VERSES on the upright Judge who condemned the Drapier's Printer.
Written in the year 1724.
HE church I hate, and have good reason;
For there m my grandfire cut his weazon :
He cut his weazon at the altar;
I keep my gullet for the halter.
IN church your grandfire cut his throat:
To do the job too long he tarry'd;
He fhould have had my hearty vote,
To cut his throat before he marry'd.
I'M not the grandfon of that afs Quin*,
Nor can you prove it, Mr Pafquin.
My grand-dame had gallants by twenties,
And bore my mother by a 'prentice;
This when my grandfire knew, they tell us he
In Chrift-church cut his throat for jealoufy.
And, fince the alderman was mad you fay,
Then must I be fo too, ex traduce.
A SIMILE on our want of Silver, and the only way to remedy it.
Written in the year 1725.
S when of old fome forc'refs threw
O'er the moon's face a fable hue,
To drive unseen her magic chair,
At midnight, through the darken'd air;
Wife people, who believ'd with reafon,-
That this eclipfe was out of feafon,
Affirm'd the moon was fick, and fell
To cure her by a counter-fpell.
Ten thousand cymbals now begin
To rend the fkies with brazen din;
The cymbal's rattling founds difpel
The cloud, and drive the hag to hell::
The moon, deliver'd from her pain,
Displays her filver face again.
(Note here, that in the chymic ftyle,.
The moon is filver all this while).
So (if my fimile you minded,
Which I confefs is too long winded).
When late a feminine magician *,
Join'd with a brazen politician,
Expos'd, to blind the nation's eyes,
A parchment of prodigious fize † ;
A great lady is reported to have been bribed by Wood.
A patent to William Wood for coining halfpence.
Conceal'd behind that ample fcreen,
There was no filver to be feen.
But to this parchment let the Drapier
Oppofe his counter-charm of paper,
And ring Wood's copper in our ears
So loud, till all the nation hears :
That found will make the parchment fhrivel,
And drive the conj'rers to the devil:
And when the fky is grown ferene,
Our filver will appear again.
Written in the year 1725.
Salmoneus, as the Grecian tale is,
Was a mad coppersmith of Elis;
Up at his forge by morning-peep,
No creature in the lane could fleep.
Among a crew of royst'ring fellows
Would fit whole ev'nings at the alehouse:
His wife and children wanted bread,
While he went always drunk to bed.
This vap'ring fcab must needs devife
Το
ape the thunder of the kies:
With brafs too fiery fteeds he fhod,
To make a clatt'ring as they trod.
Of polifh'd brafs his flaming car
Like lightning dazzled from afar;
And up he mounts into the box,
And he must thunder, with a pox,
Then furious he begins his march,
Drives rattling o'er a brazen arch:
With fquibs and crackers arm'd to throw
Among the trembling croud below.
All ran to pray'rs, both priests and laity,
To pacify this angry deity;
When Jove, in pity to the town,
With real thunder knock'd him down.
Then what a huge delight were all in,
To fee the wicked varlet fprawling?
They fearch'd his pockets on the place,
And found his copper all was bafe;
They laugh'd at fuch an Irish blunder,
To take the noise of brass for thunder.
The moral of this tale is proper, Apply'd to Wood's adul'trate copper:
Which, as he fcatter'd, we like dolts
Miftook at firft for thunderbolts;
Before the Drapier fhot a letter.
(Nor Jove himself could do it better),
Which lighting on th' impoftor's crown,
Like real thunder knock'd him down.
Written in the year 1725.
Y long obfervation I have understood,
That two little vermin are kin to Will. Wood.
The first is an infect they call a wood-louse,
That folds up itself in itself for a house,
As round as a ball, without head, without tail, 5
Inclos'd cap-a-pee in a strong coat of mail.
And thus William Wood to my fancy appears
In fillets of brass roll'd up to his ears:
And over these fillets he wifely has thrown,
To keep out of danger, a doublet of stone *
The loufe of the wood for a med'cine is us'd, Or fwallow'd alive, or fkilfully bruis'd. And let but our mother Hibernia contrive To fwallow Will Wood either bruis'd or alive, She need be no more with the jaundice poffeft, 15 Or fick of obftructions, and pains in her cheft.
The next is an infect we call a wood-worm, That lies in old wood like a hare in her form : With teeth or with claws it will bite or will fcratch; And chambermaids chriften this worm a death
Because, like a watch, it always cries click:
Then wo be to thofe in the house who are fick;
For, as fure as a gun, they will give up the ghoft,
If the maggot cries click, when it fcratches the poft.
But a kettle of fcalding hot water injected
Infallibly cures the timber affected :
The omen is broken, the danger is over;
The maggot will die, and the fick will recover.
Such a worm was Will Wood, when he fcratch'd at the door
Of a governing ftatefian or favourite whore : 30 The death of our nation he seem'd to foretell,
And the found of his brafs we took for our knell. But now fince the Drapier hath heartily maul`d
I think the best thing we can do is to scald him. For which operation there's nothing more proper 35 Than the liquor he deals in, his own melted capper;
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