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THE True-Born Engliſhman: A SATYR, Anſwer'd, Paragraph by Paragraph.

Neſcio, quâ Natale ſolum dulcedine cunctos
[...]ucit, & immemores non ſinit eſſe ſui.
Ovid.

London: Printed in the Year 1701.

TO THE Right Worſhipful Sir Charles Duncomb, Knt. And Alderman of the City of London.

[]
SIR,

THO' Your Merit has ſuch an eſtabliſh'd Baſis, that neither the Malice of the Evil Speaker, nor the reſtleſs Attempts of the Evil Doer can ſhake it; and Your Memory ſtands ſecur'd of Fame and Immortality, in ſpight of the Murmurs of the Seditious, and the prevailing Numbers of a ſort of People who are unacquainted with Juſtice or fair Dealing; yet 'tis but fitting that ſome ſhould ſtand up in Vindication of what every one ſhould defend, and Aſſert the Cauſe of a Gentleman whoſe Works of Charity deſerve better returns than the Baſe and Ʋncharitable Reflections that are flung upon him.

[]But you have this Conſolation amongſt the Clamours of the Ungrateful, that the ſame Perſon who makes it his Buſineſs to miſrepreſent Your Vertues and render 'em Odious (if poſſible) to Poſterity, has done the ſame by Your Country; and as you have alway's ſtood up for the Kingdoms good againſt all manner of Oppoſers, ſo you are now a ſufferer with it, from the Calumnies that are equally darted againſt Both.

To be a Patriot in theſe days, is to provide a Task for the Tongues of the Envious, and to give Alms and Relieve thoſe that are in want, is immediately ſet down for an Act of Oſtentation; elſe, Sir Charles Duncomb had ſeen his Countrymen Reap the Fruits of what he Sow'd, and the Voice of the People had bleſs'd him for giving Ear to the Cry of the Priſoners, and plentifully dealing part of what he was poſſeſs'd of to People in Diſtreſs.

But I give more Offence to your Patience in remembring you of the Good you have done, than the Poetaſter, who has occaſion'd the following Remarks, by putting on the Readers belief by the Ill you have not; and it is equally troubleſome to be accus'd of Faults [] you are not Guilty of, as it is to be told of Vertues which are inherent in Your Temper, and ſhine with ſuch a continued Luſtre in all Your Actions.

I ſhall therefore only leave my Petition behind me, for Your Acceptance, of what the knowledge of Your Worth has occaſion'd; and if the Papers I have written, have not done that Juſtice, either to my Country or Your Self, Which both deſerv'd, that You would give me leave to beg pardon for their Defects, and impute 'em to the too haſty Zeal of,

Sir,
Your most Humble And most Obedient Servant.

THE PREFACE.

[]

THere being nothing material in the Preface to this ſcurrilous Satyr, that has not been repeated over and over again in the Body of it; I cannot but think it very ſuitable to the Buſineſs in hand, to forbear making any further Remarks on the Poets Indecencies, and apply my ſelf to make Excuſes for my own.

If the Performance I have let looſe into the World is Bad, I have nothing to urge in my own defence, but the haſt I was oblig'd to make in the finiſhing it, thro' the deſire of two or three Friends, and the difficulty there is in anſwering a Pamphlet Paragraph by Paragraph, which has ſuch a Redundancy of Tautologies, as this has.

I ſhould indeed have made my Reply to it in Verſe, that being counted the fairer way of entring the Liſts with a Poet, but as I never had any great Inclination to Dactyls and Spondees, ſo I was afraid I ſhould ſhew my ſelf as great a Bungler at the Trade of Rhiming as the Perſon has convinc'd the World he is, whom I write in oppoſition to.

[]However, ſince he ends his Preface in Verſe, I hope I ſhall ſtand excus'd, if I make uſe of the ſame Method, and give the Reader a ſhort Specimen of my Poetry, after he has tyr'd him with a large one of his. My Intent at firſt, notwithſtanding my ſmall Acquaintance with the Nine Water drinking Ladies the Muſes, was to have taken up the Cudgels with him in Verſe, but ſuch a Deſign requiring more Time than I have to beſtow upon Poetry, I thought it adviſable to lay it aſide, that I might drudge on in the Beaten Way of good Honeſt, Humble Proſe, and have flung by the following Lines which were written as ſo many Anſwers to his two firſt Paragraphs.

Satyr, Ariſe, Thy Whips and Stings provide,
And ſhake thy Scorpions on thy Country's ſide,
While her own Sons their Parents Bowels tear,
And meditate a more than Civil War.
Speak, ſpeak the Cauſe that make's the Vip'rous Breed
The Rules of Modeſty and Truth exceed,
Eager to deal about their want of Shame,
And impiouſly Elaſpheme BRITANNIA's Name.

The Land has yet, tho' puniſh'd for it's Crimes,
Patriots who dare be juſt in thankleſs Times,
Whom neither Gifts nor Penſions can Perſuade
Tamely to ſee their Liberties betray'd,
Or Forreigners their proper Rights invad [...].
[]Not that they would Alliances diſclaim,
But D—ch-Men are at Home at Am—am,
And it has been a Cuſtomary thing
For Engliſhmen to ſerve an Engliſh King.
Elſe had our Senators with Patience heard
Myn Heer to Pr—cip—lity prefer'd
And H— deſervedly the Nation's Boaſt,
Forborn Reflections on a P—g—'s Poſt.
But ſince Exceſs of R—y—l Bounty falls,
And He Commands within the P—lace Walls;
Since on his Leg the Britiſh Order ſhines,
And He diſdain's His Belgick Father's Loyns,
The Golden-Key not make's the Patriot ſpeak,
But England's Honour, and His Countrie's ſake.

THE True Born-Engliſhman. A SATYR, Anſwer'd Paragraph by Paragraph.

[1]

AS it is the Duty of every one, that breaths Engliſh Air, to ſtand up for the Place of his Nativity, and Vindicate the Engliſh Nation from the Reproaches which Malice would faſten on it; ſo I cannot but think my ſelf oblig'd to take notice of a Libel which has ſtoln into the World, under the Name of a Satyr, and diſpers'd its Venom in a conceal'd manner, againſt a People whoſe Reputation in the Arts of War and Peace has rendred 'em Famous throughout all Chriſtendom. Had the Author of it been an open Enemy, perhaps, I could have born it, but he is our Acquaintance, and our familiar Friend, a Man ſubject to the ſame Laws as Engliſhmen are, and Liable to the ſame Obligations; entertain'd by 'em, when he was forc'd [2] to fly from the Scourges of Ireland; and Hoſpitably receiv'd, when he had not where to lay his Head in a Kingdom which owes her Obedience to this. The Printer alſo is known for what he is, a Sowre, Diſcontented, Canting Fellow, as ever Murmur'd at falling Manna, or found fault with the Bounties of the Almighty. He has formerly been made City Surveyor, for a Crime of the ſame Nature, and taken a Proſpect of its Buildings from his Wooden Edifice in the middle of the Street; and one might have thought, unleſs he was in love with that Scandalous Office, he would have avoided all manner of Occaſion of bring lifted up above his Neighbours again. But He's arriv'd to ſuch a heighth of Malignancy, ſuch an inveteracy of Temper, as to be his Author's Humble Servant, while he was Lampooning his God, and making Sport with the Divine Exiſtence of Him that made Him. Therefore 'tis not to be ſuppos'd he would ſtick at lending his helping Hand towards Abuſes upon the Country where he would have us think him Born, after he had been forward in promoting Blaſphemous Expreſſions, againſt the Holy One of Iſrael that gave him Breath. I ſhall have Field enough elſewhere to take the Author to task, who acknowledg'd he expected it in his Preface, tho' for other ſort of Indecencies, than His mean Style, rough Verſe, and incorrect Language, and make appear he labours under a greater ſcarcity of Manners, than the Country he ſhews his Teeth at ever can. We are happy indeed that a Man of his Character has no great eſteem for us, and 'tis a certain ſign a People is Good when thoſe who are notoriouſly Wicked, ſpeak reproachfully of 'em; ſince it muſt be granted, few Men fall out [3] with their own likeneſs, or are at variance with their own Reſemblance. But a Man is known by his Works, and the way to make him appear in his true Colours, is to ſearch into 'em, and find out the Blackneſs of his Soul, by the foulneſs of his Thoughts. It's fitting therefore we fall into the SATYR, and examine whether the Poet be as infamous as the Subject, or he has the ſame Talent of ingratitude in Verſe, as he is celebrated for in Proſe. Mr. T— has a fit of Mortification coming upon him, or he would have leſs value for the Hungry Entertainments on Mount Parnaſſus, and is reconciling himſelf to his old Jeſuitical Abſtinence and Days of Faſting, or he would ſcarce fall in Love with telling his Fingers, and making wry Faces for adequate Epithets, as he now certainly does. While his verſifying Folly gives us Occaſion to examine his other faults, and make an Eſtimate of the laſt from the wretched Ingredients the firſt is compos'd of. But his Poetry carries ſuch an invitation with it, that it's pity the Reader ſhould be any longer detain'd from it. I ſhall begin therefore with the Invocation of his Muſe which I find is but a very ſcurvey one by her Name and to avoid Confuſion, make Remarks on this Celebrated Piece, Paragraph after Paragraph.

The Introduction.

[4]
Speak, Satyr; for there's none can tell like thee,
Whether 'tis Folly, Pride, or Knavery,
That makes the diſcontented Land appear
Leſs happy now in Times of Peace, than War:
Why Civil Feuds diſturb the Nation more
Than all our bloody Wars have done before.

Satyr, is too mild a Name, and the Deſign of it too good to be made uſe of by ſuch a Perſon as the Poet; had he deſir'd the aſſiſtance of a Bilingſgate Amazon, 'twould have been more agreeable to the Matter contain'd in the Poem. For Reformation is very far from his Intentions, ſince to create Jealouſies and Uneaſineſs amongſt us, has been always the buſineſs of Incendiaries like himſelf; and if the Land is diſcontented, he's miſtaken in the Cauſe of it, which probably is, we have had ſo much Money ſpent to ſupport a War, that ſome People have very little left to enjoy after a Peace.

Fools out of Favour grudge at Knaves in Place,
And Men are always honeſt in Diſgrace:
The Court-Preferments make Men Knaves in courſe:
But they which wou'd be in them wou'd be worſe.
'Tis not at Foreigners that we repine,
Wou'd Foreigners their Perquiſites reſign:
The Grand Contention's plainly to be ſeen,
To get ſome Men put out, and ſome put in.
[5]For this our S—rs make long Harangues,
And florid M—rs whet their poliſh'd Tongues.
Stateſmen are always ſick of one Diſeaſe;
And a good Penſion gives them preſent Eaſe,
That's the Specifick makes them all content
With any King, and any Government.
Good Patriots at Court-Abuſes rail,
And all the Nation's Grievances bewail:
But when the Sov'reign Balſam's once appli'd,
The Zealot never fails to change his Side.
And when he muſt the Golden Key reſign,
The Railing Spirit comes about again.

The Parliament, in general, is much oblig'd to him for ſome Expreſſions in this Paragraph, and Mr. H— in particular, who I am ſatisfied loves his Country better than any Golden Key whatſoever. Every true Patriot ought to ſtand up for his own Countrymen; and if Foreigners jump into Poſts, that our Civil Conſtitutions allow Natives only to be inſtated in, 'tis their Buſineſs as they are Engliſh Repreſentatives, to take care of the Peoples Prerogatives they are entruſted with. And if thoſe florid Members that ſtand up for the Liberties of the People, do it for the ſake of a Penſion, he paſſes a very odd Compliment on His Majeſty, by inſinuating as much, as when they are ſick of the Money-Diſtemper, there is a certain Court Elixir which has been infallible in the Cure of 'em.

Who ſhall this Bubbl'd Nation diſabuſe,
While they their own Felicities refuſe?
Who at the Wars have made ſuch mighty Pother,
And now are falling out with one another:
[6]With needleſs Fears the Jealous Nation fill,
And always have been ſav'd againſt their Will:
Who Fifty Millions Sterling have disburs'd,
To be with Peace and too much Plenty curs'd,
Who their Old Monarch eagerly undo,
And yet uneaſily obey the New.
Search, Satyr, ſearch, a deep Inciſion make;
The Poiſon's ſtrong, the Antidote's too weak.
'Tis pointed Truth muſt manage this Diſpute,
And down-right Engliſh Engliſhmen confute.

If the Nation's Bubbled, it's well for the Gameſters at t'other end of the Town; but I am a better Subject than to think ſo. I hear of no Members that refuſe their own Felicities, but are againſt giving away their Birth-right to Strangers. And how we come to be ſav'd againſt our will, it's impoſſible for me to conjecture, when if we had not forwarded our own Salvations, Matters would ſcarce have been as they now ſtand, and our New Monarch had not had the Gift of our Obedience, had not we eagerly undone our Old, which is far from being an Act that is involuntary. But our Author is as good at Senſe, as he is at Chirurgery, when he's for making Inciſions inſtead of giving proper Antidotes to repel Poiſon.

Whet thy juſt Anger at the Nation's Pride;
And with keen Phraſe repel the Vicious Tide.
To Engliſhmen their own beginnings ſhow,
And ask them why they ſlight their Neighbours ſo,
Go back to Elder Times, and Ages paſt,
And Nations into long Oblivion caſt;
To Old Britannia's Youthful Days retire,
And there for True-Born Engliſhmen enquire.
[7] Britannia freely will diſown the Name,
And hardly knows her ſelf from whence they came:
Wonders that They of all Men ſhou'd pretend
To Birth and Blood, and for a Name contend.
Go back to Cauſes where our Follies dwell,
And fetch the dark Original from Hell:
Speak, Satyr, for there's none like thee can tell.

Our Author's Keen Phraſe is made ill uſe of in this Place, and the queſtion about ſlighting our Neighbours very improper. Becauſe we don't think any of 'em worthy of the Pr—pal—ty of Wales, is that any injury to 'em? Or that we repine at the Gift of a Blew—G— when our own Noblemen go without it, does that bear the Face of a Slight. The common Principle of Nature perſuades us to conſult our own good firſt, and he gives a ſmall increaſe to the Nobility of the D—ch by depretiating the Original of the Engliſh, who though they have underwent the common Fate of other Conquer'd Countries, have no Lords among 'em that were Oil-men, or States-men with Coronets on their Coaches, that yeſterday ſhoulder'd a Bunch of Turnips from the Market.

THE True-Born Engliſhman, Anſwered, &c. PART I.

[8]
WHere-ever God erects a Houſe of Prayer,
The Devil always builds a Chappel there:
And 'twill be found upon Examination,
The latter has the largeſt Congregation:
For ever ſince be firſt debauch'd the Mind,
He made a perfect Conqueſt of Mankind.
With Ʋniformity of Service, he
Reigns with a general Ariſtocracy.
No Nonconforming Sects diſturb his Reign,
For of his Yoak there's very few complain.
He knows the Genius and the Inclination,
And matches proper Sins for ev'ry Nation.
He needs no Standing-Army Government;
He always rules us by our own Conſent:
His Laws are eaſy, and his gentle Sway
Makes it exceeding pleaſant to obey.
The Liſt of his Vicegerents and Commanders,
Outdoes your Caeſars, or your Alexanders.
They never fail of his Infernal Aid,
And he's as certain ne'er to be betray'd.
Thro' all the World they ſpread his vaſt Command,
And Death's Eternal Empire's maintain'd.
They rule ſo politickly and ſo well,
As if they were L— J—of Hell.
Duly divided to debauch Mankind,
And plant Infernal Dictates in his Mind.

[9]To begin with an Engliſh Proverb, looks very much as if our Author was no great Doctor at Engliſh Poetry; and though T— ſmells very much of a Church with a Chimney in it, ſome Roguiſh ſort of Wags will be apt to ſay, he is one of thoſe that plies at the Devil's Chappel. I don't mean the Suppoſititious one, which he would have the Church of England go by the Name of, from its Ʋniformity of Service, but Calves Head Aſſemblies, where Nonconformiſts meet together, on the 30th of January, to give Glory to God for his Permiſſion, in ſuffering the beſt of Kings to be murder'd by his Subjects that Day before his own Palace Gates.

