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The Works of the Right Honourable Sir Chas. Hanbury Williams

... From the Originals in the Possession of His Grandson The Right Hon. The Earl of Essex and Others: With Notes by Horace Walpole ... In Three Volumes, with Portraits

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collapse sectionI. 
  
  
  
ARGYLE'S DECAMPMENT,
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionII. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 III. 


17

ARGYLE'S DECAMPMENT,

(Written in June, 1740.)

WHEN Argyle would not go to camp,
Thus did our Monarch say;
“Dear cousin, since you won't command,
“By G—d you shall obey.
“From every place I'll turn you out,
“Such is our fixt intention;

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“From Portsmouth, from the Ordnance,
“From regiment and pension.”
So this great Duke was turned out,
Whom no two people follow'd;
And then the Torys all rejoic'd,
And then the Whigs all halloo'd.
One man alone in all this land,
Did not much like this story,
Whom I did not except, because
He's neither Whig nor Tory.
To no one party, no one man,
Not to his ownself tight;
For what he voted for at noon,
He rail'd against at night.
A false, suspicious friend was he,
As all the world can tell;
He flatter'd Walpole at Whitehall,
And damn'd him in Pall-mall.

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But what he said in either place,
Ne'er answer'd what he meant:
Offensive was his flattery,
His satire innocent.
This having done for twenty years,
He thought 'twas time to stop;
And having served three 'prenticeships,
Resolv'd to set up shop.
This man so closely stuck t' Argyle,
In this unhappy bout;
That from his Scottish Grace he catch'd
The itch of going out.
For sometime by himself he sat,
Projecting glorious ends;
And then he sent his letters forth,
To summon all his friends.
To them with harsh and horrid voice,
He first the silence broke;
And thus the gaping company,
The peerless Bub bespoke:

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“I sent for you to tell you first
‘Of your poor friend's digrace;
“Walpole, I hear, has vow'd my fall,
“And I must lose my place.
“know not whence his rage proceeds,
“For I appeal to you,
“If he e'er bid me do a thing,
“That I refused to do.
“Then let us to the patriots go,
“And join in all their ends,
“And let us all be Walpole's foes,
“Who never were his friends.
“Oh, Damer, Tucker, Raymond, Steward!
“To Eastbury all welcome;
“Two of you shall for Weymouth serve,
“And two shall serve for Melcomb.

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“And if Sir Robert be so bold
“In combat, to defie us;
“I'll show my strength, and rid the towns
“Of Pierce and of Olmius.
“One-half of Winchelsea is mine,
“And so's Bridgewater too;
“Poole, as you know, my wash-pot is,
“O'er Wells I cast my shoe.
“Thus arm'd, no more I'll fawn and bow,
“As at the Treasury-board;
“But here the world shall all allow,
“I strut like any Lord.

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“Myself I'll to my country give,
“And to the city of London;
“Then, farewell Walpole, farewell Erle,
“And Winnington and Sundon.”
Thus he harangued all his friends,
And still was going on;
When news was brought that our good King
Has turn'd out Bubington.
Oh, to what court will he now go,
To which will he repair;
For he is ill at St. James'-house,
And much worse in the square.

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But should he in the parliament,
By patriotism led;
Unvote his votes of twenty years,
And unsay all he has said,
He'll have but two things left to do,
Both which he'll do, I hope;
Go to the Cocoa Tree at noon,
And sup at night with Pope.