E. M. O Nation lost to Honour and to Shame!
So, then, Corruption now has chang'd its Name:
And what was once a paultry Bribe, to Day
Is gently stil'd an Honourable Pay.
Blessings on that great Genius who has wrought
This strange Conversion—Who has bravely bought
Our Liberty from Virtue—Pray go on.
G. M. Of Commerce next you talk—pretend 'tis gone,
To Foreign Climes—Amen, for what I care,
Perdition on the Merchants—They must dare!
To thwart my Purpose—I detest them—E. M. How!
G. M. Yes—And I think I'm even with 'em now.
They would not be convention'd, nor excis'd,
But they shall feel the Scourge themselves advis'd;
They shall be swingingly bewarr'd, I'll swear;
And since they'd not my little Finger bear,
My Loins shall press 'em 'till they guilty plead,
And sue for Mercy at my Feet. E. M. Indeed!
G. M. Aye, trust me, shall they——E. M. But don't tell 'em so; }
For they're a stubborn sturdy Gang you know, }
G. M. O! they'll be supple when their Cash runs low.
Their Purse, which makes them proud and insolent,
A trav'ling with their Commerce shall be sent—
E. M. Take Care they don't send you a trav'ling first;
G. M. No, Sir, I dare 'em now to do their Worst.
Seven Sessions more I am at least secure—
E. M. Nay then you'll crush 'em quite?—But are you sure,
There is a Spirit, Sir? G. M. What Spirit pray?
A Spirit that the Treasury can't lay.
E. M. I'm answer'd Sir,—G. M. Next, Friend, one Word about
Those spiteful Innuendoes you throw out,
That squint at Contracts, Forage, and what not,
'Tis more than Time that those Things were forgot.
You should not link the present with the past—
E. M. Yes when they make one glorious Whole at last;
When, tho' Times differ, Actions still agree,
And what Men were they are—What they will be,
We safely may pronounce—G. M. Well, Sir, but why
On my dear Family and Friends this Cry?
Suppose they've Places, Wealth, and Titles too,
Merit like Ours should surely have its Due.
That squaemish Steward's of all Fools the worst,
That lays not up for his own Houshold first;
Nor takes a proper Care of those staunch Friends,
By whose good Services he gains his Ends.
Besides, who'd drudge the Mill-Horse of the State;
Curst by the Vulgar, envy'd by the Great;
In one fastidious Round of Hurry live,
And join, in Toil, the Matin with the Eve;
Be hourly plagu'd 'bout Pensions, Strings, Translations,
Or, worse! that damn'd Affair of Foreign Nations.
Make War and Treaties with alternate Pain:
First sweat to build, then to pull down again.
Who'd cringe at Levees, or in Closets—Oh!
Stoop to the rough Remonstrance of the Toe?
Did not some Genius whisper, "That's the Road
"To Opulence, and Honours bless'd Abode;
"Thus you may aggrandize yourself, and Race;
"Pension this Knight, or give that Peer a Place."
E. M. So Angria, Sir, as justly might declare,
He plunder'd only to enrich his Heir;
Nor longer would his Piracies pursue,
Than 'till he had provided for his Crew.
G. M. Your Servant, Sir, I think you're pretty free— }
E. M. Why Truth is Truth, Sir, and will out, you see; }
G. M. Yes, s'death! but couple Angria with me!
E. M. I'll say no more on't—G. M. No you've said enough;
And what you next advise, is canting Stuff.
Turn my Eyes inward! not quite so devout;
They've Task sufficient to look sharp without:
And should the fatal Sisters cut my Thread
Some score Years hence—I trouble not my Head }
Where I'm entomb'd, or number'd with what Dead; }
I want no Grave-Stone to promulge my Fame,
Nor trust to breathless Marble for a Name,
Britannia's self a Monument shall stand
Of the bless'd Dowry I bequeath my Land:
Her Sons shall hourly my dear Conduct boast;
They best can speak it, who will feel it most.
But if some grateful Verse must grace my Urn,
Attend ye Gazeteers—Be this the Turn—
Weep, Britons, weep—Beneath this Stone lies He,
Who set your Isle from dire Divisions free, }
And made your various Factions all agree. }
E. M. That's right, G. M. You'd have me quit too—No, I'll still
Drive on, and make you happy 'gainst your Will.
As for your may and may, Sir,—may be Not,
Can my vast Services be There forgot?
As for those lauded Successors you name,
If once in Pow'r, they'd act the very same.
E. M. That's Cobweb Sophistry—Did they not fill
The noblest Posts? And had they not, pray, still,
But that they greatly scorn'd to league with those,
Who were at once their King's and Country's Foes?
G. M. Well, Sir, as there is nothing I can say
Will with your starch'd unbending Temper weigh;
My last best Answer I'll in Writing leave;
Pray mark it—E. M. How! May I my Eyes believe?
G. M. You may—I thought I should convince you, E. M. Yes,
That Fame for once spoke Truth—And as for This—
G. M. Furies! My thousand Bank, Sir, E. M. Thus I Tear,
Go, blend, Corruption, with corrupting Air.
G. M. Amazing Frenzie! Well, if this won't do,
What think you of a Pension? E. M. As of You.
G. M. A Place—E. M. Be gone, G. M. A Title—E. M. is a Lie
When ill conferr'd G. M. A Ribband—E. M. I defie
Farewell then Fool—If you'll accept of Neither,
You and your Country may be damn'd together.
FINIS