Pride, the Firſt Peer, and Preſident of Hell,
To his ſhare Spain, that largeſt Province, fell.
The ſubtile Prince thought fitteſt to beſtow
On theſe the Golden Mines of Mexico;
With all the Silver Mountains of Peru;
Wealth which would, in wiſe hands, the World undo:
Becauſe he knew their Genius was ſuch;
Too Lazy and too Haughty to be Rich.
So proud a People, ſo above their Fate,
That if reduc'd to beg, they'll beg in State.
Laviſh of Money, to be counted Brave,
And Proudly ſtarve, becauſe they ſcorn to ſave.
Never was Nation in the World before,
So very Rich, and yet ſo very Poor.

If Pride had Spain for her Province, Ireland, it's certain who had its Inhabitants from thence came in for a ſhare of it Governeſs's Favours, and there muſt needs be a ſmack of it in the Poet's Conſtitution who (as I have been told was a [10] Prieſt of that Nation. But how 'tis a Wiſe thing to undo the World, I can't imagine, unleſs Miſchief is an inſtance of Policy, and Barbarity a great Token of Wiſdom. That's certain if his Doctrine be true, the World's in as fair a way to be undone, as a Wicked Man can wiſh, if the Gold of Peru being in Wiſe hands (viz.) French Refiners, can make it ſo.

Luſt choſe the Torrid Zone of Italy,
Where Blood ferments in Rapes and Sodomy:
Where ſwelling Veins o'erflow with living Streams,
With Heat impregnate from Veſuvian Flames:
Whoſe flowing Sulphur forms Infernal Lakes,
And human Body of the Soil partakes.
There Nature ever burns with hot Deſires,
Fann'd with Luxuriant Air from Subterranean Fires:
Here undiſturb'd in Floods of ſcalding Luſt,
Th' Infernal King reigns with Infernal Guſt.

Italy is indeed a hot Country, but ſome degrees cooler than the Weſt-Indies, which are beyond the Line, and plac'd under the Torrid Zone. Had the Poet amongſt his other Enquiries conſulted the Celeſtial Globe, he would have ſaid otherwiſe: but it may be a miſtake, and probably he deſign'd the Satyr upon Jamaica or Barbardo's, which had been proper enough, becauſe ſo many Letcherous Whores and Rogues, have made choice of thoſe Places to reſide in. I have heard likewiſe, that Air has blown up and kindled a Fire, but never was inform'd before, that it was the Effect of Fire, ſince I am rather apt to believe it is the Cauſe.

[11]
Drunk'neſs, the Darling Favourite of Hell,
Choſe Germany to rule; and rules ſo well,
No Subjects more obſequiouſly obey,
None pleaſe ſo well, or are ſo pleas'd as they.
The cunning Artiſt manages ſo well,
He lets them Bow to Heav'n, and Drink to Hell;
If but to Wine and him they Homage pay,
He cares not to what Deity they Pray;
What God they Worſhip moſt, or in what way.
Whether by Luther, Calvin or by Rome,
They ſail for Heav'n, by Wine he ſteers them home.

I perceive now that the Spark has read Heylin's Coſmography, and taken the Character of Germany on truſt from him. But he cannot aſſign the ſame Reaſons for their Drunkenneſs, as he does for the Italians Luſt, ſince 'tis certain theſe Men Intemperance, are no more influenc'd by the Temperate Zone, which the greateſt part of it lies directly under, than thoſe Children of Luſt are affected by the Torrid. But if none pleaſe the Devil ſo well as they, how comes he in his Virulent Expreſſions againſt the Engliſh, to ſay, they are his Chief Favourites. Contradiction is a Talent peculiar to himſelf, and evil ſpeaking altogether his own; elſe he would not make 'em Sail for Heav'n, with old Nick at the Helm, plying at the Steerage, or make the Devil bring 'em all into Hell, notwithſtanding their Attempts to gain Heav'n, by following the Doctrines of Luther, Calvin, or Rome. An inſtance of our Author's Thoughts of the weakneſs of Pray'r, and the inefficacy of any ſort of Devotion whatſoever.

[12]
Ʋrgovern'd Paſſion ſettled in France,
Where Mankind lives in haſte, and thrives by Chance.
A Dancing Nation, Fickle and Ʋntrue:
Have oft undone themſelves, and others too:
Prompt the Infernal Dictates to obey,
And in Hell's Favour none more great than they.

Juſt before none pleas'd the Devil ſo well as the Germans, but now the Scene's alter'd to France, and none are more great in his Favour than the People of that Nation. How to reconcile the Superiority of 'em Both, to Sence, I know not, no more than I do the Character he gives the French Men of thriving by Chance, when their Induſtry is ſo well known, as to make their Miſfortunes the Effect of Chance, not the Succeſs which generally attends their Endeavours in matters of Trade.

The Pagan World be blindly leads away,
And Perſonally rules with Arbitrary Sway:
The Mask thrown Off, Plain Devil his Title ſtands;
And what elſewhere he Tempts, he there Commands.
There with full Guſt th' Ambition of his Mind
Governs, as he of old in Heav'n deſign'd.
Worſhipp'd as God, his Painim Altars ſmoke,
Embru'd with Blood of thoſe that him Invoke.

One might have thought after he had ſurrendred the greateſt part of Chriſtendom into Satan's Hands; he would have had ſome Compaſſion on his Brother Infidels. But however it happens he falls foul upon them too, as an Enemy of Mankind in general, and either believing the Turks to be true Chriſtians, or numbring them [13] with Cannibals, commits an Error in making them who are part of the Pagan World, worſhip the Devil as God, and offer Humane Sacrifice, at his Altars, which is a ſort of Ceremony not us'd in the Eaſtern Countries, who notwithſtanding our Author's boaſts of an upright Life, making leſs Application to the Devil than his Worſhip, who ſeems to have a great intereſt with him.

The reſt by Deputies he rules as well,
And plants the diſtant Colonies of Hell.
By them his ſecret Power he maintains,
And binds the World in his Infernal Chains.

That may be; but I am apt to think, that He that made the World has the Government of it, notwithſtanding Satan's Deputy-Lieutenants. And one would think from his planting the diſtant Colonies of Hell, he was ſettling Plantations beyond the South Seas, or had taken poſſeſſion of ſome Countries beyond the Moguls, after he had given him the Dominion of all Paganiſm; but he ſeldom adviſes with his Maps, as will be ſeen by the Country which comes next in Play.

By Zeal the Iriſh; and the Ruſh by Folly:
Fury the Dane: The Swede by Melancholly:
By ſtupid Ignorance, the Muſcovite:
The Chineſe by a Child of Hell, call'd Wit:
Wealth makes the Perſian too Effeminate:
And Poverty the Tartars Deſperate:
The Turks and Moors by Mah'met he ſubdues:
And God has giv'n him leave to rule the Jews:
Rage rules the Portugueſe; and Fraud the Scotch:
Revenge the Pole; and Avarice the Dutch.

[14]By my Shoul, Dear Joy is much in the right, to give his own Country the Poſt of Honour: Ireland has Zeal for her Lord Deputy, forſooth, when Ignorance had been more proper for it, as being that which is moſt predominant there. And the Swedes are Tyrannically dealt with, by the Hypochondria; a Character no Perſon that knows their way of living can juſtly give 'em. If Wit be a Child of Hell, our Author is certainly a Child of Heaven; if thoſe who have no manner of Dealings with it deſerve that Name. But what is chiefly obſervable in this Paragraph, is, that the Dane and Portugueſe are ſo much of the ſame Complexion, that Fury rules one, and Rage the other; which in my poor ſentiments, is, they have the ſame Conſtitution of Mind: A miraculous thing, for certain, that two Nations ſhould ſo ſympathize, when the laſt is ſo near the Sun, and then firſt ſo far from it.

Satyr be kind and draw a ſilent Veil,
Thy Native England's Vices to conceal:
Or if that Task's impoſſible to do,
At leaſt be juſt, and ſhow her Vertues too;
Too Great the firſt, Alas! the laſt too Few.

Upon my Conſcience he need not requeſt his Satyr to be kind, it's inoffenſive enough in every thing but Impudence: But he knows his own Temper beſt, and doubts, that 'tis impoſſible for him to treat a Country with any manner of Humanity that has uſed him better than he deſerv'd, though he makes a ſhew of expoſing her Virtues to balance her Faults, but has not the heart to do it.

[15]
England, unknown as yet, unpeopled lay;
Happy, had ſhe remain'd ſo to this day,
And not to ev'ry Nation been a Prey.
Her Open Harbours, and her fertile Plains,
The Merchants Glory theſe, and thoſe the Swains,
To ev'ry Barbarous Nation have betray'd her,
Who conquer her as oft as they Invade her.
So Beauty guarded but by Innocence,
That ruins her which ſhould be her Defence.

For my part, I can't find where the Happineſs of England had been to have lain unpeopled, when without doubt it was deſign'd at the Creation for Inhabitants, as well as the reſt of the World; neither can I imagine that Perſon has any great skill in Hiſtory, who affirms, that every Barbarous Nation, that attempted to invade Her, gain'd their Ends, and were Conquerors; even Rome her ſelf, the Empreſs of the reſt of the World, acknowledged repulſes from Her, and Julius Caeſar's conquering Arms found a ſtop to 'em, for a time, by the Valour of Her Natives.

Ingratitude, a Devil of Black Renown,
Poſſeſs'd her very early for his own.
An Ʋgly, Surly, Sullen, Selfiſh Spirit,
Who Satan's worſt Perfections does inherit:
Second to him in Malice and in Force,
All Devil without, and all within him Worſe.

If Ingratitude be one of the Ingredients which make up an Engliſhman, the Poet has a Title to be called one of the Blood, for treating him after ſuch an infamous manner: But it's a Myſtery to me, how this Devil of Black Renown, could be [16] Second to Satan in Malice and in Force, when he was preferable to his Sovereign Lord by being much worſe than Him, which in Hell is a mark of precedence.

He made her Firſt-born Race to be ſo rude,
And ſuffer'd her to be ſo oft ſubdu'd:
By ſeveral Crowds of Wandring Thieves o'er-run,
Often unpeopl'd, and as oft undone.
While ev'ry Nation that her Pow'rs reduc'd,
Their Languages and Manners introduc'd.
From whoſe mix'd Relicks our compounded Breed,
By Spurious Generation does ſucceed;
Making a Race uncertain and unev'n,
Deriv [...]d from all the Nations under Heav'n.

Very good, Devil-Ingratitude had an excellent hand at Temptation, if he could perſwade the Firſt-born to be ungrateful before they had any Benefactors. I always took it for granted, that an ill requital of kind Offices fell under that Name, and no Perſon could be unthankful for a Courteſie before it was receiv'd. But this Paragraph affords the Reader great choice of Obſervations: I ſhall only remark on as oft unpeopled, and as oft undone, and deſire 'em to conſider how that agrees with part of a foregoing Paragraph, that actually ſays, the Land had been happy had it remain'd unpeopled to this very day.

The Romans firſt with Julius Caeſar came,
Including all the Nations of that Name,
Gauls, Greeks, and Lombards; and by Computation,
Auxiliaries or Slaves of ev'ry Nation.
With Hengiſt, Saxons; Danes, with Sueno came,
In ſearch of Plunder, not in ſearch of Fame.
[17] Scots, Picts, and Iriſh from th' Hibernian Shore:
And Conqu'ring William brought the Normans o'er.

The Romans, Danes, and Saxons, that's certain, Conquer'd us, but the ſame may be ſaid of each of thoſe Countries, the Goths and Vandals, having broke in upon the firſt in ſuch a manner, as to deſtroy their very Language, and the other two fall'n under the Fate of Vanquiſh'd Kingdoms. So that we have no great reaſon to undervalue our ſelves on the account of Conqueſt, when ſcarce a Nation in all Chriſtendom has not had Revolutions of the ſame Nature. But what is the greateſt, and moſt ſcandalous Reflection, he numbers the Iriſh amongſt our Conquerours, when it's well known that Kingdom is now dependent on the Engliſh Crown by the Right of Conqueſt, and that they been have ever ſince their Settlement ſuch an inconſiderable People, as our Kings did not think worth while for a long time to reduce 'em to their preſent Obedience.

All theſe their Barb'rous Off-ſpring left behind,
The Dregs of Armies, they of all Mankind;
Blended with Britains who before were here,
Of whom the Welſh ha' bleſt the Character.

In the Nonage of Time there was not that diſtincton made betwixt Man and Man, as there is now; and when Armies were undiſciplin'd, they had no ſwelling Titles to diſtinguiſh one Fellow Creature from another; neither is it probable that a Country ſo inviting as he owns this to be, ſhould have only the Dregs of Armes for its Poſſeſſors.

[18]
From this Amphibious Ill-born Mob began
That vain ill-natur'd thing, an Engliſhman.
The Cuſtoms, Sirnames, Languages, and Manners,
Of all theſe Nations are their own Explainers:
Whoſe Relicks are ſo laſting and ſo ſtrong,
They ha' left a Shiboleth upon our Tongue;
By which with eaſy ſearch you may diſtinguiſh
Your Roman-Saxon-Daniſh-Norman Engliſh.

The Epithet of Amphibious to People who live in an Iſland, when the Sea is its defence is not ſo ſcandalous as he deſign'd it, though the Title he gives our Anceſtors of an Ill-born Mob ſounds very hard. I believe he's ſo little Converſant in Heraldry as to know nothing of their Originals, neither, while there was a ſort of equality among Men, has he any juſt excuſe for leſſening the Pedegree of thoſe Forefathers, from whence we ſprung. As for his finding fault with the Cadence of our Language, I have heard from ſeveral hands he has been dabbling at an alteration of it ſeveral times to no effect, and I'll defie him to tell me of any modern Tongue which is not made up of a Compound of others, as well as ours, which has riſen from the ſame Cauſe.

The great Invading * Norman let us know
What Conquerors in After-Times might do.
To ev'ry Muſqueteer he brought to Town,
He gave the Lands which never were his own.
When firſt the Engliſh Crown he did obtain,
He did not ſend his Dutchmen home again.
[19]No Reaſſumptions in his Reign were known.
D'avenant might there ha' let his Book alone.
No Parliament his Army cou'd disband;
He rais'd no Money, for he paid in Land.
He gave his Legions their Eternal Station,
And made them all Freeholders of the Nation.
He canton'd out the Country to his Men,
And ev'ry Soldier was a Denizen.
The Raſcals thus enrich'd, he call'd them Lords,
To pleaſe their Ʋpſtart Pride with new-made Words;
And Doomſday-Book his Tyranny records.

What Paralel is there between the Caſe of William the Conqueror, and that of our late Revolution? In his days King Harold gave him Battle, and oppos'd Force to Force, which occaſion'd a Conqueſt; but in our Times, His preſent Majeſty was receiv'd by the Conſent of the People, invited over by the Nobility and Gentry, and Eſtabliſh'd in a Throne: The whole Power of Holland could not have plac'd him in without our own Concurrence. Therefore as Matters were different between the Conquerour and him, it was but reaſonable that thoſe who had made him King, ſhould ſend away the Troops that came to our Aſſiſtance, ſince we had not folly enough to think they would have came to reſcue us without aſſurance of being paid, nor Eſtates enough to ſpare to make a Gentleman of every Foot Soldier. Six hundred thouſand pound was a greater reward to the States, than Queen Elizabeth had for ſaving 'em when they wrote themſelves, DISTRESS'D; and he might have ſpar'd the Story, which was more to ſhew King William might have done the ſame, than to diſgrace the Original of our Nobility, though [20] what follows ſhews that alſo was intended by it.

And here begins the Ancient Pedigree,
That ſo exalts our Poor Nobility:
'Tis that from ſome French Trooper they derive,
Who with the Norman Baſtard did arrive:
The Trophies of the Families appear;
Some ſhow the Sword, the Bow, and ſome the Spear,
Which their Great Anceſtor, forſooth, did wear.
Theſe in the Heralds Regiſter remain,
Their Noble Mean Extraction to explain.
Yet who the Hero was, no Man can tell,
Whether a Drummer or a Colonel:
The ſilence Record bluſhes to reveal
Their Ʋndeſcended Dark Original.

As Kings are the Fountains from whence Honours are deriv'd, ſo William the Conqueror had as much Right to beſtow Titles on his Subjects, as another Prince has on his; and if the Poet was to ſearch into ſome Foreign Noblemens Families, he has ſuch an Eſteem for becauſe they are not Engliſh, it would be a good while before he could find either Sword, or Bow, or Spear, for their Creſt. But he's a Leveller, and though he flatters King William, is but for making one Eſtate of the Three the Nation is compos'd of, and reducing the People under the Government of the People, as in the Year 48.

