State Tracts Containing Many Necessary Observations and Reflections on the State of our Affairs at Home and Abroad; With some Secret Memoirs. By the Author of the Examiner [i.e. William Oldisworth] |
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To the eternal Fame of that wonderful Politician, indefatigable S---esman, faithful M---er, incomparable Patriot, loyal Subject, facetious Gentleman, profound Lawyer, and undaunted Stickler for the non-forgiving Party, Harlequin le Grand; once the first in the H---se, tho' the last in the L---st; who had the Honour to climb without Merit, and to fall without Pity; the Mirror of all Scribes, the Punisher of Wit, the Patron of D. D'F---, and the President of the Pi---ry.
Chear up, Friend Harlequin! Thou'rt not the first
That has been blest, in order to be curst:
Knaves, Fools, and Tools, have often climb'd aloft,
Not by their Merit, but by others Craft,
That such rais'd Prodigals to serve a Turn,
Might do those Ills the Just and Wise would scorn;
Till boldly Wicked they the Laws despise,
And Sin, like common Whores, without Disguise.
Then all their Villanies unmask'd appear,
Whilst the proud Fates, with angry Looks, draw near,
And make 'em soundly pay for Honours bought so dear.
That has been blest, in order to be curst:
Knaves, Fools, and Tools, have often climb'd aloft,
Not by their Merit, but by others Craft,
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Might do those Ills the Just and Wise would scorn;
Till boldly Wicked they the Laws despise,
And Sin, like common Whores, without Disguise.
Then all their Villanies unmask'd appear,
Whilst the proud Fates, with angry Looks, draw near,
And make 'em soundly pay for Honours bought so dear.
Thus flatt'ring Minions, for their fawning priz'd,
Wade thro' Preferments to be sacrific'd;
And by their sudden Fall, at last attone
For some ill Conduct, not perhaps their own.
Wade thro' Preferments to be sacrific'd;
And by their sudden Fall, at last attone
For some ill Conduct, not perhaps their own.
Wise Governors are taught by Abraham,
To save their Isaac by a hamper'd Ram.
Therefore, according to the World's Desires,
Thou stand'st intangl'd in the thorny Bryers;
All wishing thou may'st never be releas'd
By other Means, than was the horned Beast;
But that to please the head-strong Rabble's Eyes,
Thou may'st become a glorious Sacrifice;
Such that may to the angry Gods atone,
For all those Mischiefs done by thee alone.
To save their Isaac by a hamper'd Ram.
Therefore, according to the World's Desires,
Thou stand'st intangl'd in the thorny Bryers;
All wishing thou may'st never be releas'd
By other Means, than was the horned Beast;
But that to please the head-strong Rabble's Eyes,
Thou may'st become a glorious Sacrifice;
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For all those Mischiefs done by thee alone.
Therefore, take Courage; he that Climbs at all
By wicked Means, should never fear to fall.
By wicked Means, should never fear to fall.
Thy tott'ring Height by mighty Strides was gain'd;
Thy Speed was much too swift to be maintain'd:
For Man or Horse too violent in their Pace,
Are apt to stumble e'er they win the Race.
Thy tow'ring Height no prudent Limits had;
Pride made the blind, and Malice made thee mad;
Stern in Authority, severe to all
That did beneath thy Want of Mercy fall;
Pettish and haughty, easily provok'd,
Or Poets, by thy Means, had ne'er been yok'd
Within those Wooden Gimcracks, which we find
Where first for Knaves, and not for Wits design'd.
For who can merit Scandal, more than those
Who sell their C---ry to their C---ry's Foes?
Thy Speed was much too swift to be maintain'd:
For Man or Horse too violent in their Pace,
Are apt to stumble e'er they win the Race.
Thy tow'ring Height no prudent Limits had;
Pride made the blind, and Malice made thee mad;
Stern in Authority, severe to all
That did beneath thy Want of Mercy fall;
Pettish and haughty, easily provok'd,
Or Poets, by thy Means, had ne'er been yok'd
Within those Wooden Gimcracks, which we find
Where first for Knaves, and not for Wits design'd.
For who can merit Scandal, more than those
Who sell their C---ry to their C---ry's Foes?
What, tho' you once did o'er the N---n tow'r!
Yet now with Shame you've lost that awful Pow'r,
And art become the Subject of Lampoon,
For all the little Scribblers of the Town;
Whilst those, o'er whom thou triumph'st, when so Great,
Sing thy Disgrace, and hasten on thy Fate,
That Heav'n's promis'd Vengeance may be shew'd,
On thee and thine, and all that cursed Brood,
Whose Father triumph'd o'er the Royal Martyr's Blood.
Yet now with Shame you've lost that awful Pow'r,
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For all the little Scribblers of the Town;
Whilst those, o'er whom thou triumph'st, when so Great,
Sing thy Disgrace, and hasten on thy Fate,
That Heav'n's promis'd Vengeance may be shew'd,
On thee and thine, and all that cursed Brood,
Whose Father triumph'd o'er the Royal Martyr's Blood.
Thus ruin'd Families, undone by thee,
With joyful Eyes, thy happy Downful see:
For who can pity him, who ne'er could show
One gen'rous Act to either Friend or Foe;
But always promis'd Favours, to deceive,
And ne'er in Pow'r had Mercy to forgive?
With joyful Eyes, thy happy Downful see:
For who can pity him, who ne'er could show
One gen'rous Act to either Friend or Foe;
But always promis'd Favours, to deceive,
And ne'er in Pow'r had Mercy to forgive?
The same hard Measure may'st thou always find,
Not only from the Laws, but all Mankind,
That the same Path thy Servant has prepar'd,
May be assign'd thee as thy just Reward;
For since no Mercy would the Traytor save,
Ev'n h---g the Master too, who taught the Knave
That little Scriblers, who were once thy Scorn,
May trot to see thee take one happy Turn,
And teach the angry World in doleful Verse,
To curse thy Actions, and reproach thy Herse:
Nay, may the jingling Champion of thy Crimes,
Give us thy Hist'ry in his nauseous Rhimes,
That all thy Deeds may shine without a Mask,
In Numbers only fit for such a Task.
And to oblige thee farther, when the Law
Against thee shall the Sword of Justice draw,
May the fond Fool be of his Hymns as free
To th'Gallows, as he was to th'Pillory.
Not only from the Laws, but all Mankind,
That the same Path thy Servant has prepar'd,
May be assign'd thee as thy just Reward;
For since no Mercy would the Traytor save,
Ev'n h---g the Master too, who taught the Knave
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May trot to see thee take one happy Turn,
And teach the angry World in doleful Verse,
To curse thy Actions, and reproach thy Herse:
Nay, may the jingling Champion of thy Crimes,
Give us thy Hist'ry in his nauseous Rhimes,
That all thy Deeds may shine without a Mask,
In Numbers only fit for such a Task.
And to oblige thee farther, when the Law
Against thee shall the Sword of Justice draw,
May the fond Fool be of his Hymns as free
To th'Gallows, as he was to th'Pillory.
Thus may the Prophet, with his empty Sounds,
Labour in vain to heal thy Mem'ry's Wounds;
And with his windy Bombast, crown thy Fate,
Which, tho' it comes to Morrow, comes too late.
Labour in vain to heal thy Mem'ry's Wounds;
And with his windy Bombast, crown thy Fate,
Which, tho' it comes to Morrow, comes too late.
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