Page images
PDF
EPUB

And fuch is my prolific pow'r,
They bloom in less than half an hour:
Yet ftanders-by may plainly fee
They get no nourishment from me.、
My head with giddiness goes round;
And yet I firmly ftand my ground:
All over naked I am feen,
And painted like an Indian queen.
No couple-beggar in the land,
E'er join'd fuch numbers hand in hand;
I join them fairly with a ring;
Nor can our parfon blame the thing:
And tho' no marriage-words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke,
Yet hypocrite fanatics cry,
I'm but an idol rais'd on high;

And once a weaver in our town,

A damn'd Cromwellian, knock'd me down.

I lay a pris'ner twenty years,

And then the jovial cavaliers

To their old poft restor❜d all three,

I mean the church, the king, and me.

5

10

15

20

VERSES on the upright judge who condemned the DRAPIER'S printer.

Written in the year 1724.

THE church I hate, and have good reafon ;
For there my grandfire cut his weazon :

He cut his weazon at the altar ;

I keep my gullet for the halter.

On the fame.

N church your grandfire cut his throat :
To do the job too long he tarry'd ;

He should have had my hearty vote,
To cut his throat before he marry?d.

On the fame.

(The judge fpeaks).

"M not the grandson of that ass Quin *;

I'M

Nor can you prove it, Mr Pasquin.
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 jealousy.
And, fince the alderman was mad you fay,
Then I must be fo too, ex traduce.

5

A SIMILE, on our want of SILVER, and the only way to remedy it.

Written in the year 1725.

AS when of old fome forc'ress threw

O'er the moon's face a fable hue,

[ocr errors]

To drive unseen her magic chair,
At midnight, thro' the darken'd air;
Wife people, who believ'd with reafon,
That this eclipfe was out of season,
Affirm'd the moon was fick, and fell
To cure her by a counter-spell..
Ten thousand cymbals now begin
To rend the skies with brazen din;
The cymbals rattling founds dispel
The cloud, and drive the hag to hell:
The moon, deliver'd from her pain,
Difplays her filver face again.

(Note here, that, in the chymic style,
The moon is filver all this while).

So (if my fimile you minded, Which I confefs is too long-winded). » ↑ An alderman,

10

15

When late a feminine magician *,
Join'd with a brazen politician,
Expos'd, to blind the nation's eyes,
A parchment of prodigious fize ‡;
Conceal'd behind that ample fcreen,
There was no filver to be seen.
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 shrivel,

And drive the conj'rers to the devil :

20

25

30.

And when the sky is grown ferene,

Our filver will appear again.

SA

On Wood the IRONMONGER.

Written in the year 1725.

Almoneus, as the Grecian tale is,
Was a mad copperfmith of Elis;
Up at his forge by morning-peep,
No creature in the lane could fleep.
Among a crew of royft'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 muft needs devife
To ape the thunder of the skies:
With brass two fiery fteeds he fhod,
To make a clatt'ring as they trod.
Of polish'd brafs his flaming car
Like lightning dazzled from afar ;
And up he mounts into the box,
And he muft thunder, with a pox.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

A great lady is reported to have been bribed by Wood,
A patent to William Wood, for coining halfpence.

Then furious he begins his march,
Drives rattling o'er a brazen arch:
With fquibs and crackers arm'd to throw
Among the trembling crowd below.
All ran to pray'rs, both priefts 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 sprawling?
They fearch'd his pockets on the place,
And found his copper all was base;
They laugh'd at fuch an Irish blunder,
To take the noife of brafs for thunder.
THE moral of this tale is proper,
Apply'd to Wood's adult'rate copper:
Which, as he scatter'd, we like dolts
Miftook at first for thunderbolts;
Before the Drapier shot a letter,
(Nor Jove himself could do it better),
Which lighting on th' impoftor's crown,

20

25

30

35

Like real thunder knock'd him down.

WOOD AN INSECT.

Written in the year 1725.

Y long obfervation I have understood,

BY

That two little vermin are kind to Will Wood,

The firft 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:

10

15

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 swallow'd alive, or skilfully 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,
Or fick of obftructions, and pains in her cheft.
THE next is an infe&t 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 scratch;
And chambermaids christen this worm a death watch;
Because, like a watch, it always cries click:
Then woe be to thofe in the house who are fick ;
For, as fure as a gun, they will give up the ghost,
If the maggot cries click, when it scratches the poft.
But a kettle of fcalding hot water injected

Infallibly cures the timber affected;

21

25

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

30

Of a governing ftatesman or favourite whore:
The death of our nation he seem'd to foretel,
And the found of his brass we took for our knell.
But now fince the Drapier hath heartily maul'd him,
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 copper;
Unless like the Dutch, you rather would boil
This coiner of raps† in a cauldron of oil.

*He was in jail for debt.

† A cant word in Ireland for a counterfeit halfpenny.

« PreviousContinue »