But grant the beſt, How came the Change to paſs,
A True-Born Engliſhman of Norman Race?
A Turkiſh Horſe can ſhow more Hiſtory,
To prove his Well-deſcended Family.
[21] Conqueſt, as by the * Moderns 'tis expreſt,
May give a Title to the Lands poſſeſt:
But that the Longeſt Sword ſhou'd be ſo Civil,
To make a Frenchman Engliſh, that's the Devil.

To Anſwer that Queſtion, it is not the Blood makes an Engliſhman, but the Climate; and it's allow'd by the Civil Law, that whatſoever Kingdom a Perſon is born in, though of Foreign Parents, he is actually at the time of his Birth a Denizon of it.

Theſe are the Heroes that deſpiſe the Dutch,
And rail at new-come Foreigners ſo much;
Forgetting that themſelves are all deriv'd
From the moſt Scoundrel Race that ever liv'd.
A horrid Medly of Thieves and Drones,
Who ranſack'd Kingdoms, and diſpeopl'd Towns.
The Pict and Painted Britain, Treach'rous Scot,
By Hunger, Theft, and Rapine, hither brought.
Norwegian Pirates, Buccaneering Danes,
Whoſe Red-hair'd Offspring ev'ry where remains.
Who joyn'd with Norman-French, compound the Breed
From whence your True-born Engliſhmen proceed.

We have no averſion for 'em, as they are Dutchmen, but as they are poſſeſſed of Places of Truſt the Natives of the ſame Country might reaſonably expect to have. And whatever our Primitive Original was, the Blood which gave us Being, having iſſued through ſo many Channels, might in length of time purge it ſelf off; and 'tis known by experience, the moſt unclean things imaginable, thrown into a running ſtream, leave no infection behind them; which makes [22] againſt him, if he allows the Circulation of the Blood, which I believe, notwithſtanding all his Equivocations, he cannot deny.

And leſt by Length of Time it be pretended,
The Climate may this Modern Breed ha' mended,
Wiſe Providence, to keep us where we are,
Mixes us daily with exceeding Care:
We have been Europe's Sink, the Jakes where ſhe
Voids all her Offal Out-caſt Progeny.
From our Fifth Henry's time, the Strolling Bands
Of baniſh'd Fugitives from Neighb'ring Lands,
Have here a certain Sanctuary found:
The Eternal Refuge of the Vagabond.
Wherein but half a common Age of Time,
Borr'wing new Blood and Manners from the Clime,
Proudly they learn all Mankind to Contemn,
And all their Race are True-Born Engliſhmen.

Here he ſeems to be apprehenſive of the Argument that was made uſe of againſt his laſt; and to fence it off guards himſelf with a known untruth. Henry the Fifth, a Prince of the greateſt Honour imaginable, after his Acceſſion to the Throne, is made to countenance Vagabonds and baniſh'd Fugitives, when there are many inſtances to the contrary, if he will take the trouble upon him to read his Life. But were it actually as he would have it, it was always reckon'd no ſmall Reputation for a Kingdom to be a Sanctuary to the Diſtreſſed, and a Refuge to poor People, who poſſibly might have other reaſons for flying from the Land of their Nativity, than the Crimes he ſeems to charge 'em with.

[23]
Dutch, Walloons, Flemings, Iriſhmen, and Scots,
Vaudois, and Valtolins, and Hugonots,
In good Queen Beſs's Charitable Reign,
Supply'd us with Three hundred thouſand Men.
Religion, God we thank thee, ſent them hither,
Prieſts, Proteſtants, the Devil and all together:
Of all Profeſſions, and of ev'ry Trade,
All that were perſecuted or afraid;
Whether for Debt or other Crimes they fled,
David at Hackelah was ſtill their Head.

This Paragraph being much of the ſame nature with the former, and written to reproach the Memory of the beſt of Queens, after he had too haſtily ſhot his Bolt againſt the moſt Glorious of our Kings, I ſhall jump over the repeated Crambe he tires the Reader with, to take notice of his expreſſion, God we thank thee: Full of as much Impiety as could come from an Atheiſt's Mouth, and one who denies all manner of reveal'd Religion. He could have utter'd forth no worſe complaints againſt the Goodneſs of that infinite Being, had he ſaid, God you are only to be blam'd for putting ſuch Whims in the Fools, as the Notions of Religion, and inſtilling into their empty Skulls the Fears of offending an incenſed Deity, which has forced them to quit their own Country, and lie a Rent-charge on our Hands. Which is downright Blaſphemy, or nothing can deſerve that Name.

The Offspring of this Miſcellaneous Crowd,
Had not their new Plantations long enjoy'd,
But they grew Engliſhmen, and rais'd their Votes
At Foreign Shoals of Interloping Scots.
[24]The * Royal Branch from Pict-land did ſucceed,
With Troops of Scots and Scabs from North-by-Tweed.
The Seven firſt Years of his Pacifick Reign,
Made him and half his Nation Engliſhmen.
Scots from the Northern Frozen Banks of Tay,
With Packs and Plods came Whigging all away:
Thick as the Locuſts which in Aegypt ſwarm'd,
With Pride and hungry Hopes compleatly arm'd:
With Native Truth, Diſeaſes, and No Money,
Plunder'd our Canaan of the Milk and Honey.
Here they grew quickly Lords and Gentlemen,
And all their Race are True-Born-Engliſhmen.

And what could hinder them from deſerving the Name, if they were born in England? Since they were obliged to perform all the Offices of true-born Engliſhmen, where is the hurt to give them the Title of ſuch? K. James the II. was an excellent Prince, and his Subjects were truly happy under his Reign, which he by way of ridicule calls Pacifick. And we cannot deny but ſeveral Families of Scots came with him into England; but it's worth his Obſervation to take notice, that his chiefeſt Favourite was an Engliſhman, notwithſtanding his Affection to his own Nation.

The Civil Wars, the common Purgative,
Which always uſe to make the Nation thrive,
Made way for all that ſtrolling Congregation,
Which throng'd in * Pious Ch---s's Reſtauration.
The Royal Refugee our Breed reſtores,
With Foreign Courtiers, and with Foreign Whores:
And carefully repeopled us again,
Throught his Lazy, Long, Laſcivious Reign,
[25]With ſuch a bleſt and True-born Engliſh Fry,
As much illuſtrates our Nobility.
A Gratitude which will ſo black appear,
As future Ages muſt abhor to hear:
When they look back on all that Crimſon Flood,
Which ſtream'd in Lindſey's and Caernarvon's Blood:
Bold Strafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Liſle,
Who crown'd in Death his Father's Fun'ral Pile.
The Loſs of whom, in order to ſupply
With True-Born Engliſh Nobility,
Six Baſtard Dukes ſurvive his Luſcious Reign,
The Labours of Italian C------n,
French P------h, Tabby S----t, and Cambrian.
Beſides the Num'rous Bright and Virgin Throng,
Whoſe Female Glories ſhade them from my Song.

It's but an odd ſort of an Obſervation, that Countries thrive by Civil Wars, ſince it is evident that where the Seat of a War is, the Trade of that People is at a ſtand; and had not that injur'd Prince, whom he, for want of due reſpect to his Memory, brands with the Name of a Refugee been forc'd by Rebellious Subjects from the Land of his Inheritance, he would have had no Obligations to return to Foreign Courts. But a Party, which our Author glories in being a Member of, having been the occaſion of his Exile, we may thank them, if he was withdrawn from a due Exerciſe of thoſe admirable Parts he was the happy Maſter of; and when he was Poſſeſſor of a Genius the fitteſt that could be for buſineſs, that he gave himſelf up too much to his Pleaſures. The ſame reaſon that perſwaded him to a due reſpect of His late Majeſty's Natural Daughters, might have with held him from abuſing his Princely Sons, ſome of which have been [26] and are a Pattern of true behaviour to the Engliſh Court: But where Manners are not, they cannot be expected.

This Offspring, if one Age they multiply,
May half the Houſe with Engliſh Peers ſupply:
There with true Engliſh Pride they may contemn
S------g and P-----d, new-made Noblemen.

If we had no worſe ſort of Gentlemen amongſt our Engliſh Nobility, we need not care how many we had of the Breed; no diſparagement to S------g and P------d, his new made Noblemen.

French Cooks, Scotch Pedlars, and Italian Whores,
Were all made Lords, or Lords Progenitors.
Beggars and Baſtards by his new Creation,
Much multiply'd the Peerage of the Nation;
Who will be all, e'er one ſhort Age runs o'er,
As True-Born Lords as thoſe we had before.

Theſe ſix Lines ſhould have been explain'd, if he would have any Body know the meaning of them: For I am well aſſured no French Cooks, or Scotch Pedlars were ever made Noblemen in the King's Reign, whoſe Aſhes he diſturbs ſo baſely. And for the Italian Whores he makes mention of, they might poſſibly have been made Ladies; though I never heard the Dutcheſs of Mazarine had any Engliſh Title conferr'd on her: But if he is not abandon'd to the want of Senſe, as well as good Manners, he muſt agree with me, their Sex would not permit them to be made Lords.

Then to recruit the Commons he prepares,
And heal the latent Breaches of the Wars:
[27]The Pious Purpoſe better to advance,
H' invites the baniſh'd Proteſtants of France:
Hither for God's ſake and their own they fled,
Some for Religion came, and ſome for Bread:
Two hundred thouſand Pair of Wooden Shooes,
Who, God be thank'd, had nothing left to loſe;
To Heav'n's great Praiſe did for Religion fly,
To make us ſtarve our Poor in Charity.
In ev'ry Port they plant their fruitful Train,
To get a Race of True-Born Engliſhmen:
Whoſe Children will, when riper Years they ſee,
Be as Ill-natur'd and as Proud as we:
Call themſelves Engliſh, Foreigners deſpiſe,
Be ſurly like us all, and juſt as wiſe.

Had our Author any ſenſe of Shame or Chriſtianity in him, he would never blame a Prince for an Action, that has rendred his Name Famous in all the Courts of Europe. When the Profeſſors of Chriſt's Holy Goſpel were expell'd from the Place of their Nativity, he receiv'd them—Omnium egenos, Ʋrbe, domo Daeos: And more than imitated the Queen of Carthage's Noble Saying of Non ignora mali miſeris ſuccurrere diſco. He had been hoſpitably dealt with himſelf, by the ſame People, whoſe Prince's perſecuting Genius flung them upon his Protection; and if there had been Two Millions, inſtead of Two Hundred Thouſand, his Name ought to be had in Everlaſting Remembrance; ſince to Feed the Hungry, and Cloth the Naked, is ſo far from the Tranſgreſſion of a Duty, that it is an actual Performance of our Saviour's Command.

[28]
Thus from a Mixture of all Kinds began,
That Het'rogeneous Thing, An Engliſhman:
In eager Rapes, and furious Luſt begot,
Betwixt a Painted Britain and a Scot:
Whoſe gend'ring Off-ſpring quickly learnt to bow,
And yoke their Heifers to the Roman Plough:
From whence a Mongrel half-bred Race there came,
With neither Name nor Nation, Speech or Fame.
Infus'd betwixt a Saxon and a Dane.
While their Rank Daughters, to their Parents juſt,
Receiv'd all Nations with Promiſcuous Luſt.
This Nauſeous Brood directly did contain
The well-extracted Blood of Engliſhmen.

The word thus, ſeems to intimate we Engliſhmen had our Original from the French Refugees, who have been admitted into the Kingdom theſe laſt thirty Years, for no Perſecution began in Charles the Second's Reign before. But the Poet being not very good at Connexion, and unſatisfy'd with abuſing us in the ſame Nature before, falls again into the very ſame malicious Account of our Primitive Riſe, on purpoſe to whet our Memory, and ſtamp impreſſions on it of his great Civilities, that we might think of ſuitable returns.

Which Medly canton'd in a Heptarchy,
A Rhapſody of Nations to ſupply,
Among themſelves maintain'd eternal Wars,
And ſtill the Ladies lov'd the Conquerors.

It ſeems there were Ladies in the time of the Heptarchy, though he allows of no ſuch things as Lords before William the Conqueror; but though [29] he ſeems to have a reſpect for the Fair Sex by the Title he gives 'em, he deſerves to loſe much of their eſteem (if he ever had any of it) for the Character he gave the Women in thoſe Times of being Mercenary, and in Love with the ſtrongeſt ſide.

The Weſtern-Angles all the reſt ſubdu'd;
A bloody Nation, barbarous and rude:
Who by the Tenure of the Sword poſſeſt
One part of Britain, and ſubdu'd the reſt.
And as great things denominate the ſmall,
The Conqu'ring Part gave Title to the Whole.
The Scot, Pict, Britain, Dane ſubmit,
And with the Engliſh-Saxon all unite:
And theſe the Mixture have ſo cloſe purſu'd,
The very Name and Memory's ſubdu'd:
No Roman now, no Britain does remain;
Wales ſtrove to ſeparate, but ſtrove in vain:
The ſilent Nations undiſtinguſh'd fall,
And Engliſhman's the common Name for all.
Fate jumbl'd them together, God knows how;
Whate'er they were, they're True-Born Engliſh now.

We have had as much before, in good honeſt Proſe, which has more Beauties in it than his lamentable Verſe, that the Weſtern-Angles Conquer'd the reſt; but the Parts which were Conquer'd, as the Eaſt-Angles, &c. help'd to give the whole Country the Name of England, as well as that which had ſubdued 'em. Which ſhews the Poet lies under a miſtake, and is guilty of ſome eſcapes in matters of Hiſtory. But what deſerves our notice more particularly, is his making the Conquerors who were Inhabitants of the Weſtern Parts, Bloudy, Barbarous, [30] and Rude, when 'tis apparent in our Chronicles thoſe of the North were the moſt Cruel, on purpoſe to taint the Nation in general, which had ſubmitted to the Conqueſt of thoſe Inhumane People, with the ſaid Vices.

The Wonder which remains is at our Pride,
To value that which all wiſe Men deride.
For Engliſhmen to boaſt of Generation,
Cancels their Knowledge, and lampoons the Nation.
A True-Born Engliſhman's a Contradiction,
In Speech an Irony, in Fact a Fiction.
A Banter made to be a Teſt of Fools,
Which thoſe that uſe it juſtly ridicules.
A Metaphor invented to expreſs
A Man a-kin to all the Ʋniverſe.

Pride was wholly attributed to the Spaniards ſometime before, but now 'tis the property of the Engliſh. Either his Memory is very treacherous, or he has been ſo laviſh of the Vices he has charg'd us with, that he is forc'd to have recourſe to thoſe he has flung upon others, becauſe of the lowneſs of his Stock. And if we are a-kin to all the Ʋniverſe, we have a multitude of Noble Relations for certain, which renders us above the common dregs of all Mankind, without any manner of Queſtion.

For as the Scots, as Learned Men ha' ſaid,
Throughout the World their Wandring Seed ha' ſpread;
So open-handed England, 'tis believ'd,
Has all the Gleaning of the World receiv'd.

The Travelling of the Scots, is an Argument of their enquiries after Knowledge, a Vertue for [31] which they are unreproachable; therefore our Author does very ill to make uſe of Cleaveland's Word (Wandring) unleſs he had been gifted with Cleaveland's Wit: But how he can prove that England has receiv'd all the Gleanings of the World, unleſs he can make appear we had any Forefathers from Japan and China, I can't imagine.

Some think of England 'twas our Saviour meant,
The Goſpel ſhould to all the World be ſent:
Since when the bleſſed Sound did hither reach,
They to all Nations might be ſaid to Preach.

Though he pretends to make out our Original, he's more than Preſumptious to explain our Saviour's Doctine after that manner. I am apt to think, thoſe are no ones Sentiments but his own; and notwithſtanding the dangerous Opinion he has of no ſuch Perſon in the Bleſſed Trinity, no Man that has the Name of a Chriſtian, but will conclude that Chriſt's Predictions will be fullfill'd, without any ſuch mean Evaſion as he impiouſly lays hold on.

'Tis well that Vertue gives Nobility,
Elſe God knows where we had our Gentry;
Since ſcarce one Family is left alive,
Which does not from ſome Foreigner derive.
Of Sixty thouſand Engliſh Gentlemen,
Whoſe Names and Arms in Regiſters remain,
We challenge all our Heralds to declare
Ten Families which Engliſh-Saxons are.

'Tis well (to uſe his own words) he will acknowledge any ſuch thing as Vertue to be amongſt [32] us. It's a Condeſcenſion he has not before been guilty of; and if we have Sixty Thouſand Engliſh Gentlemen, it's no Matter whether they are deriv'd from the Saxons or no, ſince we had People that have Conquer'd us of as great Antiquity as them.

