AN EPISTLE

From the Devil to his Friend mid Follower John Church.

Oh, say not, John Church,
I’ve left you in the lurch,
When your life in my service you’ve past;
Though I seem to forsake,
My dear John, do not quake,
I’ll be sure to stick to you at last.

You know that Old Nick
Still is sure those to trick,
Who think they as deep are as he;
And he, still, John, it proves,
Chaseneth those he best loves,
And he loves none so dearly as thee.

Besides, John, I thought
If I let you be caught
In your tricks here on earth, ’twould be well;
For ’twould serve for a taste
Of the joys you must haste
To enjoy with me, Johnny, in h—.

And then, John, your preaching,
And spiritual teaching,
Had almost grown too great a joke;
To those who knew you,
And they were not a few,
Who still laugh’d as on gospel you spoke.

True, you still rail’d at me,
John, sans ceremonie,
And no one thought me your sworn brother;
Like rouges in-grain true,
Who their tricks to pursue,
Still behind their backs backbite each other.

Like me you wear black,
My dear John, on your back,
Then, hasten, dear John, to come down;
Guilt’s ne’er look’d on so well,
My dear Johnny, in h—,
As when clad in a minister’s gown.

We are hypocrites both,
To deceive nothing loth,
In short we’re just form’d for each other;
Then come Johnny, do,
Or I must come for you,—
Oh, come to Old Nick, your dear brother.

You shall be treated well,
Dearest Johnny, in h—,
You on sulphur and brimstone shall feast;
We’ll with fires keep you warm,
And do all things to charm;
As befits so illustrious a guest.

In h—, John, you’ll meet
Many friends from Vere-Street,
Which quite cosey and handy will be;
For their chaplain in h—
You may be, John, as well
As on earth you us’d one time, be.

True, John, scripture you quote,
Like a parrot, by rote,
So too many other men do;
And then ’tis well known
Almost to every one,
I, the devil, can quote scripture too.

Thy locks all so lank,
And thy chops all so blank,
And thy hoarse nasal twangings to boot;
Finely humm’d all the folks;
But adieu to such jokes,
For, like me, you’ve now shewn cloven foot.

THE END.

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MARK BROWNE, Esq.
PLAINTIFF,
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MARTIN JOSEPH BLAKE, Esq.
DEFENDANT,
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