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

THROUGH London streets upon a day,
The Earl of Peterborough took his way,
All in his pompous coach—perhaps to dine—
The mob of London took it in their head,
This was the Duke of Marlborough, so dread
To Frenchmen on the Danube and the Rhine.

Unable such high merit to reward,
The mob resolv'd to show a great regard;
And so uniting, join'd their forces
To draw his carriage, and dismiss the horses.

The earl from out his carriage pok'd his face,
And told the mob that he was not his grace;
Then bid them be convinc'd and look:
Hard of belief, as ev'n the hardest Jew,
They told him that they better knew,
Then swore by G--- he was the duke:
Then threw their hats in air with loud huzzas,
And form'd a thunder of applause.

Loud bawl'd the earl that they were all deceiv'd—
Loud bawl'd the mob he should not be believ'd—

‘Zounds!’ cry'd the earl, ‘be converts then this minute;’
So throwing sixpence to them, ‘there, there, there,
‘Take that,’ cried Peterborough, with a sneer—
‘Now if you think I'm he, the devil's in it.’