France juſtly boaſts the Ancient Noble Line
Of Bourbon, Mommorency, and Lorrain.
The Germans too the Houſe of Auſtria ſhow,
And Holland their Invincible Naſſau.
Lines which in Heraldry were Ancient grown,
Before the Name of Engliſhman was known.
Even Scotland too her Elder Glory ſhows,
Her Gourdons, Hamiltons, and her Monroes;
Dowglas, Mackays, and Grahams, Names well known,
Long before Ancient England knew her own.

France, and both the Germany's, High and Low, have chang'd their Maſters as often as us; and though they have great ſwelling Names, ſome of our Families may be no more obſcure than theirs, ſince we have the ſame Reaſons to boaſt of their Antiquity. And our Poetaſter had paid ne'er the leſs Difference to the Invincible Naſſau, had he plac'd his Grand-Fathers Family (viz. that of the Stewarts) which is the moſt Ancient in Scotland, before that of Monroe, which I never heard was Famous for any Member of it, but one Mr. Monroe, who is a celebrated Tobaconiſt.

But England, Modern to the laſt degree,
Borrows or makes her own Nobility
And yet ſhe boldly boaſts of Pedigree:
[33]Repines that Foreigners are put upon her,
And talks of her Antiquity and Honour:
Her S—lls, S—ls, C—ls, De— M—rs,
M—ns and M—ues, D—s and V—rs,
Not one have Engliſh Names, yet all are Engliſh
Your H—ns, P—llons, and L—liers,
Paſs now for True-Born Engliſh Knights and Squires, Peers.
And make good Senate-Members, or Lord-Mayors.
Wealth, howſoever got, in England makes
Lords of Mechanicks, Gentlemen of Rakes.
Antiquity and Birth are needleſs here;
'Tis Impudence and Money makes a P—r.

The Names may be French, on Account of the Norman Invaſion; but it's the Title that makes the Nobleman, which cannot be ſaid to be borrow'd. If the Kings of England could not make their own Peers, they would have leſs Prerogative than the meaneſt Soveraign Princes, who have a Right to multiply the number of 'em as they pleaſe; and if Impudence and Money make a Peer in theſe Days, he has made a pretty ſort of a Complement to His preſent Majeſty, whom we ſhall find he has Written a moſt Bombaſt Harangue in Verſe upon, and been after his laudable Cuſtom, exceeding Civil to the Duke and Earl, whom he would have preferable to King Charles the Second's Sons.

Innumerable City-Knights we know,
From Blewcoat Hoſpitals and Bridewell flow.
Draymen and Porters fill the City Chair,
And Foot-boys Magiſterial Purple wear.
Fate has but very ſmall Dictinction ſet
Betwixt the Counter and the Coronet.
[34]Tarpaulin Lords, Pages of High Renown,
Riſe up by Poor Men's Valour, not their own.
Great Families of yeſterday we ſhow,
And Lords, whoſe Parents were the Lord knows who.

It's a ſign, when People riſe in the World, and make a Figure from ſmall Beginnings, Induſtry has had a great hand in their Promotion; and when People of indifferent Circumſtances are advanc'd to Honour, there is an encouragement of Vertue going forward. The Common Seaman's Labours may do much towards the gaining a Naval Victory; but it is the Admiral's Conduct that brings it to paſs; and though Engliſh Pages for their Bravery at Sea are made Lords, it is not a thing to be wondered at, ſince a certain Gentleman, belonging to a Nation he's ſo fond of, has had more than the ſame Honour done him, for none of thoſe Performances.

PART II.

THE Breed's deſcrib'd: Now, Satyr, if you can,
Their Temper ſhow, for Manners makes the Man.
Fierce as the Britain, as the Roman Brave;
And leſs inclin'd to Conquer than to Save:
Eager to Fight, and laviſh of their Blood;
And equally of Fear and Forecaſt void.
The Pict has made 'em Sowre, the Dane Moroſe;
Falſe from the Scot, and from the Norman worſe.
What Honeſty they have, the Saxon gave them,
And That, now they grow old, begins to leave them.
[35]The Climate makes them Terrible and Bold;
And Engliſh Beef their Courage does uphold:
No Danger can their Daring Spirit pall,
Always provided that their Belly's full.

This Paragraph makes our Author look like a Roman himſelf, though he will allow none of us to be any thing like them, (when they have left their Brood behind them, without doubt, as well as any of our other Conquerors;) and he ſeems like Janus to carry his Head two ways: One while, he commends us for our Valour; another, rails againſt us for our Falſhood: He names the Nations that bequeathed us the Vices he makes mention of; and for our Stock of Honeſty, becauſe he would make it as ſmall as he could, the Saxons forſooth, above all other People, muſt be our Benefactors in leaving us that: A valuable ſort of Gift, indeed, when according to his Challenge, out of 60000 Families, ten of them had not ſo much as a drop of their Blood in them.

In cloſe Intriegues their Faculty's but weak,
For gen'rally whate'er they know, they ſpeak:
And often their own Councils undermine
By their Infirmity, and not Deſign.
From whence the Learned ſay it does proceed,
That Engliſh Treaſons never can ſucceed:
For they're ſo open-hearted, you may know
Their own moſt ſecret Thoughts, and others too.

If the Engliſh betray the Secrets that are committed to them, by Infirmity, not by any Deſign, it's as plain as the Noſe in his Face they are Honeſt; which contradicts the Character he gave of them in the foregoing Paragraph: And as that [36] implies a contradiction to Senſe, ſo the Character he gives them, of having Faculties too weak for Intriegues, is a downright contradiction to Truth; ſince we have Stateſmen now in being, and Engliſhmen too, not inferiour to the Richlieu's and Mazarine's of France; or to any hard Names whatſoever the Dutch are diſtinguiſh'd by. And it's beyond all manner of doubt certainly true, that the laſt might have been glad to have got back to the Texel again, had not ſome Wiſe Gentlemen, that lived near the Names, laid their Heads together, in order to forward the Happy Revolution they boaſt of.

The Lab'ring Poor, in ſpight of Double Pay,
Are Sawcy, Mutinous, and Beggarly?
So laviſh of their Money and their Time,
That want of Forecaſt is the Nation's Crime.
Good Drunken Company is their Delight;
And what they get by Day, they ſpend by Night.
Dull Thinking ſeldom does their Heads engage,
But Drink their Youth away, and hurry on Old Age.
Empty of all good Husbandry and Senſe;
And void of Manners moſt, when void of Pence.
Their ſtrong Averſion to Behaviour's ſuch,
They always talk too little, or too much.
So dull, they never take the pains to think;
And ſeldom are good-natur'd, but in Drink.

He's Almanzor-like for killing all, and making a compleat Victory over the whole Engliſh Race. The Nobility and Gentry have had a Taſt of his Fury, and he'll be impartial, and fall upon the Poor alſo; when if they were ſo laviſh of their Money and Time, as he would perſwade us they are, few of'em would come to wear Gold Chains, [37] which he blames them for, or ſhew their Charity in Magiſterial Purple, which has been ſuch a Mortification to him, and if they had not given themſelves Time to think, they would never have arriv'd at.

In Engliſh Ale their dear Enjoyment lies,
For which they'll ſtarve themſelves and Families.
An Engliſhman will fairly drink as much
As will maintain Two Families of Dutch:
Subjecting all their Labours to the Pots;
The greateſt Artiſts are the greateſt Sots.

I never heard but the Dutch were as good Toſs-pots as our ſelves, though he would have us believe, one Engliſhman can drink as much as will maintain two Families of 'em. However he has made amends for that known Lye, by giving his Aſſent to a known Truth, which is, that we are more dext'rous at Buſineſs than them, and are the greateſt Artiſts by conſequence, ſince he has the ill manners to call us the greateſt Sots.

The Country Poor do by Example live;
The Gentry Lead them, and the Clergy drive:
What may we not from ſuch Examples hope?
The Landlord is their God, the Prieſt their Pope.
A Drunken Clergy, and a Swearing Bench,
Has giv'n the Reformation ſuch a Drench,
As Wiſe Men think there is ſome cauſe to doubt,
Will purge Good Manners and Religion out.

The way to aboliſh Religion, which has been the main deſign of our Author, is to make the Clergy look little in the Eyes of the Laity; and he has laid hold of effectual means to further his [38] intentions, nothing being more capable to draw the People from the reſpect which is due to them, ſo much as the imputation of Drunkenneſs, unleſs they open their Eyes and examine into the Character of him that charges them with it. But God be thank'd, we have the ſobereſt Clergy in the World; our Miniſters are Men of exemplary Lives, as well as great Learning; and our Gentry's Tenants are ſo far from ſtanding in ſuch a reverential Awe of their Landlords, that they are Gentlemen themſelves in reſpect of the Boors beyond Sea.

Nor do the Poor alone their Liquor prize,
The Sages joyn in this great Sacrifice.
The Learned Men who ſtudy Ariſtotle,
Correct him with an Explanation-Bottle;
Praiſe Epicurus rather than Lyſander,
And * Ariſtippus more than Alexander.
The Doctors too their Galen here reſign,
And gen'rally preſcribe Specifick Wine.
The Graduates Study's grown an eaſier Task,
While for the Urinal they toſs the Flask.
The Surgeons Art grows plainer ev'ry Hour,
And Wine's the Balm which into Wounds they pour.

The reaſon he has for pecking at our Univerſities, is, becauſe the Vice-Chancellor of one of them, civilly deſired him to withdraw himſelf from it, for fear of his corrupting young Gentlemen-Student's Morals, which he had an excellent Talent at; otherwiſe common Juſtice would have forced him to own, there are the moſt excellent Scholars in them, which are to be found in any place of Learning throughout [39] all Europe; and the Statutes are ſo regularly put in force againſt all manner of Licentiouſneſs, that he has no manner of excuſe for the Scandal he charges them with. Engliſh Phyſicians alſo are Men of the beſt Reputation in that Faculty throughout the whole Univerſe. And to ſpeak againſt our Practitioners dexterity in Chirurgery, is to give the lye to demonſtration, and vent a known falſhood, in the room of that which is true.

Poets long ſince Parnaſſus have forſaken,
And ſay the Ancient Bards were all miſtaken.
Apollo's lately abdicate and fled,
And good King Bacchus reigneth in his ſtead:
He does the Chaos of the Head refine,
And Atom-thoughts jump into Words by Wine.
The Inſpiration's of a finer Nature;
As Wine muſt needs excel Parnaſſus Water.

One may perceive by his hungry inſipid Lines he's a Freſh-water Poet, and that Wine is very far from having any ſuch thing as Inſpiration in it, if he makes uſe of it; that is, for certain Apollo would abdicate, if he was in danger of having good Senſe and Verſe murder'd by the reſt of his Subjects, as he has done; and Helicon would be ſoon drunk up, were the reſt of the Fraternity troubled ſo much with the Heart-burning as he is. But your Man of Verſe knows better, that would acquire Fame by his Writings, and to perpetuate his Memory like one of his Predeceſſors, always goes,—Bene Potus ad Arma.

Stateſmen their weighty Politicks refine,
And Soldiers raiſe their Courages by Wine.
[40] Caecilia gives her Choriſters their Choice,
And lets them all drink Wine to clear the Voice.

As for our Stateſmen, without Queſtion, the making their Heads hot is not the way to make their Thoughts ſedate and cool, and it's evident from the ſucceſs of their Counſels, our Author is no great Politician himſelf. It's apparent alſo he's no Songſter, ſince he underſtands the Cuſtoms of Singing-Men ſo little, as to make them drink, when Liquors are the moſt Pernicious things to a good Voice, and the likelieſt imaginable to take their livelihood from 'em.

Some think the Clergy firſt found out the way,
And Wine's the only Spirit by which they Pray.
But other leſs prophane than ſo, agree,
It clears the Lungs, and helps the Memory:
And therefore all of them Divinely think,
Inſtead of Study, 'tis as well to drink.

For certain he's not one of the leſs prophane, by the wicked Expreſſions that come from him; And ſeems to agree with the Belief of the Jews, who ſaid the Apoſtles were drunk with New Wine, when they declaring the Meſſage of the moſt High God. So that the Reader may find what Sect he belongs to, ſince he is againſt the Reſponſe, of, with thy Spirit let us pray.

And here I would be very glad to know,
Whether our Aſgilites may drink or no.
Th' Enlight'ning Fumes of Wine would certainly
Aſſiſt them much when they begin to fly:
Or if a Fiery-Chariot ſhou'd appear,
Inflam'd by Wine, they'd ha' the leſs to fear.

[41]He's reſolv'd to pull every Body in by the Neck and Shoulders, and Mr. Aſgil is maul'd off next for his notion of Tranſlation; but in ſuch a manner, that any Man would deſerve the Name of a Wiſe one, that could find out where the Satyr Bit. He asks a Queſtion, and anſwers it himſelf; for if it would give Wings to Aſgel's Diſciples, and guard 'em from the Fear of Death, without doubt Mr. Aſgil would not forbid 'em the uſe of a Liquor, which would be very inſtrumental in forwarding their Tranſlation.

Even the Gods, themſelves, as Mortals ſay,
Were they on Earth, wou'd be as drunk as they:
Nectar would be no more Celeſtial Drink,
They'd all take Wine, to teach them how to Think.
But Engliſh Drunkards, Gods and Men outdo,
Drink their Eſtates away, and Senſes too.
Colon's in Debt, and if his Friends ſhould fail
To help him out, muſt die at laſt in Gaol:
His Wealthy Uncle ſent a Hundred Nobles
To pay his Trifles off, and rid him of his Troubles:
But Colon, like a True-Born Engliſhman,
Drank all the Money out in bright Champaign;
And Colon does in Cuſtody remain.
Drunk'neſs has been the Darling of the Realm,
E'er ſince a Drunken Pilot had the Helm.

What he brings the Gods in for, is a ſecret to me, unleſs he would ſhew he has read Poetry, though he is Maſter of none of the Beauties of it. And whom he means by Colon I can't tell; but if it be any particular Perſon, he points his harmleſs Satyr at, it is foreign to the purpoſe, [42] ſince he deſigns it as a Reflection againſt the Engliſh in general. For though there may be a Colon or two, or many more in the Nation, he has no Authority to infer from thence, that Drunkenneſs is the darling Vice in it; or to ſhew the Partiality of his Spleen, if it were ſo, by dating it from the Reign of a Prince whom he had before rendred infamous for a Vice which is not conſiſtent with it.

In their Religion they are ſo unev'n,
That each Man goes his own By-way to Heav'n.
Tenacious of Miſtakes to that degree,
That ev'ry Man purſues it ſep'rately,
And fancies none can find the Way but he:
So ſhy of one another they are grown,
As if they ſtrove to get to Heav'n alone.
Rigid and Zealous, Poſitive and Grave,
And ev'ry Grace, but Charity, they have:
This makes them ſo Ill-natur'd and Ʋncivil,
That all Men think an Engliſhman the Devil.

Any one may perceive he's for voting an Act of Comprehenſion, and that he would all have the the ſtraggling Sects whatſoever enjoy the ſame Privileges with thoſe that are actually in common with the Eſtabliſh'd Church; though by his ſaying they are tenacious of miſtakes, he ſeems to conclude every different ſort of Religion Practic'd in theſe Realms is falſe, and none but the phantaſtical Schemes he propoſes to us as Matters of Faith, true.

Surly to Strangers, Froward to their Friend;
Submit to Love with a reluctant Mind;
Reſolv'd to be ungrateful and unkind.
[43]If by Neceſſity reduc'd to ask,
The Giver has the difficulteſt Task:
For what's beſtow'd they awkwardly receive,
And always Take leſs freely than they Give.
The Obligation is their higheſt Grief;
And never love, where they accept Relief.
So ſullen in their Sorrows, that 'tis known,
They'll rather die than their Afflictions own:
And if reliev'd, it is too often true,
That they'll abuſe their Benefactors too:
For in Diſtreſs their Haughty Stomach's ſuch,
They hate to ſee themſelves oblig'd too much.
Seldom contented, often in the wrong;
Hard to be pleas'd at all, and never long.

As for the Character he gives us in the beginning of this Paragraph, it's ſo inconſiſtent with an Engliſh Temper, that he needs nothing but his own Words to refute him; and if we take leſs freely than we give, it's a plain Argument againſt that lowneſs of Birth, he would tax us with, and ſhews our Generoſity to be ſuch, that we take more Pleaſure in having our own Beneficences accepted, than to give our acceptance of thoſe of others: Which is ſo far from any thing that tends to our diſparagement, that it is a Vertue we ought to be priz'd above our Neighbours for, and an Excellence of that uncommon Nature, that makes us Superior to the reſt of thoſe Nations that People the World.

