« PreviousContinue »
Sir, quoth the Man, I mean 110 Harm,
I only do't my Hands to warm,
In this cold Frosty Season.
The Satyr gave him from the Pot
A Mess of Porridge piping hot ;
The Man blow'd o'er his Gruel.
What's that for, Friend? The Satyr cry'd,
To cool my Broth, his Guest reply'd,
And Truth, Sir, is a Jewel.
How, quoth the Host, then-is it so,
And can you Contradictions blow?
Turn out, and leave my Corrage.
This honeft Mansion ne'er shall hold
Such Rascals as blow Hot and Cold,
The De'l must find you Potrage.
The C 's desir'd, that in their next Choice,
They'd be pleas'd from this Fable to take good advice;
For a Man that two Churches at once has in View,
Shams both in their Turns, and to neither is true.
A Dialogue betwixt the New Lotteries and
the Royal Oak.
you, the Mother of our Schools,
Where Knaves, by License; manage Fools,
Finding fit Juncture and Occasion
To pick the Pockets of the Nation,
We come to know how we must treat 'em,
And to their Hearts Content may cheat 'em.
It chears my aged Heart to see
So num'rous a Progeny;
I find by you, that 'tis Heaven's Will,
That Knavery shou'd flourish still;
You have Docility and wit,
And Fools were never wanting yet.
Observe the crafty Auctioneer,
His Art to sell Waste-Paper dear :
When he for Salmon baits his Hooks,
That Cormorant of Offal-Books,
Who bites, as sure as Maggots breed,
Or Carrion-Crows on Horse-fesh feed.
Fair fpecious Ticles him deceive,
To sweep what sl - and In leave.
If greedy Gulls you wou'd enfnare,
Make 'em Proposals wondrous fair.
Tell 'em strange Golden Show'rs shall fall,
And promise Mountains to 'em all,
That Craft we've been already taught,
And by that Trick have Millions caught.
Books, Bawbles, Toys, all sorts of Stuff,
Have gone off this Way well enough.
Nay Musick too invades our Art,
And to fome Tune wou'd play her Part.
I'll shew you now what we are doing,
For we have divers Wheels a going.
We have found out richer Lands,
Than Alia Hills, or Africk's Sands,
And to vaft Treasures must give Birth,
Deep hid in Bowels of th' Earth;
In fertile Wales, and God knows where,
Rich Mines of Gold and silver are,
From whence we drain prodigious Store
Of Silver Coin'd, thonone in Ore,
Which down our Throats rich Coxcombs pourg
In hopes to make us vomit more.
This Project surely must be good,
Because not eas'ly understood :
Besides, it gives a mighty Scope
To the Fool's Argument,. Vain Hope.
No Eagle's Eye the Cheat can see,
Thro' Hope thus back'd by Mystery.
We have, besides a Thousand more,
For Great and Small, for Rich and Poor,
From him that can his Thousands spare,
Down to the Penny-Customer.
The filly Mob in Crowds will run,
To be at easy Rates undone ;
A Gimcrack-Show drawsin the Rout,
Thousands their All, by Pence, lay ouit.
We, by Experience, find it true;
But we have Methods wholly New;
Strange late invented Ways to thrive,
To make Men pay for what they give;
To get che Rents into our Hands
of their Hereditary Lands,
And out of what doth thence arise,
To make 'em buy Annuities.
We've Mathematick Combination,
To cheat Fools by plain Demonftration,
Which shall be fairly manag'd too,
The Undertakers know not how.
Pray, hold a little, here's enough,
To beggar Europe of this Stuff.
Go on, and prosper, and be Great,
I am to your a puny Cheat.
In Obitum Tho. Shadwell, pinguis memoriæ.
Onditur hoc tumulo Bavius, gravis effe memento
Terra tuo Bavio, nam fuit ille tibi.
Tam citò miraris Bavii fætere cadaver?
Non erat in toto corpore mica salis.
Mors uni Bavio lucrum ; nam jugera Vates
Qui vivens habuit nulla, sepreltnes habet.
Porrigitur novus hic Tityus per jugera septem,
que tondebit viscera deerit Avis.
Dicite, (nam benë vos nóftis) gens Critica, Vates
An fuerit Bavius pejor, an Historicus.
Militiam ficco Wilhelmus Marte peregit,
O Clemens Cefar! confulis hiftorico.
Tom writ, his Readers still sept o'er his Book ;
For Tom took Opium, and they Opiates took.
An Impromptu to Shadwell's Memory, by Dr.B-A
ND must our glorious Laureat then depart!
Heav'n, if it please, may take his loyal Heart; As for the rest, sweet Devil, fetch a Cart.
In Decretuin Parliamenti 1689.
De non adulterandis Vinis.
Aimen adulterii wetuerunt Biblia frustrå.
Jam quid ages, Caupo ? Parliamenta vetant.
Inscriptions design’d for the Dial over the
Fountain in the new Square at Lincoln's-Inn.
T referat gratam mercedem quælibet hora,
Munificum laudet quælibet hora Deum.
Unde fluit lapsu, quid fas ignave, perenni,
Carpe viator iter, fic tibi vita fluit.
Hec Legim domus est, colit hanc Themis aurea sedem,
Hospite nec Domus eft dignior ulla Dea..
Antenor's Speech in the second Æneid, apply'd
to the Declaration for Liberty of Conscience.
In the Year 1687.
Timeo Dandos, Es dona ferentes.
OU dull Diflenters, what vain Folly blinds
Think you this proffer'd Liberty is free
From Tricks, and Snares, and papal Treachery?
Think you 'twas meant according to the Letter?
Oh! thar fuch plodding Heads thou'd know the Pope no
Trust me, this Kindness either was design'd [better.
T'infame our Quarrels, and our Weakness find :
Or.else the Breach was open’d at a Venture,
That at one Hole botlı Cowl and Cloak might enter.
Pray, Heav'n, there be na farther Mischief meant,
But I'm afraid there's Roman Opium in't,
Be't what it will, the gilded Pill suspect,
And with a smiling Scorn your proffer'd Fate rejet ;
A Papist, tho' ungiving, means you Evil,
But when he scatters Gifts and Mercies, he's the Devil.