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War (to.whose Court all leffer Evils join)
Eirst help'd to circumcise our current Coin.
"I was a fine Harvest, when the Clipping Race,
To tbe conniving Government's Disgrace,
Cut short bis Majesty within the Ring,
And dock'd his Horfes Tail (God bless the King:)
Then Goldsmiths, Scriv'ners, and the bulky Tribe
of mony'd Knaves, too numerous to describe,
Batten'd apace on this unrighteous Trade,
And at the Realm's Expence large Fortunes made:
While the poor half-starv'd Slaves that for them wrought,
Within the fatal Toil were daily caught. :
And to relieve them in their Tyburn Qualm,
Troop'd off to the dull Musick of a Pfalm.
The Charge of War out-ballanc'd soon our Trade;
As this advanc'd, that palpaily decay'd.
And as 'twas ten Years War that ruin'd Troy,
So ten Years War diu England's Wealth destroy.
War ! fatal War! the Murderer of Trade,
Occasion'd heavy Taxes for its Aid ;
It set Mercurial Heads at work t'invent
Most easy Ways to serve the Government :
NEALE started first, to raise a speedy Sum, do
. MILLION-LOTTERY, let who will come,
No Lofs can happen, but most certain Gain;
Sell Lands and Houses, ne'er was such a Mair.
This was a general and inviting Bait,
And did so luckily relieve the State,
That the Groom Porter liad Encouragement,
New specious Schemes and Projects to invent.
Next, the old Maids and Batch'lers were cajollid,
Fourteen per Cert. for Life, and well eurolld:
They drew their Cash from Commerce and from Trade,
And lavishiy adventur’d on this Aid;
Long may they live, and still, (as now) be paid.
At the Heels of this, Survivorship came in,
('Tis hard to stop, tho' easy có begin)
From Six per Cent, t' increase as Children die :
So proinifing a Fund who wou'd not try?
Thus eager Parents paid their Money down,
To make their Children Vassals to the Crown,
And with much Ceremony beg their own.
At left, resolv'd new Methods still t explore,
As if we ne'erecou'd drain the Nation's Store,
The Bank peept up, and all before ic-bore ;
As Rivers dutifully glide to pay
Their liquid Trilute to their Parent Ser.
Nor is it strange :' Av'rice is always wise,
And Profit, fay the Learned, never lies.
Int'rest at Twelve per- Cent; fór Stock advanc'd;
Stock to One hundred thirty Pounds enhanc'a;
So be that had a Thousand Pounds in there,
For Thirteen Hundred strait cou'd féll his Share ;
Prodigious Gain! Such Principal, such Use
T%' Excheguer pays ; what must the Exchegirer lose?
But say, my Muse, what Harm was it to Trade,
If the Exchequer Cent, per Cent. had paid,
When the Realm's Wants require a present Aid ?
It made the Nation's Debt call for Supplies,
By doubting both the Cuftoms and Excise ;
It fram'd the Capitation by Degrees,
Births, Burials, Batchelours, Lights, Lawyers-Fees
Stock, Money, Titles, empty Houses pay,
Althoʻthe Tenants often run away.
All these, and many more Invencions join'da
To pamper War, while sickly Trade declin'd:
Stock-jobbers on the Nation's Back,
Whose Weight compleated poor Britannia's Wreck,
These Vermin being hatch'd, the num’rous Brood
Increas'd, and fattend on the Trades-Man's Blood;
If Tallies were deliver'd on some Aid, !.
Stock jobber fix'd whar Money shou'd be paid.)
The Legislators gave Encouragemene
For Men to work, and trust the Government;
But tho' a general Good they thus design'd,
Those rav'nous Harpies of th’ Exchange combin'd
To frustrate all; deaf to the Nation's Cries,
They its Left Laws turn'd into Merchandize ; Wouline
So that poor Tradesmen, for a Hundred Pound,
For Fifty with these Rascals must compound,
Or else to Goal; their Wants call for Supply,
And ready Cash at any Rate they'll buy:
Thus all those Millions given for Supplies,
Those Caterpillars still monopolize ;
And if we find not out some speedy Way
To kill these Worms that on our Vitals prey,
Commerce, the Nation's Glory, foon will fail,
And half our Traders perish in a Jayl.
i Oh ! who can bear to see so many Hands
Lie idle, like uncultivated Lands;
Devour'd by Want, only to gratify
Senseless Revenge and brutish Cruelty ?