If your Miſtakes their Ill Opinion gain,
No Merit can their Favour reobtain:
And if they're not Vindictive in their Fury,
'Tis their unconſtant Temper does ſecure ye:
Their Brain's ſo cool, their Paſſion ſeldom burns;
For all's condens'd before the Flame returns:
[44]The Fermentation's of ſo weak a Matter,
The Humid damps the Fume, and runs it all to Water.
So though the Inclination may be ſtrong,
They're pleas'd by Fits, and never angry long.

If we are inconſtant in our Temper, we ſhould certainly, by the frequent changes it is guilty of, ſometime or other fall into a Vindictive Fury, and reſent Affronts which are put upon us; but if we are ſuch Strangers to Paſſion, what a-murrain is become of the Daniſh Fury, and the Portegueſe Rage, which he not long ſince ſaid had ſuch an Aſcendant over us? And for the Humid to damp the Fume, he might have as well ſaid, one moiſt thing adds moiſtneſs to another, which proceeds from no Antipathy of one different Quality to another, as he ignorantly would have it.

Then if Good Nature ſhows ſome ſlender proof,
They never think they have Reward enough:
But like our Modern Quakers of the Town,
Expect your Manners, and return you none.

The laſt Diſtich agrees very little with the firſt, and I find he's over-happy in making Similitudes; for if we are the Benefactors (which he call's a ſlender Proof of good Nature) it's our Buſineſs; to receive acknowledgments, and not return 'em before any ſuch thing is paid us.

Friendſhip, th' abſtracted Ʋnion of the Mind,
Which all Men ſeek, but very few can find:
Of all the Nations in the Ʋniverſe,
None talk on't more, or underſtand it leſs:
For if it does their Property annoy,
Their Property their Friendſhip will deſtroy.

[45]As I take it, Friendſhip is the Union of two diſtinct Minds, and not of one; neither is it an Abſtract of Agreement, which is a ſort of an Epitome of Happineſs; but an entire, perfect, and compleat Enjoyment betwixt one Soul and another. And if we were ſo unhappy as to deſerve the Character he gives, ſince very few Nations are Maſters of this Friendſhip, we have this comfort, as to have a great many Countries (and amongſt them perhaps his beloved Dutchland) who ſhare with us in the want of it.

As you diſcourſe them, you ſhall hear them tell
All things in which they think they do excel:
No Panegyrick needs their Praiſe record;
An Engliſhman ne'er wants his own good Word.
His firſt Diſcourſes gen'rally appear
Prologu'd with his own wond [...]rous Character:
When, to illuſtrate his own good Name,
He never fails his Neighbour to defame:
And yet he really deſigns no wrong;
His Malice goes no further than his Tongue.
But pleas'd to Tattle, he delights to Rail,
To ſatisfie the Lech'ry of a Tale.
His own dear Praiſes cloſe the ample Speech,
Tells you how Wiſe he is; that is, how Rich:
For Wealth is Wiſdom; he that's Rich is Wiſe;
And all Men Learned Poverty deſpiſe.
His Generoſity comes next, and then
Concludes that he's a True-born Engliſhman;
And they, 'tis known, are Generous and Free,
Forgetting, and Forgiving Injury:
Which may be true, thus rightly underſtood,
Forgiving Ill Turns, and Forgetting Good.

[46]Were our Author an Engliſhman, as he would perſwade us he is, he would have contradicted himſelf in this point, and been ſo far from giving himſelf his own good Word, that he would have ſhewn he had pick'd out the worſt he could find in the whole Engliſh Vocabulary. But he is more partial than ſo, and being of another Nation, flings all the dirt that is poſſible upon us: Tho' I dare ſwear he is in the wrong, for charging our Rich Natives with boaſting of their Riches, ſince 'tis manifeſt there is no People in the Univerſe, that are more cautious of having their Wealth known than the generality of Ours; witneſs the Numbers in this Kingdom that are poſſeſſed of vaſt Sums, and yet would have the World believe nothing like it. As for our forgiving Ill Turns, we thank him for the Character, and take it for our own, being in hopes he will apply that of forgetting Good to himſelf, ſince he has been ſo unthankful for the Favours he has receiv'd here, and ſo ungenerous as to return the Mercy of a Nation, who might have handed him very ſeverely for his impious Writings, with ſo barbarous a Treatment.

Chearful in Labour when they've undertook it;
But out of Humour, when they're out of Pocket.
But if their Belly and their Pocket's full,
They may be Phlegmatick, but never Dull:
And if a Bottle does their Brains refine,
It makes their Wit as ſparkling as their Wine.

His Satyr now bears the countenance of Panegyrick, and he has taken off the Scandal, he before faſtened on us, of being a lazie People, by [47] putting that of our being chearful in Labour in its room; and if a Bottle refines our Brains, and gives a ſpirituous influence to our Wit, it very much makes againſt his ſide, who has blamed us for diverting our ſelves over it.

As for the general Vices which we find
They're guilty of in common with Mankind,
Satyr, forbear, and ſilently endure;
We muſt conceal the Crimes we cannot cure.
Nor ſhall my Verſe the brighter Sex defame;
For Engliſh Beauty will preſerve her Name.
Beyond diſpute, Agreeable and Fair;
And Modeſter than other Nations are:
For where the Vice prevails, the great Temptation
Is want of Money, more than Inclination.
In general, this only is allow'd,
They're ſomething Noiſy, and a little Proud.

We have all manner of reaſon to thank him for his great condeſcenſion, in being graciouſly pleas'd to ſhew his compaſſion in concealing our Vices, after he has charged us with all the Devil could put in his Head; and, if he muſt not divulge the crimes he cannot cure, he has already broke through that prohibition, by making mention of ſo much as one ſingle Fault, ſince very few Patients will accept of a Cure, where Old-Nick is known to be the Doctor. As for the Ladies, they are in his favour, though I queſtion whether he will be in theirs, ſince to make them Noiſy and Proud is enough to put them out of Humour.

An Engliſhman is gentleſt in Command;
Obedience is a Stranger in the Land:
[48]Hardly ſubjected to the Magiſtrate;
For Engliſhmen do all Subjection hate.
Humbleſt when Rich, but peeviſh when they're Poor;
And think whate'er they have, they merit more.

If an Engliſhman is gentle in Command, and does not curb in thoſe who are put under him with too ſtiff a Rein, he is certainly praiſe-worthy, and is deſervedly had in eſteem: But if Obedience be a Stranger, in the Land, how comes it about that His preſent Majeſty is own'd as ſuch throughout all the Three Kingdoms. To be humbleſt when rich, is alſo a certain token of an innate Goodneſs; but to reconcile what follows with it, is beyond my Ability, ſince if their increaſe of Wealth is an increaſe of their Humility, they can never be unſatisfied, and think they merit more.

Shamwhig pretends t' ha' ſerv'd the Government,
But baulk'd of due Reward, turns Malecontent.
For Engliſh Chriſtians always have regard
To future Recompences of Reward.
His forfeit Liberty they did reſtore,
And gave him Bread, which he had not before.
But True-born Engliſh Shamwig lets them know,
His Merit muſt not lie neglected ſo.
As Proud as Poor, his Maſters he'll defy;
And writes a Piteous * Satyr upon Honeſty.
Some think the Poem had been pretty good,
If he the Subject had but underſtood.
He got Five Hundred Pence by this, and more,
As ſure as he had ne'er a Groat before.

[49]To call Tutchin a Shamwig, is directly to affirm, he has not half the ill Qualities of a Whig, as he would have him. For my part, I muſt own, I think he has the particular Characteriſtic of that Rebellious, and Whining Sect, if a Murmuring Genius, and an Unſatisfied Temper, can point him out as a Member of ſo ſcandalous a Society. But how two ſuch Brothers in Iniquity, who ſo directly Tally in every thing, but their Opinion about Foreigners ſhould fall out, that's a Riddle to me. Every Body knows Tutchin was deſervedly order'd to be whip'd, through the Weſt Country Market-Towns, and that he was ſet at Liberty, and entertain'd by ſome People of no ſmall note after the Revolution, and how that he like a True Whig, and Villain, afterwards abus'd his Benefactors, by writing a Satyr in Praiſe of Folly and Knavery, incomparably better then his True-Born Engliſhman, but I never could hear any Body ſay Tutchin was worſe then T—d.

In Bus'neſs next ſome Friends of his employ'd him;
And there he prov'd that Fame had not bely'd him:
His Benefactors quickly he abus'd,
And falſly to the Government accus'd:
But they, defended by their Innocence,
Ruin'd the Traytor in their own Defence.

This is alſo a Truth, which he has pick'd out of the Reverſe which was an Anſwer to the Foreigners, and which, as I take it, intimates he had a Place given him at the Victualling-Office; but accuſing the Commiſſioners before the Lords of the Admiralty, and not able to make out what he charg'd 'em with, he himſelf was diveſted of his [50] own Poſt. By this the Author may perceive I am not ſo bad, and ſo abandon'd to Wickededneſs, as to be a Friend of Tutchin's, neither have I ſo little Judgment; as to have a good Opinion of the Perſon who rails at him.

Thus kick'd about from Pillars unto Poſts,
He whets his Pen againſt the Lord of Hoſts:
Burleſques his God and King in Paltry Rhimes:
Againſt the Dutch turns Champion for the Times;
And Huffs the King, upon that very ſcore,
On which he Panegyrick'd him before.

It's natural for Men of both their Kidneys to change ſides as occaſion offers; and if Tutchin's deſign in writing the Foreigners, was only for the Good of his Nation, he was far enough from Huffing the King, who is an Engliſh Prince, ſince he Reigns over us, by taking part with the Engliſh who are the Subjects, that have ſtood by him with their Lives and Fortunes, and loſt abundance of Treaſure in his Defence, when the Dutch have been Gainers by the War.

Ʋnhappy England, haſt thou none but ſuch,
To plead thy Scoundrel Cauſe againſt the Dutch?
This moves their Scorn, and not their Indignation;
He that Lampoons the Dutch, Burleſques the Nation.

If England's be a Scoundrel Cauſe, for God's ſake what muſt that of Holland be? And if we move their ſcorn, it's our own Fault, ſince we have had it in our power to Command their Fear; and might have Lampoon'd the Dutch, without Burleſquing the Nation, had we been ſo wiſe as to have leſs dealings with 'em.

[51]
The meaneſt Engliſh Plough-man Studies Law,
And keeps thereby the Magiſtrates in Awe:
Will boldly tell them what they ought to do,
And ſometimes puniſh their Omiſſions too.

Certainly, he has been in Wales, or Yorkſhire, by the Character he gives the Plough-men; and the Gentlemen of the long Robe have no Reaſon to thank him for caſting ſuch a Reflection on the Study of the Law. For their Part, thoſe are wiſe Magiſtrates indeed that are kept in awe by 'em; and for mine, I have never heard of any ſuch, but one City-Juſtice, and he has a Shoe-Maker to read Law to him.

Their Liberty and Property's ſo dear,
They ſcorn their Laws or Governors to fear:
So bugbear'd with the Name of Slavery,
They can't ſubmit to their own Liberty.
Reſtraint from Ill is Freedom to the Wiſe;
But Engliſhmen do all Reſtraint deſpiſe.
Slaves to the Liquor, Drudges to the Pots,
The Mob are Stateſmen, and their Stateſmen Sots.

If he blames us for our Liberty and Property being dear to us, he cannot be a Friend to the late Revolution, which he would be taken for a Champion of; and he would do well to explain his unintelligible Aſſertion of our not being able to ſubmit to our own Liberty: The next two Lines are applicable to no Engliſhmen, but thoſe of his own Perſuaſion; and the Contents of 'em put in practice by no ſort of Perſons, but thoſe who are under a perpetual uneaſineſs, and have the Impudence to call our Stateſmen Sots; [52] which reflects upon the Wiſdom of him that made choice of 'em.

Their Governours they count ſuch dangerous things,
That 'tis their cuſtom to affront their Kings:
So jealous of the Power their Kings poſſeſs'd,
They ſuffer neither Power nor Kings to reſt.
The Bad with Force they eagerly ſubdue,
The Good with conſtant Clamours they purſue:
And did King Jeſus reign, they'd murmur too.
A diſcontented Nation, and by far
Harder to rule in Times of Peace than War:
Eaſily ſet together by the Ears,
And full of cauſeleſs Jealouſies and Fears:
Apt to revolt, and willing to rebel,
And never are contented when they're well,
No Government cou'd ever pleaſe them long,
Cou'd tye their Hands, or rectify their Tongue.
In this to Ancient Iſrael well compar'd,
Eternal Murmurs are among them heard.

He goes on with the known Qualities of his own Sect, and being ſeemingly aſham'd of owning 'em himſelf, flings 'em on thoſe who have no manner of relation to 'em. He acknowledges there are but too many of this Temper in this Kingdom, and that Rebellion, Diſſatisfaction, and the other Crimes he falſly Charges us with, has a Multitude of Diſciples ready to ſide with either of 'em. But let us ſeek for the Fountain which gives Being to this Sea of Wickedneſs, and which for other cauſes then the River Nile, hides its Head, and we ſhall ſoon find the ſource of thoſe miſchiefs, that are our perpetual Diſturbers, is on that ſide which he is the ungrateful Defender of.

[53]
It was but lately that they were oppreſt,
Their Rights invaded, and their Laws ſuppreſt:
When nicely tender of their Liberty,
Lord! What a Noiſe they made of Slavery.
In daily Tumults ſhow'd their Diſcontent;
Lampoon'd their King, and mock [...]d his Government,
And if in Arms they did not firſt appear,
'Twas want of Force, and not for want of Fear.
In humbler Tone than Engliſh us [...]d to do,
At Foreign Hands for Foreign Aid they ſue.

And where was the Harm to think our ſelves injur'd, if we really were; and to complain of Grievances, if we had a juſt cauſe for it? King James was led aſide, and we did not make our Addreſſes to the Dutch, who treading in wrong Paths themſelves could not ſet His Majeſty in the right: but ſent our Remonſtrances over to the Princeſs and Prince of Orange, in order to let them know, whoſe principal Concern it was, that they had a Jealouſie there was no fair Play going forward at the Engliſh Court. They addreſſed them in no humbler Tone, than was fitting to be made uſe of to Princes of their High Birth; and invited their Highneſſes to England, not ſo much for want of Force, but becauſe it was neceſſary that the Perſons whoſe Concern it was to examine into the P— of Wales his Birth, ſhould be at the Head of them to countenance what otherwiſe would have born the Face of a Rebellion.

William the Great Succeſſor of Naſſau,
Their Prayers heard, and their Oppreſſions ſaw:
He ſaw and ſav'd them: God and Him they prais'd;
To This their Thanks, to That their Trophies rais'd.
[54]But glutted with their own Felicities,
They ſoon their New Deliverer deſpiſe;
Say all their Prayers back, their Joy diſown,
Ʋnſing their Thanks, and pull their Trophies down:
Their Harp of Praiſe are on the Willows hung;
For Engliſhmen are ne'er contented long.

It is not our buſineſs to queſtion what he ſays on His Majeſty's part; and he ſays nothing on the part of the People but what is true, ſince they gave their Deliverer no other Thanks than thoſe he deſerv'd. But it's the greateſt of Falſhoods to ſay we ſoon deſpis'd him; when if any Sect of People were guilty of that piece of Ingratitude, thoſe that call themſelves Diſſenters are the Perſons, who are not ſatisfied of having a free Exerciſe of their Religion, according to the Dictates of their Conſcience; but will murmur on till theirs is the Eſtabliſh'd Faith, and their Meetings have the ſame Royal Authority in their behalf, as the Kirk of Scotland; which, I preſume from His Majeſty's great Knowledge of the Church-of-England Loyalty, will never come to paſs.

The Rev'rend Clergy too! and who'd ha' thought
That they who had ſuch Non-reſiſtance taught,
Should e'er to Arms againſt their Prince be brought?
Who up to Heav'n did Regal Pow'r advance;
Subjecting Engliſh Laws to Modes of France.
Twiſting Religion ſo with Loyalty,
As one cou'd never live, and t'other dye.
And yet no ſooner did their Prince deſign
Their Glebes and Perquiſites to undermine,
But all their Paſſive-Doctrines laid aſide;
The Clergy their own Principles deny'd:
[55] Ʋnpreach'd their Non-Reſiſting Cant, and pray'd
To Heav'n for Help, and to the Dutch for Aid.
The Church chim'd all her Doctrines back again,
And Pulpit-Champions did the Cauſe maintain;
Flew in the face of all their former Zeal,
And Non-Reſiſtance did at once repeal.

