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The ducal coffers, trusted to your charge, 45
Your honeft care may fill, perhaps enlarge.
His vassals easy, and the owner bleft,
They pay a trifle, and enjoy the rest.
Not so a nation's revenues are paid ;
The servant's faults are on the master laid.
The people with a figh their taxes bring :
And cursing Bob, forget to bless the King.

Next hearken, Gay, to what thy charge requires. With servants, tenants, and the neighb’ring 'fquires. Let all domeftics feel your gentle sway :

55 Nor bribe, insult, nor flatter, nor betray, Let due reward to merit be allow'd; Nor with your kindred half the palace crowd. Nor think yourself secure in doing wrong, By telling noses with a party strong.

60 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 immense, Presume to treat him at his own expence. Each farmer in the neighbourhood can count, 65 To what your lawful perquisites amount. The tenants poor, the hardness of the times, Are ill excuses for a fervant's crimes. With int’rest, and a premium paid befide, The master's prefling wants must be supply'd; 70 With hasty zeal behold the steward come By his own credit to advance the sum; Who, while th' unrighteous Mammon is his friend, May well conclude his pow'r will never end. A faithful treas’rer! what could he do more? 75 He lends my Lord, what was my Lord's before.

The law so strictly guards the monarch's health, That no physician dares prescribe by stealth :

The council fit; approve the Doctor's skill;
And give advice before he gives the pill.

80 But

But the state-imp’rie acts a safer part;
And while he poisons, wins the royal heart.
But how can I describe the rav’nous breed?,
Then let me now by negatives proceed.


Suppose your Lord a trusty servant send On weighty bus'nofs to fome neighb'ring friend; Presume not, Gay, unless you serve a drone, To countermand his orders by your own.

Should fome imperious neighbour fink the boats, And drain the fith ponds, while your master dotes; Shall he upon the ducal rights intrench, 91 Because he brib’d you with a brace of tench ?


Nor from your Lord his bad condition hide
To feed his luxury, or footh his pride.
Nor at an under-rate his timber fell,
And with an oath assure him, all is well,
Or swear it rotten *; and with humble airs
Request it of him to compleat your stairs.
Nor when a mortgage lies on half his lands,
Come with a purse of guineas in

your hands.

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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, 105 Is humbly pray'd to ruin twenty more t.

A dextrous steward, when his tricks are found, Hush-money sends to all the neighbours round;

* These lines are thought to allude to some story concerning a great quantity of mahogony declared rotten, and then applied by somebody to wainscot, stairs, door.cales, &c. + He had practised this trade for many years wiih success.

His master, unsuspicious of his pranks,
Pays all the cost, and gives the villain thanks. 118
And fhould a f icnd attempt to set him right,
His lordship would'impute it all to spite :
Would love his fav’rite better than before,
And trust his honesty just so much more.
Thus families, like realms, with equal fate, 115
Are funk by premier ministers of state.


Some, when an heir succeeds, go bold'y on, And, as they rob'd the father, rob the fon. A knave who deep imbroils his lord's affairs, Will foon grow neceffary to his heirs. His policy consists in setting traps, In finding ways and ineans, and stopping gaps ; He knows a thousand tricks whene'er he please, Though not to cure, yet palliate each disease. In either case an equal chance is run;

125 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 dep'rate cafe! To act with infamy, or quit the place, 130

A bungler thus, who scarce the nail can hit, With driving wrong will make the pannel fplit : Nor dares an abler workman undertake To drive a fecond, left the whole should break.

In every court the parallel will hold;

135 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 skill repairs. 140 So robbers, (and their ends are just the same), To 'scape inquiries, leave the houfe in flame.

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.

150 The court invited more than one or two ; Will you, Sir Spencer ? or, Will you, or you? But not a soul his office durst

accept; The subtle knave had all the plunder fwept ; And such was then the temper of the times, 155 He ow'd his preservation to his crimes. The candidates observ'd his dirty paws, Nor found it difficult to guess the cause : But when they smelt such foul corruptions round

him, i Away they fled, and left him as they found him. 260

Thus, when a greedy floven once has thrown His snot into the mess, 'tis all his own,

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POor ladies ! though their bus’ness be to play,

'Tis hard they must be busy night and day : Why should they want the priviledge of men. Nor take some small diverfions now and then ? Had women been the makers of our laws; 5 (And why they were not, I can see no cause): The men should save at cards from morn to night; And female pleasures be to read and write.


The following poem was first printed in

Fog's journal of the 17th of September 1733. The subject of it is now over; but our author's known zeal against that project, made it be generally supposed to be his. It was occasioned by the bishops of Ireland endeavouring to get an act to divide the church-livings; which bill was rejected by the Irih house of Commons *.

Written in the year 1731.

LD Latimer preaching did fairly describe

A bishop, who ruld 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 5
Surrounded with jewels of sulphur and nitre.
How nearly this bishop our bishops resembles !
But he has the odds, who believes and who trembles.
Could you see his grim Grace, for a pound to a

penny, You'd swear it must be the baboon of KPoor Satan will think the comparison odious: I wish I could find him out one more commodious. But this I am sure, the most rev’rend old dragon Has got on the bench many b---ps fuffragan; And all men believe he presides there incog. 15 To give them, by turns, an invisible jog.

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ons on this bill, in vol. 4. p. 92.


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