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Where Vices mingle in the oddest ways,

The grossest Slander and the dirtiest Praise ;
Flattery enough to make the vainest sick,
And clumsy Stratagem, and scoundrel Trick:
Nay more, your Anger and Contempt to cause,
These, while they fish for Profit, claim Applause;
Brib'd, bought and bound, they banish Shame and Fear;
Tell you they're staunch, and have a Soul sincere ;
Then talk of Honour, and if doubt's express'd,
Show where it lies, and smite upon the Breast.

Among these Worthies, some at first declare
For whom they vote: he then has most to spare;
Others hang off-when coming to the Post
Is spurring Time, and then he'll spare the most:
While some demurring, wait, and find at last
The Bidding languish, and the Market past;
These will affect all Bribery to condemn,
And be it Satan laughs, he laughs at them.

Some too are pious-One desir'd the Lord To teach him where "to drop his little word; "To lend his Vote, where it will profit best; "Promotion came not from the East or West; "But as their Freedom had promoted some, "He should be glad to know which way 'twould come. "It was a naughty World, and where to sell "His precious Charge, was more than he could tell." 'But you succeeded?'-true, at mighty Cost, And our good Friend, I fear, will think he's lost : Inns, Horses, Chaises, Dinners, Balls and Notes; What fill'd their purses, and what drench'd their throats; The private Pension, and indulgent Lease,

Have all been granted to these Friends who fleece; Friends who will hang like Burrs upon his Coat, And boundless judge the value of a Vote.

And though the Terrors of the Time be past,
There still remain the Scatterings of the Blast;
The Boughs are parted that entwin'd before,
And ancient Harmony exists no more;

The gusts of Wrath our peaceful Seats deform,
And sadly flows the sighing of the Storm:
Those who have gain'd are sorry for the Gloom,
But they who lost, unwilling Peace should come;
There open Envy, here suppress'd Delight,
Yet live till Time shall better Thoughts excite,
And so prepare us by a six-years' Truce,
Again for Riot, Insult, and Abuse.

Our worthy Mayor, on the victorious part,
Cries out for Peace, and cries with all his heart;
He, civil Creature! ever does his best,

To banish Wrath from every Voter's breast; "For where," says he, with reason strong and plain, "Where is the Profit? what will Anger gain?" His short stout Person he is wont to brace

In good brown Broad-Cloth, edg'd with two-inch Lace,
When in his Seat; and still the Coat seems new,
Preserv'd by common use of Seaman's blue.

He was a Fisher from his earliest day,
And plac'd his Nets within the Borough's Bay;
Where by his Skates, his Herrings, and his Soles,
He liv'd, nor dream'd of Corporation-Doles*;

*I am informed that some explanation is here necessary, though I am ignorant for what class of my readers it can he required. Some corporate bodies have actual property, as appears by their receiving rents; and they obtain money on the admission of members into their society: this they may lawfully share perhaps. There are, moreover, other doles, of still greater value, of which it is not necessary for me to explain the nature or to inquire into the legality.

But toiling sav'd, and saving, never ceas'd

Till he had box'd up Twelve Score Pounds at least: He knew not Money's power, but judg'd it best Safe in his Trunk to let his Treasure rest;

Yet to a Friend complain'd: "Sad charge, to keep "So many Pounds, and then I cannot sleep :" 'Then put it out,' replied the Friend :-" What, give

"My Money up? why then I could not live:"

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Nay, but for Interest place it in his hands,

'Who'll give you Mortgage on his House or Lands :' "Oh but," said Daniel," that's a dangerous plan, "He may be robb'd like any other Man ;" 'Still he is bound, and you may be at rest, 'More safe the Money than within your Chest; 'And you'll receive, from all deductions clear, 'Five Pounds for every Hundred, every Year.' "What good in that?" quoth Daniel, “for 'tis plain, "If part I take, there can but part remain:" 'What! you, my Friend, so skill'd in gainful things, 'Have you to learn what Interest Money brings?" "Not so," said Daniel," perfectly I know,

"He's the most Interest who has most to show." 'True! and he'll show the more, the more he lends; 'Thus he his weight and consequence extends;

For they who borrow must restore each sum, ‘And pay for use—What, Daniel, art thou dumb?’ For much amaz'd was that good Man-" Indeed!" Said he with glad'ning eye, "will Money breed? "How have I liv'd? I grieve, with all my heart, "For my late Knowledge in this precious Art:"Five Pounds for every Hundred will he give? "And then the Hundred? -. I begin to live."So he began, and other means he found,

As he went on, to multiply a Pound:

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Though blind so long to Interest, all allow
That no Man better understands it now:
Him in our Body-Corporate we chose
And once among us, he above us rose ;

Stepping from post to post, he reach'd the Chair,
And there he now reposes-that's the Mayor.
But 'tis not he, 'tis not the kinder few,
The Mild, the Good, who can our Peace renew;
A peevish humour swells in every Eye,

The Warm are angry, and the Cool are shy;
There is no more the social Board at Whist,
The good old Partners are with scorn dismiss'd;
No more with Dog and Lantern comes the Maid,
To guide the Mistress when the Rubber's play'd;
Sad shifts are made lest Ribbons blue and green
Should at one Table, at one time be seen;
On Care and Merit none will now rely,
"Tis Party sells, what Party-Friends must buy;
The warmest Burgess wears a Bodger's Coat,
And Fashion gains less Int'rest than a Vote;
Uncheck'd the Vintner still his Poison vends,
For he too votes, and can command his Friends.
But this admitted; be it still agreed,
These ill Effects from noble Cause proceed;
Though like some vile Excrescences they be,
The Tree they spring from is a sacred Tree,
And its true produce, Strength and Liberty.

Yet if we could th' attendant Ills suppress,
If we could make the sum of Mischief less;
If we could warm and angry Men persuade,
No more Man's common Comforts to invade ;
And that old Ease and Harmony re-seat,
In all our Meetings, so in Joy to meet;
Much would of Glory to the Muse ensue,
And our good Vicar would have less to do.

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