Non-Reſiſtance in Things that are lawful, was the Doctrine of our Church; and the greateſt part of our Clergy preached up Paſſive Obedience only where their Prince did not violate the Rights of his Subjects. A great number of them, I am well aſſured, would have ſuffered the greateſt Extremities for the ſake of their Religion; though when the Church-Lands were called in queſtion, and the Poſſeſſors of them were likely to be forced from them; then Judgment began at the Houſe of God; and a certain Time-ſerver, who is in his Party's Intereſt, and lives not a Mile from the Temple, cut aſunder the Gordian Knot which he had before made indiſſoluble; which does not at all affect the Church-of-England Loyalty, ſince that fulſome Harange-maker is looked upon as one of its rotten Members.

The Rabbies ſay it would be too prolix,
To tye Religion up to Politicks:
The Church's Safety is Suprema Lex.
And ſo by a new Figure of their own,
Do all their former Doctrines diſown.
As Laws Poſt Facto in the Parliament,
In urgent Caſes having obtain'd Aſſent;
But are as dangerous Preſidents laid by;
Made lawful only by Neceſſity.

[56]The Safety of the Church is the Preſervation of the Laws; and as the infringement of the Privileges of the one, is a downright violation of the other, ſo unleſs the Authority of Religion be kept up; and the Miniſters of God's Holy Ordinances had in Reverence, the Statutes of the Kingdom will be but an ill Fence to reſtrain the Violence of Licentious Men, who will break in upon the other Laws, after they have deſtroy'd that which is their Fundamental.

The Rev'rend Fathers then in Arms appear,
And Men of God became the Men of War.
The Nation, fir [...]d by them, to Arms apply;
Aſſault their Antichriſtian Monarchy;
To their due Channel all our Laws reſtore,
And made things what they ſhou'd ha' been been before.
But when they came to Fill the Vacant Throne,
And the Pale Prieſts look'd back on what they had done;
How Engliſh Liberty began to thrive,
And Church-of-England Loyalty out-live:
How all their Perſecuting Days were done,
And their Deliv'rer plac'd upon the Throne:
The Prieſts, as Prieſts are wont to do, turn'd Tail;
They're Engliſhmen, and Nature will prevail.
Now they deplore the Ruines they ha' made,
And Murmur for the Maſter they Betray'd.
Excuſe thoſe Crimes they cou'd not make him mend;
And ſuffer for the Cauſe they can't defend.
Pretend they'd not ha' carry'd things ſo high;
And Proto-Martyrs make for Popery.

The Reflection which he deſigns upon the Lord Biſhop of London (for none of our other Fathers in God took Arms on that occaſion) is of ſo little [57] force, that his Lordſhip has nothing to fear from it. His Lordſhip was ſuſpended by an Eccleſiaſtical High Court which was unlawfully eſtabliſhed, was under apprehenſions of ſuffering every day worſe and worſe, and had every Miſfortune to provide himſelf againſt, that either a Subject or a Chriſtian ought to ſtand in fear of; and therefore is very much to be excuſed, though I don't vindicate taking Arms againſt a Sovereign. But the Prieſts whom he joins the Epithet of Pale to (meaning the Non-Jurants) are falſly traduced; they gave no more Aſſiſtance to the then Prince of Orange, than their Prayers for his Succeſs, and their continued Vows to the Almighty to crown an Undertaking, for the ſake of Religion, with an happy Iſſue. And notwithſtanding they were Men of ſuch tender Conſciences, as not to be led by any hopes of Gain to take Oaths to a Prince, who was eſtabliſhed in the Throne during the Life of the King they had ſworn to, I am well perſuaded they are ſo far from turning Martyrs for Popery, that no People whatſoever are more againſt that idolatrous Opinion than themſelves.

Had the Prince done as they deſign'd the thing,
Ha' ſet the Clergy up to rule the King;
Taken a Donative for coming hither,
And ſo ha' left their King and them together,
We had, ſay they, been now a happy Nation.
No doubt we had ſeen a Bleſſed Reformation:
For Wiſe Men ſay [...]t's as dangerous a thing,
A Ruling Prieſthood, as a Prieſt-rid King.
And of all Plagues with which Mankind are curſt,
Eccleſiaſtick Tyranny's the worſt.

[58]It was not only the Prieſt's thoughts, that His preſent Majeſty would have ſettled Affairs on their Ancient Eſtabliſhment, and been contented with the Glory of reſcuing Three Nations from Propery and Slavery, but his Majeſty's own Intentions, as may be ſeen in his Declaration, in the year 1688. was agreeable to their thoughts; till the Parliament was ſo importunate with him to accept the Three, that he could not have refuſed them, without leaving the People he had freed to the ſame dangers they were before expoſed to.

If all our former Grievances were feign'd,
King James has been abus'd, and we trepann'd;
Bugbear'd with Popery and Power Deſpotick,
Tyrannick Government, and Leagues Exotick:
The Revolution's a Phanatick Plot,
W— a Tyrant, S— a Sot:
A Factious Army and a Poyſon'd Nation,
Ʋnjuſtly forc'd King James's Abdication.

No true Proteſtant, I am perſwaded, believes our Grievances were feign'd, but is heartily glad they are redreſs'd. However, though I have a greater Veneration for the Perſon and Merit of W— than to ſay he's a Ty---nt, I am ready to affirm one S— as I know (perhaps not the Perſon he means) guilty of a greater Crime than Sottiſhneſs, for betraying ſo kind a Maſter.

But if he did the Subjects Rights invade,
Then he was puniſh'd only, not betray'd:
[59] And puniſhing of Kings is no ſuch Crime,
But Engliſhmen ha' done it many a time.

I muſt needs acknowledge I don't underſtand the Doctrine of puniſhing Kings; though the Murder of good King Charles has been ſuch a Barbarous Inſtance of it, that if Divine Puniſhment does not overtake the Authors of it, certainly there is no Vengeance in ſtore for the vileſt Offenders.

When Kings the Sword of Juſtice firſt lay down,
They are no Kings, though they poſſeſs the Crown.
Titles are Shadows, Crowns are empty things,
The Good of Subjects is the End of Kings;
To guide in War, and to protect in Peace:
Where Tyrants once commence, the King's do ceaſe:
For Arbitrary Power's ſo ſtrange a thing,
It makes the Tyrant, and unmakes the King.
If Kings by Foreign Prieſts and Armies reign,
And Lawleſs Power againſt their Oaths maintain,
Then Subjects muſt ha' reaſon to complain.
If Oaths muſt bind us when our Kings do ill;
To call in Foreign Aid is to rebel.
By Force to circumſcribe our Lawful Prince,
Is wilful Treaſon in the largeſt ſenſe:
And they who once rebel, moſt certainly
Their God, and King, and former Oaths defy.
If we allow no Male-Adminiſtration
Could cancel the Allegiance of the Nation;
Let all our Learned Sons of Levi try,
This Eccles'aſtick Riddle to unty:
How they could make a Step to Call the Prince,
And yet pretend to Oaths and Innocence.

[60]If I miſtake not, the two firſt Lines in this Paragraph are not clear from Exceptions; for according to the rules of common ſenſe, whether a King reigns juſtly or unjuſtly, he is nevertheleſs a King, beyond all diſpute, while he ſits upon the Throne. But great Diſputants are ſometimes out in their Conſequences; therefore I ſhall skip over the reſt of his Argument, as what is heard every day over Coffee and Tea, and examine into the laſt Verſes, which ſeem to bear all the ſtrength of Reaſon he is capable of muſtring up. If we may call a Perſon to the Relief of a Kingdom, without any deſign of preſenting him with the Throne of it, as certainly we may, there is no queſtion but the People who called him, are innocent, and free from the breach of their Oath to their then Sovereign; ſince to take up Arms is one thing, and to petition for Aſſiſtance to remove Prieſts, and Evil Counſellours, another.

By th' firſt Addreſs they made beyond the Seas,
They're per [...]ur'd in the moſt intenſe Degrees;
And without Scruple for the time to come,
May ſwear to all the Kings in Chriſtendom.
And truly did our Kings conſider all,
They'd never let the Clergy ſwear at all:
Their Politick Allegiance they'd refuſe;
For Whores and Prieſts do never want excuſe.

Perjury is the Violation of an Oath, taken after a ſerious and premeditated manner; but to break an Oath of Allegiance to one King, without ſwearing to another, makes it impoſſible that the Non-juring Clergy ſhould fall under the [61] Cenſure of ſo notorious a piece of impiety. However, the whole Fraternity, Swearers or Non-ſwearers, are extraordinarily oblig'd to their good Friend, Mr. Author, who makes them as ready, if they are in the wrong, to prove themſelves in the right; and as good at furniſhing themſelves with Excuſes, as a thorough-paced Whore before a Magiſtrate, or a venerable Hypocritical Bawd before one of the Society for Reformation of Manners. A great token of the reſpect he has for God's Miniſters.

But if the Mutual Contract was diſſolv'd,
The Doubt's explain'd, the Difficulty ſolv'd:
That Kings when they deſcend to Tyranny,
Diſſolve the Bond, and leave the Subjects free.
The Government's ungirt when Juſtice dies,
And Conſtitutions are Non-Entities.

It is impoſſible Juſtice ſhould die, while the Fountain of it is living: The Chanels through which it paſſes may be choak'd up for a time; but as long as there is wherewithal to feed it at the Spring-head, can never wholly be ſtop'd.

The Nation's all a Mob, there's no ſuch thing
As Lords or Commons, Parliament or King.
A great promiſcuous Crowd the Hydra lies,
Till Laws revive, and mutual Contract ties:
A Chaos free to chuſe for their own ſhare,
What Caſe of Government they pleaſe to wear:
If to a King they do the Reins commit,
All Men are bound in Conſcience to ſubmit:
But then that King muſt by his Oath aſſent
To Poſtulata's of the Government;
[62]Which if he breaks, be cuts off the Entail,
And Power retreats to its Original.

The deſign of this Paragraph, is to ſhew, that the Kingly Power is the Gift of the Subjects, and that whenever a Prince fails in the Duty of his Office, the People may recal their Gift, and beſtow the Crown on whom they pleaſe. This Doctrine might do very well in Poland, amongſt the Radziouskies and Potoskies, who are for an Elective Kingdom; but never will ſuit with a Nation, whoſe Kingdom has been Hereditary upwards of ſix hundred years, and always went to the next Heir of courſe, notwithſtanding the defects of the King, for the time being, might occaſion his Dethronement.

This Doctrine has the Sanction of Aſſent,
From Nature's Ʋniverſal Parliament.
The Voice of Nations, and the Courſe of Things,
Allow that Laws ſuperior are to Kings.
None but Delinquents would have Juſtice ceaſe,
Knaves rail at Laws, as Soldiers rail at Peace:
For Juſtice is the End of Government,
As Reaſon is the Teſt of Argument.

If Laws are ſuperiour to Kings, the Creature may pretend a Sovereignty over the Creator, ſince they are the product of their Royal Aſſent, and never capable of being put in Force without their approbation: The Potſherd may as well ſay to the Potter, Wherefore haſt thou made me? as the Law put a Queſtion to the King, and ask him, Why haſt thou done thus?

[63]
No Man was ever yet ſo void of Senſe,
As to debate the Right of Self-Defence;
A Principle ſo grafted in the Mind,
With Nature born, and does like Nature bind:
Twiſted with Reaſon, and with Nature too;
As neither one nor t'other can undo.

Self-Defence is acknowledg'd by Univerſal Conſent for the Voice of Nature, and enjoin'd by her Laws to be put in Practice; that is, upon any ſudden Attack of an Enemy, or any cauſeleſs Provocation that may be given us, to take care of our ſelves. But the Divine Law which is ſuperior to it, and commands us not to lift up our Hand againſt the Lord's Anointed; prohibits us to call Rebellion Self-Defence; and ev'n Humane Ordinance allows Kings to be the Head of their People, and not liable to the Cenſure of thoſe that are inferiour to 'em.

Nor can this Right be leſs when National;
Reaſon which governs one, ſhould govern all.
Whate're the Dialect of Courts may tell,
He that his Right demands, can ne'er rebel.
Which Right, if 'tis by Governors deny'd,
May be procur'd by Force, or Foreign Aid.
For Tyranny's a Nation's Term for Grief;
As Folks cry Fire, to haſten in Relief.
And when the hated word is heard about,
All Men ſhou'd come to help the People out.

That would be pretty indeed, and we ſhould have a hopeful Nation of it, ſhould the ſame Reaſon, or rather want of it, which governs him, govern all. Every one would cry ſuch a Poſt of [64] Honour was his Right; and if the King ſhould deny him the Grant of it, Rebellion would be the next Word; and every Fool would cry Fire, on purpoſe to make his Neighbour as wiſe as himſelf.

S. Serjeants when a Pris'ner they've beſet
Cry out ſtop Thief, when all the Theft is Debt
Thus England groan'd, Britannia's Voice was heard;
And Great Naſſau to reſcue her, appear'd:
Call'd by the Ʋniverſal Voice of Fate;
God and the Peoples Legal Magiſtrate.
Ye Heav'ns regard! Almighty Jove look down,
And view thy Injur'd Monarch on the Throne.
On their Ʋngrateful Heads due Vengeance take,
Who ſought his Aid, and then his part forſake.
Witneſs, ye Powers! It was Our Call alone,
Which now our Pride makes us aſham'd to own.
Britannia's Troubles fetch'd him from afar,
To court the dreadful Caſualties of War:
But where Requital never can be made,
Acknowledgment's a Tribute ſeldom paid.

That is as much as to ſay, after his own way of expreſſing himſelf, England cry'd Fire, and a Neighbour came in an inſtant, and quench'd it, and receiv'd the Houſe, and all the Furniture for his Pairs. Not that I would detract from the Debt of Gratitude, which will be ever due to His Majeſty; but I Queſtion not but His Majeſty holds himſelf contented with the large Acknowledgments of both Houſes of Parliament. Since 700000 per Annum more than the Crown Revenue, is a Gift never given to any Prince before, though this Impudent Author in defrance of the [65] Donors, calls down for Vengeance on their ungrateful Heads.

He dwelt in Bright Maria's Circling Arms,
Defended by the Magick of her Charms,
From Foreign Fears, and from Domeſtick Harms.
Ambition found no Fuel for her Fire,
He had what God cou'd give, or Man deſire.
Till Pity [...]z'd him from his ſoft Repoſe,
His Life to unſeen Hazards to expoſe:
Till Pity mov'd him in our Cauſe t' appear;
Pity! That Word which now we hate to hear.
But Engliſh Gratitude is always ſuch,
To hate the Hand which does oblige too much.

No Body doubts but the late Queen of Bleſſed Memory, was an ineſtimable Preſent to His Majeſty; but to ſay, he had all that God could give in the Poſſeſſion of Her, was to ſet Bounds to the Power of the Deity, and ſay unto the Almighty, Hither couldſt thou go, and no farther. A thought too big for him that made uſe of it, and too little for that Infinite Being for whom he made uſe of it.

Britannia's Cries gave Birth to his Intent,
And hardly gain'd his unforeſeen Aſſent:
His boding Thoughts foretold him he ſhould find.
The People Fickle, Selfiſh, and Ʋnkind.
Which Thought did to his Royal Heart appear
More dreadful than the Dangers of the War:
For nothing grates a Generous Mind ſo ſoon,
As baſe Returns for hearty Service done.

I don't believe His preſent Majeſty's Aſſent was ſo unforeſeen as our Author would have it; [66] neither can it enter into my thoughts, that his Majeſty's thoughts foretold to him, that we are a fickle, ſelfiſh, and unkind ſort of People; ſince his Majeſty would not have thought it worth his while to accept of the Government of a Kingdom, he foreſaw he ſhould be uneaſie in; or yield to the repeated deſires of ſuch Petitioners, as would be unthankful for the Grant of their Requeſt.

