The ducal coffers, trufted to your charge, 45 50 Next hearken, Gay, to what thy charge requires. With fervants, tenants, and the neighb'ring 'fquires. Let all domestics feel your gentle sway : Nor bribe, infult, nor flatter, nor betray, Let due reward to merit be allow'd; Nor with your kindred half the palace crowd. 55 Nor think yourself fecure in doing wrong, Be rich; but of your wealth make no parade; At least before your master's debts are paid. Nor in a palace, built with charge immenfe, Prefume to treat him at his own expence. Each farmer in the neighbourhood can count, To what your lawful perquifites amount. The tenants poor, the hardness of the times, Are ill excufes for a fervant's crimes. With int'reft, and a premium paid befide, The mafter's preffing wants must be supply'd; With hafty zeal behold the steward come By his own credit to advance the fum; 60 65 70 Who, while th' unrighteous Mammon is his friend, 75 The law fo ftri&tly guards the monarch's health, That no phyfician dares prefcribe by ftealth The council fit; approve the Doctor's fkill; And give advice before he gives the pill. 80 But But the ftate-imp'rie acts a fafer part; But how can I defcribe the rav'nous breed? Suppofe your Lord a trufty fervant fend 85 Should fome imperious neighbour fink the boats, Nor from your Lord his bad condition hide. 91 95 100 Have Peter Waters always in your mind; That rogue of genuine ministerial kind Can half the peerage by his arts bewitch; Starve twenty lords to make one scoundrel rich; And when he gravely has undone a score, Is humbly pray'd to ruin twenty more †. 105 A dextrous steward, when his tricks are found, Hufh-money fends to all the neighbours round; Thefe lines are thought to allude to fome story concerning a great quantity of mahogony declared rotten, and then applied by fomebody to wainscot, ftairs, door cafes, &c. He had practifed this trade for many years with fuccefs. His mafter, unfufpicious of his pranks, Some, when an heir fucceeds, go bold'y on, In finding ways and means, and stopping gaps; 115 120 125 For keep, or turn him out, my Lord's undone. You want a hand to clear a filthy fink; No cleanly workman can endure the ftink, A ftrong dilemma in a dep'rate cafe! To act with infamy, or quit the place, 130 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 a fecond, left the whole fhould break. 135 In every 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 hated, to be fear'd; Confounds accounts, perplexes all affairs; For vengeance more embroils, than fkill repairs. 140 So robbers, (and their ends are just the fame), To 'fcape inquiries, leave the house in flame. 145 150 I knew a brazen minister of state, Who bore for twice ten years the public hate. In ev'ry mouth the question moft in vogue Was, When will they turn out this odious rogue? A juncture happen'd in his highest pride : While he went robbing on, old master dy'd. We thought there now remain'd no room to doubt; His work is done, the minister must out. The court invited more than one or two; Will you, Sir Spencer? or, Will you, or you? But not a foul his office durft accept ; The fubtle knave had all the plunder fwept; And fuch was then the temper of the times, He ow'd his preservation to his crimes. The candidates obferv'd his dirty paws, Nor found it difficult to guefs the cause : 155 But when they fmelt fuch foul corruptions round him, i Away they fled, and left him as they found him. 160 Thus, when a greedy floven once has thrown His fnot into the mefs, 'tis all his own. The HARDSHIP put upon the LADIES. Written in the year 1733. poor ladies! though their bus'nefs be to play, "Tis hard they must be bufy night and day : Why should they want the priviledge of men. Nor take fome small diverfions now and then? Had women been the makers of our laws; (And why they were not, I can fee no cause): The men fhould flave at cards from morn to night; And female pleasures be to read and write. 5 The ********************** The following poem was firft printed in Fog's journal of the 17th of September 1733. The fubject of it is now over; but our author's known zeal against that project, made it be generally fuppofed to be his. It was occafioned by the bishops of Ireland endeavouring to get an act to divide the church-livings; which bill was rejected by the Irish houfe of Commons *. Written in the year 1731. LD Latimer preaching did fairly defcribe OLD 5 A bishop, who rul'd all the rest of his tribe; And who is this bishop? and where does he dwell ?. Why, truly, 'tis Satan, Archbishop of hell. And He was a primate, and He wore a mitre Surrounded with jewels of fulphur and nitre. How nearly this bifhop our bishops refembles! But he has the odds, who believes and who trembles. Could you fee his grim Grace, for a pound to a penny, ΙΟ You'd fwear it must be the baboon of K-y: 15 * See confiderations on this bill, in vol. 4. p. 92. Our |