Blast of the fickle Multitude.
The Boats that lie the Thames about,
Be but Farts several Docks let out.
Some of our Projects were, I think,
But politick Farts, Foh! how they stink!
As soon as born, they by-and-by,
Fart-like, but only breathe, and die.
Farts are as good as Land, for both
We hold in Tail, and let them both:
Only the Difference here is, that