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Corp'ral, quoth the devil, and began to roar,
Corp'ral, make hafte, for here's a priest at door!
The corporal afrighted, cryed, away!
Be gone, thou priest, for here thou may't not stay :
For he who upon earth did prove so evil
To eat his God, will eat in hell the devil.

The Reformation.

TELL me not of lords and laws,

T Rules or reformation,
All that's done's not worth two ftraws

To the welfare of the nation ;
If men in pow'r do rant it still,
And give no reason but their will

For all their domination;
Or, if they do an act that's juft,
'Tis not because they wou'd, but mult,
To gratify some party's lust,

Or meerly for a fashion.

All our expence of Blood and purse

Has yet produc'd no profit ;
Men are still as bad, or worse,

And will whate'er comes of it ; ,
We've shufi'd out, and shuffld in
The person, but retain the fin,

To make our game the furer ;
Yet spite of all our pains and skill,
The knaves all in the pack are still,
And ever were, and ever will,

Tho' something now demurer,

And it cannot but be fo,

Since those toys in fashion ;
Are of souls fo base and low,

Meer bigots of the nation ;
Whose designs are pow'r and wealch,
At which by rapine, fraud, and stealth,

Audaciously they vent're ye ;

· They

They lay their consciences afide,
And turn with ev'ry wind and tide,
Puff'd on by ignorance and pride,

And all to look like gentry.

Crimes are not punish'd 'cause they're crimes,

But 'cause they're low and little ; Mean men for mean faults in these times

Make satisfaction to a tittle, While those in office and in-power, Boldly the underlings devour,

Our cobweb-laws can't hold 'em ; They sell for many a thousand crown Things which were never yet their own, And this is law and custom grown;

'Cause those do judge who fold 'em.

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Brothers still with brothers brawl,

And for trifles sue 'em,.,.; . For two pronouns that spoil all,

Contentious meum and tuum ;
The wary lawyer buys and builds,
While the client sells his fields,

To sacrifice his fury;
And when he thinks t'obtain his right,
He's bafil'd off, or beaten quite,
By th? judges will, or lawyer's Night,

Or ign'rance of the jury.

See the tradesman, how he thrives

With perpetual trouble;
How he cheats and how he strives

His estate t'enlarge and double ;
Extort, oppress, grind, and encroach,
To be a squire and keep a coach,

And to be one o'th' Quorum,
Who may with's brother-worships fit,
And judge without law, fear, or wit,
Poor petty thieves, that nothing get,

And yet are brought before 'em.

And And his way to get all this,

Is meer diffimulation;
No factious lecture does he miss,

And scapes no schism in fashion:
But, with Thort hair and shining shoes,
He with two pens and's note-book goes,

And winks, and writes at random ;
Thence, with thort meal and tedious grace,
In a loud tone and publick place.
Sings Wisdom's hymns, that trot and pace

As if Goliah scann'd 'em.

But when death begins his threats,

And his conscience struggles,
To call to mind his former cheats,

Then at heaven he turns his juggles ;
And out of all's ill-gotten store
He gives a dribbling to the poor,

An hospital or school-house ;
And the suborn'd priest, for his hire,
Quite frees him from th'infernal fire,
And places him in th'angels choir:

Thus these jack-puddings fool us!

All he gets by's pains, i'th' close,

Is, that he dy'd worth so much ; Which he on's doubtful seed bestows,

That neither care nor know much : Then fortune's favourite, his heir, Bred base, and ignorant, and bare,

Is blown up like a bubble ; Who, wondring at's own sudden rise, By pride, fimplicity, and vice, : Falls to his sports, drink, drabs, and dice,

And makes all fly like stubble.

And the church, the other twin,

Whose mad zeal enrag'd us, Is not purified a pin

By all those broils in which fh'engag'd us :

We our wives turn'd out of doors,
And took in concubines and whores,

To make an alteration :
Our pulpiteers are proud and bold,
They their own wills and factions hold,
And fell falvation still for gold :

And here's our reformation!

"Tis a madness then to make

Thriving our employment,
And lucre love for lucre's fake,

Since we've posseflion, not enjoyment.
Let the times run on their course,
For opposition makes them worse,

We ne'er shall better find 'em;
Let grandees wealth and pow'r engross,
And honour too, while we gt close,
And laugh, and take our plenteous dose

Of sack, and never mind 'em.


CINCE it has been lately enacted high-treason

For a man to speak truth of the heads of the state, Let every one make use of his reason,

See and hear what he can, but take heed what he prate ; For the proverbs do learn us,

He that stays from the battle Peeps in a whole skin,
And our words are our own if we can keep'em in ;
What fools are we then who to prattle begin
Of matters that do not concern us i

Let the three kingdoms fall to one of the prime ones,

My mind is a kingdom, and shall be to me: I'd make it appear, if I had but the time once,

I'm happier with one than he can be with three,
If I may but enjoy it:

He that's mounted on high, is a mark for the hate,
And the envy, of every pragmatical pate,

While he that lies low is secure in his state,
And the great ones do scorn to annoy it.

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I'm never the better which fide gets the battle,

The tubs or the croffes, what is it to me? 'Twill neither encrease my goods nor my chattle,

For a beggar's a beggar, and so he fhall be, Unless he turn traytor.

Let misers take courses to heap up their treasure, Whose luft has no limits, whose mind has no measure ;

Let me but bé quiet, and take a little pleasure, A little contents my nature.

My petition shall be, that canary be cheaper,

Without patent, or custom, or curfed excise, That the wits may have leave to drink deeper and deeper,

And not be undone while their heads they baptize,
And in liquor to drench 'em :

If this were but granted, who wou'd not desire
To dub himself one of Apollo's own choir ?

We'll ring out the bells when our noses are on fire,
And the quarts shall be buckets to quench 'em.

I account him no wit that is gifted at railing.

And flirting at those who above him do fit, While they can outdo him at whipping and jayling,

Then his purse or his person must pay for his wit, 'Tis better to be drinking :

If sack were reform'd into twelve-pence a quart,
I'd study for money to merchandise for't,

And with a true friend wou'd make merry and sport, Not a word, but we'll pay 'em with thinking.

The Tub-preacher.

W I TH face and fafhion to be known,

V With eyes all white, and many a groan, .
With neck awry, and fnivelling tone,
And handkerchief from nose new blown,
And loving cant to fifter Joan,

'Tis a new teacher about the town, Ob! the town's new teacher.

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