Satyr, be ſilent, awfully prepare
Britannia's Song, and William's Praiſe to hear.
Stand by, and let her chearfully rehearſe
Her Grateful Vows in her Immortal Verſe.
Loud Fame's Eternal Trumpet let her ſound;
Liſten ye diſtant Poles, and endleſs Round.
May the ſtrong Blaſt the welcome News convey
As far as Sound can reach, or Spirit fly.
To Neighb'ring Worlds, if ſuch there be, relate
Our Hero's Fame, for theirs to imitate.
To diſtant Worlds of Spirits let her rehearſe:
For Spirits without the helps of Voice converſe.
May Angels hear the gladſome News on high,
Mixt with their everlaſting Symphony.
And Hell it ſelf ſtand in ſuſpence to know
Whether it be the Fatal Blaſt, or no.

That Injunction's well enough! And the Whore, his Satyrical Muſe, has exhauſted her Magazine of Venome ſo much, that 'tis time her Draggle-tail-ſhip ſhould have a Holiday for ſilence. But the Panygerical Lady is the Devil and all for her part, ſhe cannot Quaver a Note, unleſs both the Poles give their Attention, and loud Fame lends her a Trumpet to ſound her bombaſt unmuſical Notes in. As for the Subject's part, [67] it deſerves a better hand to undertake it: And as for the Undertaker, one would think that a worſe part might be more fit for him. However, let us hear what Words he puts in Britannia's Mouth; tho' Hell's acquainted with his way of Sounding too well to take it for the laſt Fatal Blaſt.

BRITANNIA.
The Fame of Virtue 'tis for which I ſound,
And Heroes with Immortal Triumphs crown'd.
Fame built on ſolid Virtue ſwifter flies,
Than Morning Light can ſpread my Eaſtern Skies.
The gath'ring Air returns the doubling Sound,
And loud repeating Thunders force it round:
Ecchoes return from Caverns of the Deep:
Old Chaos dreams on't in Eternal Sleep.
Time hands it forward to its lateſt Ʋrn,
From whence it never, never ſhall return,
Nothing is heard ſo far, or laſts ſo long;
'Tis heard by ev'ry Ear, and ſpoke by ev'ry Tongue.

The Trumpeter's out of Tune at the firſt Note; that is, he has no manner of Muſick in the firſt Line, which is diſcouragement enough to give any farther attention: But ſince the Winds, and the Poles, and the Endleſs Round, wait his Motions, it will be preſumptious in us not to do the ſame. So—now 'tis a comical ſort of a ſound indeed—the Devil-a-bit of any Eccho comes from it, which is the Beauty of Muſick; it has taken a flight into Old Time's long Ears, which though they are hollow enough to return any manner of Voice; yet the Miſer is of ſo greedy a Temper, as to keep it all to himſelf.

[68]
My Hero, with the Sails of Honour furl'd,
Riſes like the Great Genius of the World.
By Pate and Fame wiſely prepar'd to be
The Soul of War, and Life of Victory.
He ſpreads the Wings of Vertue on the Throne,
And ev'ry Wind of Glory fans them on.
Immortal Trophies dwell upon his Brow,
Freſh as the Garlands he has worn but now.

Sweet! The Sails of Honour furl'd, ſhews a vaſt reach of Thought, and an exuberancy of Fancy! though I know the meaning of it no more than him that wrote it. But they are Words, and that's enough; for it's uncivil to expect more, when he is made up of nothing elſe. Fans them on, too, is a very elegant Expreſſion; though he does our Great and Good King very little Service by the Wind he raiſes for him.

By different Steps the high Aſcent he gains,
And differently that high Aſcent maintains.
Prime for Pride and Luſt of Rule make War,
And ſtruggle for the Name of Conqueror.
Some fight for Fame, and ſome for Victory.
He Fights to Save, and Conquers to ſet Free.

All this is to be confeſſed, and that's a Madman who will not own it, though I believe His Majeſty has thoſe Heroick Vertues in him, as to love the Name of a Conqueror, at the ſame time that he ſets us Free, ſince none but a Conqueror can deſerve that Glorious Appellation.

Then ſeek no Phraſe his Titles to conceal,
And bide with Words what Actions muſt reveal.
[69]No Parallel from Hebrew Stories take,
Of God-like Kings my Similies to make:
No borrow'd Names conceal my living Theam;
But Names and Things directly I proclaim.
'Tis honeſt Merit does his Glory raiſe;
Whom that exalts, let no Man fear to praiſe.
Of ſuch a Subject no Man need be ſhy;
Virtue's above the Reach of Flattery.
He needs no Character but his own Fame,
Nor any flattering Titles, but his Name.

If Phraſes conceal His Majeſty's Titles, it may be taken for granted our Poetical Man of Proſe, or rather our Proſaical Man of Poetry, has publiſhed more than is conſiſtent with the true ſenſe of him. Since to ſay, he'll directly proclaim Names and Thing of Him, when he takes care to ſpeak very little of either, is as much as to ſay, Your Majeſty's gracious Favours will be an Encouragement for me to ſpeak more.

William's the Name that's ſpoke by ev'ry Tongue:
William's the Darling Subject of my Song.
Liſten ye Virgins to the Charming Sound,
And in Eternal Dances hand it round:
Your early Offerings to this Altar bring;
Make him at once a Lover and a King.
May he ſubmit to none but to your Arms;
Nor ever be ſubdu'd, but by your Charms.
May your ſoft Thoughts for him be all ſublime;
And ev'ry tender Vow be made for him.
May he be firſt in ev'ry Morning-thought,
And Heav'n ne'er hear a Pray'r where he's left out.
May ev'ry Omen, ev'ry boding Dream,
Be Fortunate by mentioning his Name.
May this one Charm Infernal Powers affright,
And guard you from the Terrors of the Night.
[70]May ev'ry chearful Glaſs as it goes down
To William's Health, be Cordials to your own.
Let ev'ry Song be Choruſt with his Name.
And Muſick pay her Tribute to his Fame.
Let ev'ry Poet tune his Artful Verſe,
And in Immortal Strains his Deeds rehearſe.
And may Apollo never more inſpire
The Diſobedient Bard with his Seraphick Fire.
May all my Sons their grateful Homage pay;
His Praiſes ſing, and for his Safety pray.

The Reader will infallibly conclude with me, that William is a Name too good for his hoarſe Inſtrument, that ſounds more like a Lancaſhire Horn-Pipe than a Trumpet; and that the Virgins may liſten to Eternity, and not hear ſuch a thing come from him as a Charming Sound. But I am amaz'd to ſee him turn Pimp, while he is lab'ring at the painful Vocation of a Panegyriſt, and ſeek out for Maidenheads for His Majeſty, after having offer'd up his Wiſhes that he may be a Lover as well as a King. How ſoft Thoughts can be ſublime without altering the property, I confeſs I am to ſeek: And the next is the uncharitableſt Wiſh imaginable, viz. that Heav'n ſhould ne'er hear a Prayer where his Name is left out; ſince we ought to pray for our Enemies: And ſome diſaffected People who don't own His preſent Majeſty for their King, without doubt pray for Another. But this is the moſt diverting Paſſage of All, after he has blamed the Men for taking a Cup ſo freely, he encourages the Ladies to take a chearful Glaſs, and drink about as a ſort of a Cordial for them.

[71]
Satyr return to our Ʋnthankful Iſle,
Secur'd by Heav'n's Regard, and William's Toil.
To both Ʋngrateful, and to both Ʋntrue;
Rebels to God, and to Good Nature too.

Saytyr may return, if it pleaſes; but no body will take notice of its ſcandalous Appearance. How we have been either ungrateful or untrue to our King and Country, may be ſeen by the large Summs we have advanced for the Service of both.

If e'er this Nation he diſtreſs'd again,
To whomſoe'er they cry, they'll cry in vain.
To Heav'n they cannot have the Face to look;
Or if they ſhould, it would but Heaven provoke.
To hope for Help from Man would be too much;
Mankind would always tell 'em of the Dutch:
How they came here our Freedoms to maintain,
Were Paid, and Curs'd, and Hurry'd home again.
How, by their Aid, we firſt diſſolv'd our Fears,
And then our Helpers damn'd for Foreigners.
'Tis not our Engliſh Temper to do better;
For Engliſhmen think ev'ry Man their Debtor.

That is more than he knows; Six hundred thouſand pounds is a great deal of Money; and there are People in the World would jump at it once more, ſhould we have occaſion for their Aſſiſtance. And the beſt Inſtance that can be thought on to prevail with any of our Neighbours, will be, that we paid the Dutch before we ſent them home again. As for Abuſes upon us for damning them for Foreigners, 'twas done by Vote of Parliament, and had the King's own Royal Aſſent to it; and if he has any thing to [72] remonſtrate it, againſt the Sixth of February is near at Hand, when he may ſee what thanks our Senators will give him, for finding fault with their wiſe Conſulation.

'Tis worth obſerving, that we ne're complain'd
Of Foreigners, nor of the Wealth they gain'd,
Till all their Services were at an End.
Wiſe men affirm it is the Engliſh way,
Never to Grumble till they come to Pay;
And then they always think their Temper's ſuch,
The Work too little, and the Pay too much.

That Obſervation is a very wrong one, to my Knowledge; for the Dutch were found fault with ſome Years before the Peace, though we ſtood in need of Troops for our Quota toward the War, and 'twas more adviſeable to pay Foreigners which were Veterane Troops, than raiſe new ones of raw and unexperienc'd Natives.

As frighted Patients, when they want a Cure,
Bid any Price, and any Pain endure:
But when the Doctor's Remedies appear,
The Cure's too Eaſy, and the Price too Dear.

We never thought that we paid the Dutch too much, though they were of ſuch an unſatisfied Temper, as to think it too little; ſo that his Simile is very little to the purpoſe, that relates to the Doctor and his Patients.

Great Portland ne'er was banter'd, when he ſtrove
For Ʋs his Maſter's kindeſt Thoughts to move.
We ne'er Lampoom'd his Conduct, when employ'd
King James's Secret Councils to divide:
[73]Then we careſs'd him as the only Man,
Which could the Doubtful Oracle explain:
The only Huſhia able to repel.
The Dark Deſigns of our Achitophel.
Compar'd his Maſter's Courage to his Senſe;
The Ableſt Stateſman, and the Braveſt Prince,
On his Wiſe Conduct we depended much,
And lik'd him ne'er the worſe for being Dutch,
Nor was he valued more than he deſerv'd;
Freely he ventur'd, faithfully he ſerv'd.
In all King William's Dangers he has ſhar'd;
In England's Quarrels always he appear'd:
The Revolution firſt, and then the Boyne;
In Both his Counſels and his Conduct ſhine.
His Martial Valour Flanders will confeſs;
And France Regrets his Managing the Peace.
Faithful to England's Intereſt and her King:
The greateſt Reaſon of our Murmuring.
Ten Years in Engliſh Service he appear'd,
And gain'd his Maſter's and the World's Regard:
But 'tis not England's Cuſtom to Reward.
The Wars are over, England needs him not;
Now he's a Dutchman, and the Lord knows what.

Great Portland at the time of the Revolution, was plain Myn Heer Bentnick, and Poſſeſs'd no Place which Engliſhmen were wont to be Maſters of; ſo that he gave no occaſion of murmuring to a People, who ſtand mightily upon their Birth-Right. And no Body queſtions but he perform'd his Embaſſy in France, with an Extraordinary Conduct, but we never careſs'd him as the only Man ſit for ſo great an Employment; being well ſatisfy'd that his Lordſhip, notwithſtanding his great Abilities, has thoſe who are Natives of this Kingdom, that can equal him. But I ſhall never [74] be of the Opinion, that France regrets his managing the Peace, till what paſs'd between his Lordſhip, and the Duke de Boufflers, be made publick, which perhaps may lead me into a lower eſteem of the French Politicks; and England (though 'tis not her Cuſtom to reward) has recompenc'd that Noble Peer's Services, by giving his Royal Maſter ſuch an addition to the Crown-Revenue, as to enable him to make his Lordſhip what returns His Majeſty ſhall think fitting.

Schonbergh, the Ableſt Soldier of his Age,
With Great Naſſau did in our Cauſe engage:
Both join'd for England's Reſcue and Defence;
The Greateſt Captain, and the Greateſt Prince.
With what Applauſe his Stories did we tell?
Stories which Europe's Volumes largely ſwell,
We counted him an Army in our Aid:
Where he commanded, no Man was afraid.
His Actions with a conſtant Conqueſt ſhine,
From Villa-Vitioſa to the Rhine.
France, Flanders, Germany, his Fame confeſs;
And all the World was fond of him, but Ʋs.
Our Turn firſt ſerv'd, we grudg'd him the Command.
Witneſs the Grateful Temper of the Land.

If he means the old Mareſchal de Schonberg, (as certainly he muſt by what he relates of him) he's very much in the dark as to his Knowledge; for that General was never Ill ſpoken of by the People of England; but deſervedly counted next His Majeſty, their ſupport in time of War: Or if he would have us underſtand him, as to the Preſent Duke his Son, and Generaliſſimo of the Forces in England, whoſe Poſt has cheifly been ſince the Reduction of Ireland here in England; [75] and who has been ſo far from extending his Conqueſts from Villa-Vitioſo to the Rhine, though without queſtion he has Courage and Conduct to do it enough, if Opportunity ſhould offer, tho' I never heard his Grace had orders to attempt any thing, but the taking Furnes, and Dixmude. Some malicious People perhaps have ſpoken diſreſpectfully of him; but it's ſo far from being a natural affront put upon him, that it's nothing elſe but the Reſentments of ſome Soldiers under his Command.

We blame the K— that he relies too much
On Strangers, Germans, Hugonots, and Dutch;
And ſeldom does his great Affairs of State,
To Engliſh Counſellors Communicate.
The Fact might very well be anſwer'd thus;
He has ſo often been betray'd by us,
He muſt have been a Madman to rely
On Engliſh G—ns Fidelity.
For laying other Arguments aſide,
This Thought might mortify our Engliſh Pride,
That Foreigners have faithfully obey'd him
And none but Engliſhmen have e'er betray him.
They have our Ships and Merchants bought and ſold,
And barter'd Engliſh Blood for Foreign Gold.
Firſt to the French they ſold our Turky-Fleet,
And Injur'd Talmaſh next at Camaret.
The King himſelf is ſhelter'd from their Snares,
Not by his Merit, but the Crown he wears.
Experience tell us 'tis the Engliſh way,
Their Benefactors alway to betray.

Without doubt His Majeſty would find himſelf more aſſur'd of the Hearts, and Purſes of his Engliſh Subjects, (if it could be poſſible) if [76] none but They were admitted into His Majeſty's Council, in relation to Engliſh Affairs. For certainly a reliance on their Fidelity, who have run all Hazards, ventur'd their Lives and Fortunes, and every thing that was dear to them for his Service, would not be improper at a juncture of Time when the Hearts and Purſes of thoſe Subjects may be very neceſſary. I know of no Engliſh-man in a Place of Truſt that has betray'd Him; [...]ut in His Majeſty's younger Days in Holland, there were De Wits who would, had not Providence hind'red their Deſigns: And as for the Loſs of the Turkey-Fleet, and the brave General Talmaſh, few Men of Underſtanding but know both thoſe unhappy Miſcarriages lie at a Country's door, who have no great Averſion to Herrings and Butter.

And leſt Examples ſhould be too remote,
A Modern Magiſtrate of Famous Note,
Shall give you his own Hiſtory by Rote.
I'll make it out, deny it he that can,
His Worſhip is a True-born Engliſhman,
In all the Latitude that Empty Word
By Modern Acceptation's underſtood.
The Pariſh-Books his Great Deſcent record,
And now he hopes e're long to be a Lord.
And truly as things go, it wou'd be pity
But ſuch as he bore Office in the City:
While Robb'ry for Burnt-Offering he brings,
And gives to God what he has ſtole from Kings:
Great Monuments of Charity he raiſes,
And good St. Magnus whiſtles out his Praiſes.
To City-Gaols he grants a Jubilee,
And hires Huzza's from his own Mobile.
[77]Lately he wore the Golden Chain and Gown,
With which equipt he thus harangu'd the Town.

If our Author was capable of bluſhing, he might exert that Faculty now, when he is going to abuſe a Gentleman, whoſe Name is as Ancient as that of moſt Families, and who has advanc'd his Reputation and his Wealth to ſuch a degree, that never London-Magiſtrate acquir'd ſuch deſerved Eſteem, during the Execution of his Office, and never one went out of it with more good Wiſhes, and Money, after he had beſtow'd ſo much in Charitable Uſes. But as theſe Calumnies were written on purpoſe to leſſen the Number of thoſe who had eſpous'd his Party, againſt the enſuing Election for Members of Parliament for the City, and the Author of it was in Fee with that ſcandalous, hypocritical Sect, that gave Bills out againſt him: So Sir Charles Duncomb has the leſs to be concern'd at, from the known Partiality and Inveteracy of thoſe that are his Enemies; and may ſtand ſecur'd of thoſe Rewards for his Good Works, which no Hireling-Scribler can detract from; and which ſhall deduce his Name to Poſterity, when ſuch a Fellow as the Author repreſents himſelf to be, ſhall not be known ſo much as to have been born.

