd fwear it must be the Baboon of K

༡་

Poor Satan will think the Comparison odious;

I wish I could find him out one more commodious,

'

But this I am fure, the Moft Rev'rend old Dragon,

Has got on the Bench many B——~$ suffragan ;
B-
And all Men believe he prefides there incog,

To give them by Turns an invifible Jog.

OUR Bs puft up with Wealth and with

Pride.

To Hell on the Backs of the Clergy wou'd ride They mounted, and labour'd with Whip and with Spur,

In vain

for the Devil a Parfon wou'd ftir.

So the Commons unhors'd them, and this was their

Doom,

On their Crofiers to ride, like a Witch on a

Broom,

Tho'

Tho' they gallop fo faft; on the Road you may find 'em,

And have left us but Three out of Twenty behind

'em.

Lord B's good Grace, Lord C- and Lord H

In fpight of the Devil would still be untoward. They came of good Kindred, and cou'd not endure, Their former Companions fhould beg at their Door.

WHEN CHRIST was betray'd to Pilate, the

Prætor,

In a Dozen Apostles but one prov'd a Traytor!
One Traytor alone, and faithful Eleven ;
But we can afford you Six Traytors in Seven.

WHAT a Clutter with Clippings, Dividings, and

Cleavings!

And the Clergy, forfooth, muft take up with their

Leavings.

If making Divifions was all their Intenɛ,

They've done it, we thank 'em, but not as they

meant;

And