A Humble Attempt at Scurrility - 41
And vote a Wolf the Guardian of your Sheep.
X.
Here Bully ROUNDHEAD comes, a Sage Divine
Who Adoration pays at Plutus’ Shrine.
A mighty Zealot now for Calvin’s Church,
Tho’ once he would have left her in the Lurch.
Not Godliness but Gold’s his only View;
No Crime to him tho’ e’er so vile is new;
A tricking Judge, and Presbyterian Jew.
XI.
Come Will! advance, hold up thy bloated Face,
Of thy own Sect and Party the Disgrace.
Mind him, good People! if he walks or stands,
How like a FLATMAN rowing with his Hands.
No Bags, by Sales of Land had e’er been fill’d,
Had not his Brother John by Pox been kill’d.
But now grown rich, proud, saucy, and uncivil,
In Coach and Four he’s riding to the D—
XII.
Waddlerump come on; Thy great Head is such,
As never furnish’d was, with over much.
Glad would he be (cou’d he but find the Way)
To make Mankind to him low Homage pay.
Observe him well, whene’er he Silence breaks
How big he swells, and sputt’ring stutt’ring speaks,
“O, Johnny, Jemmy, Andrew, if you’re wise
You will immediately get up and rise,
Nor stand thus idly lying on your Beds;
But shake dull Sleep from off your lousy Heads.
To Court! to Court! if we’re outdone in Votes,
We Presbyterians can’t cut Quakers’ Throats;
And therefore I to look out sharp am bent,
Lest they our noble Tragedy prevent.”—
