Brushing with hasty steps along Pall Mall,
To meet Lloyd Wardle at the House’s call.
“There to the nodding members, luckless wights!
In hackney’d strains, till midnight would he preach
’Bout Magna Charta, and the Bill of Rights,
And prate of things far, far, beyond his reach.
“To prison sent, he swore they us’d him ill,
The room[19] was powerless, as all should see.
The trial came, and British Judges still
Refused to change the House’s just decree.