[78]
Sir C----s D----b's Fine Speech, &c.
WIth Clouted Iron Shooes and Sheepskin Breeches,
More Rags than Manners, and more Dirt than Riches:
From driving Cows and Calves to Layton-Market,
While of my Greatneſs there appear'd no Spark yet,
Behold I come, to let you ſee the Pride
With which Exalted Beggars always ride.

'Tis well known to all People, who have any knowledge of the Gentleman he inſolently ſpits his Venom at, that his Father had not wherewithal to educate him, as his ſprightly Genius deſerv'd; yet he was ſo far from making him a Cow-Driver, which ſort of People are ſeldom thought to write and read, that he had all the Education neceſſary for one who being born to no great Matters of Poſſeſſion, was one day to launch out into the World to make his Fortune.

Born to the Needful Labours of the Plough,
The Cart-Whip grace't me as the Chain does now.
Nature and Fate in doubt what courſe to take,
Whether I ſhou'd a Lord or Plough-Boy make;
Kindly at laſt reſolv'd they wou'd promote me,
And firſt a Knave, and then a Knight they vote me.
What Fate appointed, Nature did prepare,
And furniſhd me with an exceeding Care.
To fit me for what they deſign'd to have me;
And ev'ry Gift but Honeſty they gave me.

[79]Lyars, they ſay, ought to have good Memories, and the Poet ſhould have bethought himſelf of his making Sir Charles a Cow-driver in the preceding Paragraph, before he made him a Carter in this; elſe he muſt never expect the Character of a Man of exceeding Care, which he has given a Perſon that deſerves it without an Irony.

And thus Equipt, to this Proud Town I came,
In queſt of Bread, and not in queſt of Fame.
Blind to my future Fate, an humble Boy,
Free from the Guilt and Glory I enjoy.
The Hopes which my Ambition entertain'd,
Were in the Name of Foot-Boy all contain'd.
The Greateſt Heights from Small Beginnings riſe;
The Gods were Great on Earth, before they reach'd the Skies.

If he had not been Equip'd otherwiſe than our Author would have him, and been furniſhed with Honeſty which all Perſons, who have had any dealing him are ready to teſtifie, yet even then he had exceeded him that makes his Speech for him, and all his fancied Acquirements. And if to come up to Town in order to advance his Fortunes, may fall under the diminutive way of Buſineſs, that Men follow who are in Queſt of Bread then every Clergyman, Phyſician, and Perſon of other Creditable Callings may fall under the ſame imputation.

B---well, the Generous Temper of whoſe Mind,
Was always to be bountiful inclin'd:
Whether by his Ill Fate or Fancy led,
Firſt took me up, and furniſh'd me with Bread.
[80]The little Services he put me to,
Seem'd Labours rather than were truly ſo.
But always my Advancement be deſign'd;
For twas his very Nature to be kind.
Large was his Soul, his Temper ever Free;
The beſt of Maſters and of Men to me.
And I who was before decreed by Fate,
To be made Infamous as well as Great,
With an obſequious Diligence obey'd him,
Till truſted with his All, and then betray'd him.

Sir Charles D—mb has often made appear, that he was never ungrateful for the Kindneſſes he receiv'd of Alderman Backwell, and is ready to own him now in the midſt of his Proſperity, for the firſt, and ſome occaſion of his riſing in the World. And if the Alderman was His Maſter (as poſſibly he might, though not in the low Station the Poetaſter fixes him in) it's a ſign he was an Excellent and Faithful Servant, or a Man of that Famous Banker's Penetrancy of Judgment, and cautious way of Proceeding, would never have truſted him with his All.

All his paſt Kindeſſes I trampled on,
Ruin'd his Fortunes to erect my own.
So Vipers in the Boſom bred, begin
To hiſs at that Hand firſt which took them in.
With eager Treach'ry I his Fall purſu'd,
And my firſt Trophies were Ingratitude.

If he had ruin'd his Fortunes, the Son of that Honeſt and unhappy Bankrupt would have ſhewn his Reſentments for it. But Mr. B------ll who is now living, is ſatisfy'd of other things, and none at this time has a greater reſpect for Sir Charles D---mb, and viſits him oftner in the Country upon all Occaſions.

[81]
Ingratitude's the worſt of Human Guilt,
The baſest Action Mankind can commit;
Which like the Sin againſt the Holy Ghoſt,
Has leaſt of Honour, and of Guilt the moſt.
Diſtinguiſh'd from all other Crimes but this,
That 'tis a Crime which no Man would confeſs.
That Sin alone, which ſhou'd not be forgiv'n
On Earth, altho perhaps it may in Heav'n.

We have nothing to urge in defence of the Sin of Ingratitude, or to ſpeak in behalf of any Perſon who is guilty of it; but when it is apply'd to a Gentleman who has it not in his Temper to Reward Good with Evil, we ſhould be guilty of the Sin our ſelves, ſhould we not ſtand up in his Vindication. The Sin againſt the Holy Ghoſt is unpardonable, and is the higheſt Offence any Human Being can commit; but he makes a Compariſon between it and Ingratitude which is Venial with God and Man, which ſhews he does not rightly underſtand the Nature of the Crime he writes about.

Thus my firſt Benefactor I o'rethrew;
And how ſhou'd I be to a ſecond true?
The Publick Truſt came next into my Care,
And I to uſe them ſcurvily prepare:
My Needy Sov'reign Lord I play'd upon,
And Lent him many a Thouſand of his own;
For which, great Int'reſt I took care to Charge,
And ſo my Ill-got Wealth became ſo large.

That is as much as to ſay he Broke the Alderman's Back by not holding it; when 'tis apparently true King Charles the 2d's ſhutting up the Exchequer [82] was the Cauſe of it; and he had never been forc'd out of his Native Country by his Creditors, had not his Faithful Services been overbalanc'd by the Treachery of ſome Perſons who manag'd his then Soveraign's Treaſury. I believe the Author is no great Conjurer of a Grammarian by making the word Them which is of the Plural Number, agree with Publick Truſt, which is certainly the Singular; but to take notice of his Faults and Incoherences that way, would Employ us too much; and 'tis ſo well known that when Sir Charles farm'd one of the Crown Revenues, no Perſon that ever manag'd a Place of Truſt, behav'd himſelf more to the Satisfaction of his King and Country than himſelf.

My Predeceſſor Judas was a Fool,
Fitter to ha' been whipt and ſent to School,
Than Sell a Saviour: had I been at hand,
His Maſter had not been ſo Cheap Trepann'd;
I wou'd ha' made the eager Jews ha' found,
For Thirty Pieces, Thirty thouſand Pound.

This is a High Rant indeed! The Poet might have as well Compar'd himſelf to one of the moſt Faithful among the Apoſtles, as the Gentleman whoſe good Name he takes ſuch Liberty with, to the moſt Faithleſs.

My Couſin Ziba, of Immortal Fame,
(Ziba and I ſhall never want a Name:)
Firſt-born of Treaſon, nobly did advance
His Maſter's Fall for his Inheritance.
By whoſe keen Arts old David firſt began
To break his Sacred Oath to Jonathan:
[83]The Good Old King, 'tis thought, was very loath
To break his Word, and therefore broke his Oath.
Ziba's a Traytor of ſome Quality,
Yet Ziba might have been inform'd by me:
Had I been there, he ne're had been content
With half th' Eſtate, nor half the Government.

The Perſon whom he rail's at under the Name of Ziba, has ſo ſignaliz'd himſelf in his Services to the Engliſh Government, that his envious Reflections on him, return upon himſelf; and without doubt if the King was loath to break his Word, he would have had ſome ſcruple at breaking his Oath, ſince Perjury is a Crime infinitely greater, than the Breach of a Promiſe.

In our late Revolution 'twas thought ſtrange,
That I of all mankind ſhou'd like the Change:
But they who wonder [...]d at it, never knew,
That in it I did my Old Game purſue:
Nor had they heard of Twenty thouſand Pound,
Which ne're was lost, yet never cou'd be found

The Report this Paragraph is grounded upon, is as falſe as Hell, and Sir Charles was ſo far from getting ſuch a large Sum by the Revolution, that it's well known to ſome Perſons who are more Acquainted with him than the Author, he loſt conſiderably by ſeveral belonging to the Court of St. Germains. Yet he Valued the Intereſt of the Country he was born in, more than his own, and Rejoyced at his preſent Majeſty's Acceſſion to the Throne, purely out of a Principle of Love to the Kingdom, not becauſe he had out-witted the King.

[84]
Thus all things in their turn to Sale I bring,
God and my Maſter firſt and then the King
Till by ſucceſsful Villanies made bold,
I thought to turn the Nation into Gold;
And ſo to Forg--y my Hand I bent,
Not doubting I could gull the Government;
But there was ruffl'd by the Parliament.
And if I 'ſcap'd th' Ʋnhappy Tree to climb,
'Twas want of Law, and not for want of Crime.

The very Vote of the Houſe of Commons, which has been Printed by his Enemies to hinder his Election in the City ſpeaks otherwiſe; and tho' there were not a few who gap'd more after his large Poſſeſſions than the good of their Fellow Subjects, the Wiſdom of the Parliament thought fit to drop the Purſuit of the Matter, notwithſtanding an Enemy of his who was againſt Reaſſumptions, and is now above being a Member of the Houſe, puſh'd on the Matter in Diſpute as far as poſſible. And if ſuch a Crime as Forgery could have been prov'd againſt him, there was Law enough at that time in Force againſt him, and they would ſcarce have put Themſelves to the trouble of Voting for a new Act of Parliament for him.

But my
The Devil.
Old Friend, who printed in my Face
A needful Competence of Engliſh Braſs,
Having more buſineſs yet for me to do,
And loth to loſe his Trusty Servant ſo,
Manag'd the matter with ſuch Art and Skill,
As ſav'd his Hero, and threw out the B--l.

[85]If the Devil ſtood Sir Charles's Friend, and hinder'd the Bill from paſſing; the Parliament of Conſequence muſt have been influenc'd by him. Which is a very diſreſpectful Reflection on ſo venerable an Aſſembly.

And now I'm grac'd with unexpected Honours,
For which I'll certainly abuſe the Donors:
Knighted and made a Tribune of the People,
Whoſe Laws and Properties I'm like to keep well:
The Cuſtos Rotulorum of the City,
And Captain of the Guards of their Banditti.
Surrounded by my Catchpoles, I declare
Against the Needy Debtor open War.
I hang poor Thieves for ſtealing of your Pelf,
And ſuffer none to rob you but my ſelf.

Sir Charles no more made an Intereſt to be dubb'd a Knight, than he did to be made a Sheriff; but ſince it was His Majeſty's and the Cities Pleaſure, that he ſhould have thoſe unexpected Honours conferr'd on him, he was ready to do what lay in his Power for the Service of both. Tho' he was ſo far from declaring War againſt Needy Debtors, that he made even their Enemies to be at Peace with 'em, and reconcil'd their Creditors to 'em, by aſſiſting thoſe that were Inſolvent.

The King commanded me to help Reform ye,
And how I'll do't Miſs ----- ſhall inform ye.
I keep the beſt Seraglio in the Nation,
And hope in time to bring it into Faſhion.
No Brimſtone-Whore need fear the Laſh from me,
That part I'll leave to Brother Jeffery.
Our Gallants need not go abroad to Rome,
I'll keep a Whoring Jubilee at home.
Whoring's the Darling of my Inclination;
A'n't I a Magiſtrate for Reformation?
[86]For this my Praiſe is ſung by ev'ry Bard,
For which Bridewell wou'd be a just Reward.
In Print my Panegyricks fill the Street,
And hir'd Goal-birds their Huzza's repeat.
Some Charities contriv'd to make a ſhow,
Have taught the Needy Rabble to do ſo:
Whoſe empty Noiſe is a Mechanick Fame,
Since for Sir Belzebub they'd do the ſame

Our Author who has it not in his Nature to be tender of any ones Reputation, would have giv'n us the Name of the Lady as he has done that of the Knight, were there any thing of Truth in what he Affirms. But he knows ſo little of the Matter, that he cannot ſo much as give us the firſt Letter of her Name, an infallible Argument of his inſufficiency in Matters of Proof. If Bridewell be the Reward of thoſe that Cry up the Great Actions of Worthy Perſons, Newgate certainly ſhould be the place of Reſidence for thoſe that publiſh their Praiſes on the Ʋnworthy. And tho' I ſcarce believe any of the firſt will be ſent to beat Hemp, yet if common Diſcourſe be not falſe, one of the laſt is likely to be ſent to the Chequer Inn in Newgate ſtreet, if Captain Darby in St. Martins-Lane be taken up by a Meſſenger, as it's reported.

The Concluſion.

THen let us boaſt of Anceſtors no more,
Or Deeds of Heroes done in days of Yore,
In latent Records of the Ages paſt,
Behind the Rear of Time, in long Oblivion plac'd.
For if our Virtues muſt in Lines deſcend,
The Merit with the Families would end:
And Intermixtures would moſt Fatal grow;
For Vice would be Hereditary too;
[87]The Tainted Blood wou'd of neceſſity,
Involuntary Wickedneſs convey.

The Concluſion bears very little proportion to the Premiſes, for the Cloſe of the Poem is fill'd with a Libel againſt Sir Charles Duncomb only, who is ſo far from boaſting of his Anceſtors, that he is very ready to acknowledge he did not come into the World with that Advantage as ſome do. If he did actually value himſelf on the Account of his Deſcent; what Relation does that bear to the Nation in General? Or what Plea has the Author to Juſtifie himſelf with, for Taxing above two Millions of People with a Folly which he only charg'd one in particular with.

Vice like Ill Nature, for an Age or two,
May ſeem a Generation to purſue;
But Virtue ſeldom does regard the Breed;
Fools do the Wiſe, and Wiſe Men Fools ſucceed.

Ill Nature is certainly a Vice, therefore the Conſequence of his Simile is, that Vice is like Vice, which every one knew before. And if Vertue does not regard the Breed, I am inclinable to think he deſerves no manner of Excuſe, for making Vice an Attendant of it, and tainting the whole Engliſh Poſterity with the Baſeneſs of their Fore-Fathers: Since a Love of Virtue without doubt has as much prevalence, and run's in the Blood, as an Inclination towards Actions that are Vitious.—

What is't to us, what Anceſtors we had?
If Good, what better? Or what worſe, if Bad?
Examples are for Imitation ſet,
Yet all Men follow Virtue with Regret.

[88]That queſtion is reſolv'd without any Difficulty, for if our Anceſtors were good, than the remembrance of their Brave Actions would excite us to tread in the ſame Paths of Honour; if Bad, the Reflections on their diſhonourable Practices would create in us a Deteſtation of Vice, and make us endeavour to degenerate from 'em.

Cou'd but our Anceſtors retrieve their Fate,
And ſee their Off-ſpring thus degenerate;
How we contend for Birth and Names unknown,
And build on their paſt Actions, not our own;
They'd cancel Records; and their Tombs deface,
And openly diſown the vile degenerate Race:
For Fame of Families is all a Cheat,
'Tis Perſonal Virtue only makes us great.

This Paragraph ſeems to contradict the main Deſign of all that went before; for the Intent of the Satyr was to render our Anceſtors Infamous, but now he ſays we Degenerate from 'em, which in plain Engliſh is, we do nothing that is not Praiſe worthy. A [...] I am glad to hear from him that Perſonal Virtue [...]ly makes us Great, ſince he's likely to go without any great Stock of Fame, who has ſo little Virtue to Truck for it by way of Exchange. For if he has as ſmall a ſhare of Honeſty, as he has ſhewn of good Nature, through his whole lamentable piece of Poetry; he may more properly be ſtil'd a Bankrupt, than a Dealer in that ſort of Commodity.

FINIS.
Notes
An Engliſh Proverb, Where God has a Church, the Devil has a Chappel.
*
William the Conq.
Or Archer.
*
Dr. Sherl. De Facto.
*
King Jam. 1.
*
King Cha. II.
*
The Drunkards Name for Canary.
*
Satyr in Praiſe of Folly and Knavery.
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