The Editor humbly hopes the following papers will convince your Majefty of the justness of that caufe in which the author of them is engaged; and that whilft thofe who are his enemies continue to mifreprefent him, in order to prevent your Royal Favour being extended towards him, his own teftimony of facts may have some weight, and incline your Majefty to think of him as he is ---a man of abilities and merit.

That your Majefty may long reign in the full enjoyment of an undisturbed peace; in the hearts of your people; and (as a Prince poffeffed of the moft exalted fentiments of virtue and religion) may you live equally feared abroad and respected and beloved at home, is the fincere wish of

SIRE!

Your dutiful, affectionate,

And obedient fubject,

The EDITOR.

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Humbly inscribed to JOHN WILKES, Esq.

LESS'D by the anxious crowd that murm'ring wait
With fix'd attention on their hero's fate,

Whilft you, my friend, with manly wit beguile
Those fuff'rings which difgrace fair Freedom's ifle;
Whilft you can chear the heart, dispel its fear,
And force a smile where gufh'd the tender tear;
Can boast a patriot's right to British fame,
And rife fuperior to the tyrant's aim
Let malice threaten, ftill purfue thy plan,
The greatest suff'rer's now the greatest man.
Though penfion'd peers grow frantic at the name,
Thy cause, and Liberty's, are still the fame;
Though B** E, to wreak his vengeance o'er the land,
Send forth the troops to kill at his command;
Though B******** N, in orders moft profane,
Give thanks to those who had the guiltless flain;

Though M*******d, N****n, N***s exert their force,
To turn the stream of justice from its course;

GLYNN fhall protect what candour must approve,
And Truth and Dunning gain their country's love;

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Say, when of late the nation's council met,
And fat in judgment on that culprit, Wit;
Say, was afronted minifters the cause

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That urg'd those worthies to annul their laws?
To vote their facred privilege away,

And brand with infamy that fatal day?

No-'twas the rankling fore at length burst forth,
And spread its baleful influence from the North.
Each minion stalks a champion for the Thane,
To crush the patriot who had fix'd the stain :
The ftain is fix'd, the patriot is confin'd,
Whose fting remains to goad th' oppreffor's mind.
Guilt's always fetter'd, virtue's always free,

A COURT'S A GOAL DEPRIV'D OF LIBERTY.
Sing next, my mufe, the dire contested fray,
Where Harley dar'd the dangers of the day;
(Propitious day, that could at once create
A mèrchant-taylor councellor of state !)
A numerous multitude contriv'd to meet,
And halloo FORTY-FIVE through every street;
And (what's incredible!) were heard to cry

These words feditious, - WILKES and LIBERTY!
On lofty standards in the air did float
Those hieroglyphics, BOOT and PETTICOAT.
Soon as their dreadful fhouts accoft the ear
Of grocer knights, and traders in small beer,'
Confounded and amaz'd, the Guildhall court
Forget their custard, and forfake their port;
Away, with ghaftly looks, to Harley ran,
And thus in doleful plight, their dismal tale began.

Moft honour'd, moft belov'd, thou best of men!
"Behold thy fuppliant court of ALDERMEN !
"Behold them proftrate on thy lordly floor!
"O fave us, for the danger's at our door!

"Thy Tory race no citizen but knows,

Thy friends and Liberty's must needs be foes." His Lordship fmil'd, and gave th' approving nod, Thrice fhook his chain, thrice wav'd his willow rod, Then cry'd," My brethren, courage is my fort, ""Twas that advanc'd my int'reft with the court; "I'll fcourge the fcoundrels! I'll DRAGOON them hence; "This love of Liberty's mere want of fenfe."

Then from his manfion rufh'd the val'rous chief,

To ferve his country, or to take a thief;
But more refolv'd to crush REBELLION's root,
And triumph o'er the PETTICOAT and BOOT.
In equal balance hung the fierce dispute,
Between the war-like magiftrate and BOOT;
The BOOT and PETTICOAT at length gave way,
And now remain the trophies of the day.
The PETTICOAT and BOOT, confign'd to fame,
Shall waft to latest times this hero's name.

So the fpruce dunghil cock, elate with pride,
Struts, crows and flutters by his lady's fide;
But if, in search of food, he chance to ftray,.
And meet fome neighbour dunghil by the way,
Cries, -"Brother, brother, we are both to blame,
"Leave fighting to those brutal cocks of game.

Lo! from the huftings, when the herald loud
The candidates proclaim, the buzzing crowd
Rais'd every hand for thee, on thee they call,
And acclamation fhook the trembling hall :
But fingly when they sneak'd to give their voice,
They bafely fear'd to justify their choice.

Blush, blush, ye Livery!-hide the guilty gown!
Left BUTE and Slav'ry mark it for their own.
This vile disgrace no city craft can cure,
Th' indignant badge for ever must endure.

Not

Not fo the fons of Freedom BRENTFORD boasts, Alike their fentiments, alike their toasts;

Unaw'd, uninfluenc'd by the powers above,
They CHUSE the man their confciences APPROVE
Howe'er a Luttrell may have face to fit,

A WILKES fecures the greater number YET;
Twelve hundred friends supports the noble cause,
Το try their power, and support their laws;
Such matchless zeal, beyond example free,
Shall eternize thy MIDDLESEX and Thee:
Old Time shall change his fickle for the rake,
And spare the record for its country's fake.
Sick of those plagues whom little folks call great,
Those PATAGONIAN monsters of the ftate,

Whose vice betrays the fountain whence they spring,
The certain fpurious offspring of a K ---

Sick of all knaves and fools of either fex,

Whose flatt'ry naufeates, or whofe praises vex,

For thee I feek, my friend, but seek in vain,
Thou grand specific for a fickly brain;
Like thee no modern doctor has the skill
To cure corrupted brothers of the quill,
From learned Baker, down to Dock-root Hill.
O! when, again, beneath that fost'ring roof,
Where focial pleasure never met reproof,
Where joys convivial crown the festive board,
And every fon of LIBERTY's a LORD;
Where laughter-loving friends a thousand ways,
Provoke to wit, or chaunt their roundelays;
Where gospel-fchifm never yet had birth,
Or politics, that enemy to mirth.

O! foon (fequefter'd from these canker'd times,
When candid truths are conftru'd into crimes)