Rome, whose imperial Sway the World obey'd,
Juftice the Rule of all her Actions made ;
And tho'moft Nations dreaded her Alarms,
Was no less Famous for her Laws than Arms,
Among the rest, this juftly claims a Place,
And let not England think it a Disgrace,
The glorious Empress of the World to trace.
The Debtor had one Part, che Lender two;
Revenge had nothing; Nothing was her Due.
Credit with us the whole Estate doch feize,
And on the wretched Debtor's Body preys;
Heav'n's brightest Gift, Compassion's out of Door ;
And he's a graceless Reprobate that's poor.
In France this Law does still maintain a Sway,
If Tradesmen prove incapable to pay,
Six Persons, of known Truth and Probity,
Make Inqueft what their whole Estate may be:
When this is duly done, two Parts of three
They to the creditors allotted fee :
And then one Third to Debtor is convey'd,
That he may have some Stock again to trade.
How worthy Praise are such good Acts as these?
Considering, too, there's not a Penny Fees.
Why should we then our English Laws advance,
And scornfully expose the Laws of France?
Since Subjects Fellow-Subjects can destroy,.
And rob us of our boasted Liberty.
In Holland, if a Creditor thinks fit
His Debior to a Prison to commit,
At his own Charge he must maintain him there,
Not let him 1'arve, as Creditors do here.
A Prison! Heav'ns, I loath the hated Name,
Famine's Metropolis, the Sink of Shame,
A nauseous Sepulchre, whose craving Womb
Hourly interrs poor Mortals in its Tomb;
By ev'ry Plague and ev'ry Ill posseft,
Ev'n Purgatory it self to thee's a Jest ;
Emblem of Hell, Nursery of Vice,
Thot crawling University of Lice :
Where Wretches numberless to ease their Pains,
With Smoak and Ale delude their pensive Chains.
How shall I thee avoid ? Or, with what Spell
Diffolve th' Enchantment of thy Magic Cell ?
Ev'n Fox himfelf can't boast so many Martyrs,
As yearly fall within thy wretched Quarters.
none, and Debts I cannot pay, Unless my
Vermin will those Debts defray. Not scolding Wife, nor Inquisition's worse; Thou’rt ev'ry Mischief cramm'd into one Curse. May we at last the Senate's Mercy find, And breathe (whac Heav'n bestows on all Mankind ; What needy Clowns as well as Monarchs share) The common Benefit of wholesome Air: Then to your Clemency we'll Altars raise, And with united Voice our Benefactors praise.
To my Friend Mr. Playford, on the Publication
of his second Book of Pills.
Riend' Harry, to prove that your Phoughts were absurd,
For fuppofing I could not be true to iny Word,
According to the Promise which I made long ago,
At last I have fqueez'd out a Couplet or two
In the Praise of your Fills; and tho' my Verse late is,
Yet believe it's the first chat I ever fent Gratis.
By my Soul, I've been us’d so to Bolus and Potion,
That I'm ready to fivoon at a Physical Nocion;
And if you wou'd lend me (that's give) a Jacobus :
I'm perswaded I cou'd not take Pill Ex Duobu; i
However, fince yours have no Turpentine Flavour,
Nor confine a Man close to his righteous Behaviour,
Since no bitter Ingredients give Offence to my Palate,
But they please me like Cheese which is toasted, or Sallad,
I'll quit making Faces to write Panegyrick,
Tho' I'm not half so fit for't as M.-- for Lyrick.
To begin then, pray take it as Thomas his Sentence, Your Pills will ne'er bring one to Stool of Repentance ; But will chace away Sorrow, which will hang on our
(Brows, As a pretty young Girl does a Batchelor's Vows, Who, at Sight of her Beauty, drowns the Thoughts of
(Miscarriage, And, perjur’d, immediately sets up for Marriage.
They're a Cure for a Fav'rite who had handled his Senses, And has lost our Good Word ly getting his Princes. The thoughtful Good Statesman, who sits a-la-mort, Because he's remov'd from Council and Court, At the Taste of your Med’cines Mall resign up his Grief, And bless his Retirement, and bless your
Relief. All Conditions and Sc xes, in Country and City, From thee wou'd be thought Wife, to the really Wirty, From the Lady who speaks all her Words as in Prine, And has Eyes which strike Fire like a Steel and a Flint.