Poems on Affairs of State

I'd praise your Lordship, but you've had your share
Of that before, if not too much by far;
And now a nobler Field for Cursing does appear.
Yet I'll not curse, but leave you to the Croud,
Who never baulk their Rage, but speak aloud;
Thro all the Labyrinths of your Crimes they'll track you,
Worse than ten thousand Furies they'll attack you.

We talk not here of Penal Laws, or Test,
Nor how you, King of Terrors in the West,
With more than savage Cruelty oppress'd
Those whose thin Shades now stab your anxious Breast:
To those I leave you; each with brandish'd Dart
Will home revenge his Quarrel at your Heart:
For me, I'll only let your Lordship see
How they resent your chang'd Felicity.

Now may you hear the People as they scour
Along, not fear to damn the Chancellor.
The Women too, and all the tender Crew,
That us'd to pity all, now laugh at you:
The very Boys, how they do grin and prate,
And giggle at the Bills upon your Gate!
Nay, rather than be frustrate of their Hope,
The Women will contribute for a Rope:
And those fine Locks, that no gay Spark might touch,
On this account Ketch may, they love my Lord so much.
O for Dispensing now! Ay, now's the time!
Your Eloquence can hardly blanch your Crime:
And all the Turnings of your Protein Wit,
With all your little Tricks won't help a bit:

278

Nay, that smooth Tongue, in which your chiefest Trust is,
Now can't, altho it sometimes baffled Justice.
No Ignoramus Juries shall perplex you,
But with their Billa vera's now shall vex you:
From their dire Claws no hiding Hole you'll find,
They now will speak their own, and not a Party's Mind.
Not now, as heretofore, when on the Bench.
Flattery and Daubing had such Influence,
And Jefferies for a Bribe would with the Laws dispense.
But granting all our Laws are out of joint,
They fear not still but they shall gain the Point:
A High Commission may the Cause decide;
Your Lordship by a Butcher may be try'd,
When by Commission he is dignify'd,
His Pow'r you must not doubt, if he be satisfy'd:
Of Laws like this we have a Precedent,
Nought will't avail t'appeal to a Parliament;
For they are such damn'd Sticklers for the Laws,
That it is five to one you lose your Cause.

You see, my Lord, the Case is very sad,
Enough to make a wiser Man stark mad:
But I'll advise your Wisdom what to do;
'Tis plain, that they their Madness will pursue:
They hope to see you soon advanc'd on high,
Most sweetly dangling 'twixt the Earth and Sky.
This 'tis they mean, 'tis this they would have done,
But I would chouse 'em ev'ry Mother's Son:
Troth I'd e'en hang my self; 'tis quickly done.
For why should such a Man as you submit
To be the publick Laughter of each grinning Cit?
Else a keen Rasor take, and never fear,
To cut your Lordship's Throat from Ear to Ear;
'Tis feasible enough, you know who did it,
And you are valiant, therefore never dread it:
Fail not to make sure work on't if you can,
Else Essex will be thought the stouter Man.

University of Virginia Library

A Letter to the Lord Chancellor.