The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] :: :: University of Virginia Library

Salisb'ry examining the iron hands
Of Fame's and sweet St. Giles's blackguard bands,
That clap our kings to parliament and play—
Salisb'ry, too, gauging all their gaping throats,
Exciseman-like, to find the best for notes,
That money mayn't be thrown away:

Resolv'd from those same legions of vulgarity,
To get full pennyworths of popularity;
Resolv'd his master shall be fairly treated,
And not, as usual, by his servants cheated.

Suppose to give this humour-loving isle
A pretty opportunity to smile,
You paint the Solomon of yon fam'd place ,
Where fair philosophy, the heav'nly dame,
By barb'rous usage cover'd deep with shame,
No longer shows her exil'd face:
Where cent. per cent. in value rise,
Toads, tadpols, grasshoppers, and flies.

Suppose you paint Sir Joseph all so blest,
With many a parasitical dear guest,
Swoll'n by their flatt'ries like a bladder big,
Throwing away of learning such a waste,
And proving his superior classic taste,
By swallowing the sumen of a pig.

Pitt trying to unclench Britannia's fist,
Imploring money for a king;
Telling most mournful tales of civil list,
The lady's tender heart to wring.

Tales of expense in doctors' bills,
High price of blisters, bolusses, and pills,
Long journey to St. Paul's t'oblige the nation,
And give God thanks for restoration:
Britannia with arch look the while,
Partaking strongly of a smile,
Pointing to that huge dome , the nation's wealth;
Where people sometimes place their cash by stealth,
And all so modest with their secret store,
Inform the world they're poor, ah, very poor.

The Royal Society.

The Bank of England.