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The CONVERTS.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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The CONVERTS.

I did intend in Rhimes Heroick
To write of Converts Apostolick,
Describe their persons and their shames,
And leave the World to guess their Names:

15

But soon I thought the scoundrel Theme
Was for Heroick Song too mean;
Their Characters we'll then rehearse
In Burlesque, or in Dogrel Verse;
Of Earls, of Lords, of Knights I'll sing,
That chang'd their Faith to please their King.
The first an Antiquated Lord,
A walking Mummy in a word,
Moves cloath'd in Plaisters Aromatick,
And Flannel, by the help of a Stick,
And like a grave and noble Peer,
Outlives his Sense by Sixty year;
And what an honest Man would anger,
Outlives the Fort he built at Tanger;
By Pox and Whores long since undone,
Yet loves it still, and fumbles on:
Why he's a Favourite few can guess,
Some say it's for his Ugliness;
For often Monsters (being rare)
Are valued equal to the Fair:
For in his Mistresses, kind James
Loves ugliness in its extreams;
But others say 'tis plainly seen,
'Tis for the choice he made o'th' Queen;
VVhen he the King and Nation blest
VVith Off-Spring of the House of Este;
A Dame whose Affability
Equals her Generosity:
Oh! VVell match'd Pair, who frugally are bent
To live without the aids of Parliament.
All this and more the Peer perform'd,
Then to compleat his Virtues, turn'd;
But twas not Conscience, or Devotion,
The hopes of Riches or Promotion,

16

That made his Lordship first to vary,
But 'twas to please his Daughter Mary;
And she to make retaliation,
Is full as lewd in her Vocation.
The next a Caravanish Thief,
A lazy Mass of damn'd Rump Beef;
Prodigious Guts, no Brains at all,
But very Rhynocerical,
VVas Married ere the Cub was lickt,
And now not worthy to be kickt;
By Jockeys bubbled, forc'd to fly,
To save his Coat, to Italy,
VVhere H---s and he, that virtuous Youth,
Equal in Honour, Sense, and Truth;
By Reason and pure Conscience urged,
Past Sins by Abjuration purged:
But 'tis believ'd both Rogue and Peer,
More worldly Motives had to veer;
The Scoundrel Plebeians swerving
Was to secure himself from starving;
And that which made the Peer a Starter,
VVas hope of a long wish'd for Garter.
Next comes a Peer who sits at Helm,
And long has steer'd the giddy Realm.
VVith Taylors motion, mein, and grace,
But a right Statesman in Grimace;
The Sneer, the Cringe, and then by turns,
The dully grave, the Frowns, and Scorns,
Promises all, but nought performs:
But howe'er great he's in Promotion,
He's very humble in Devotion;
VVith Taper light, and Feet all bare,
He to the Temple did repair,
And knocking softly at the Portal,
Cry'd, Pitty (Fathers) a poor Mortal,

17

And for a Sinner make some room,
A Prodigal returned home.
Some say that in that very hour,
Convert Mall Megs arriv'd at door;
So both with penitent Grimace,
States-man and Bawd with humble pace
Enter'd and were receiv'd to grace.
The next a Knight of high Command
'Twixt London-bridge and Dover-Sand;
A Man of strict and holy Life,
Taking example from his Wife;
He to a Nunnery sent her packing,
Lest they should take each other napping.
Some say L'Est--- did him beget,
But that he wants his Chin and Wit;
Good natur'd, as you may observe,
Letting his Titular Father starve;
A Man of Sense and Parts, we know it,
But dares as well be damn'd as show it;
Brib'd by himself, his trusty Servant
At Kings-Bench-Bar appear'd most fervent
Against his Honour for the Test,
To him 'twas Gain, to all Mankind a Jest.
Blue-Bonnet Lords a numerous store,
Whose best Example is they're poor,
Meerly drawn in, in hopes of Gains,
And reap the scandal for their pains;
Half-starv'd at Court with expectation,
Forc'd to return to their Sootch Station,
Despis'd and scorn'd by every Nation.
A paltry Knight not worth a mention,
Renounc'd his Faith for piteous Pension;
After upon True Protestant Whore,
H'had spent a large Estate before.

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A thick short Collonel next does come,
With Stradling Legs and massy Bum:
With many more of shameful Note,
Whose Honour ne're was worth a Groat.
If these be Pillars of the Church,
'Tis fear'd they'll leave her in the lurch;
If abler Men do not support her Weight,
All quickly will return to Forty Eight.