And he spoke full as well as the Members elsewhere.
Your life, cry’d he, Crop’s a mere mock of devotion;
Well spoken, said Cods, who was backing each motion;
Such conduct, he said, combin’d madness and sin;
And Cods swore his friend P⸺ should sleep in a whole skin.
Now in Akerman’s synagogue Crop’s got a place,
A beard like a Jew doth his pious front grace;
In time ’tis to grow so enormously big,
As to make Tommy Erskine a full-bottom’d wig.
Mr. P⸺, said Crop, to turn Turk I intend,