Great monuments of charity he raises,

And good St. Magnus whistles out his praises;
To city jails he grants a jubilee,

And hires huzzas from his own mobile.

Lately he wore the golden chain and gown, With which equipp'd he thus harangued the town.

HIS FINE SPEECH, &c.

WITH clouted iron shoes and sheepskin breeches,
More rags than manners, and more dirt than riches;
From driving cows and calves to Laton market,
While of my greatness there appear'd no spark yet;
Behold I come, to let you see the pride,
With which exalted beggars always ride.

Born to the needful labours of the plough, The cart-whip graced me as the chain does now; Nature and fate in doubt what course to take, Whether I should a lord or plough-boy make, Kindly at last resolved they would promote me, And first a knave, and then a knight they vote me: What fate appointed, nature did prepare, And furnish'd me with an exceeding care; To fit me for what they design'd to have me, And ev'ry gift, but honesty, they gave me.

And thus equipp'd, to this proud town I came, In quest of bread, and not in quest of fame; Blind to my future fate, an humble boy, Free from the guilt and glory I enjoy ; The hopes which my ambition entertain❜d, Were in the name of foot-boy all contain’d: The greatest heights from small beginnings rise, The gods were great on earth before they reach'd the skies.

B--well, the generous temper of whose mind Was always to be bountiful inclined;

Whether by his ill fate or fancy led,

First took me up, and furnish'd me with bread :
The little services he put me to,

Seem'd labours rather than were truly so;
But always my advancement he design'd,
For 'twas his very nature to be kind :
Large was his soul, his temper ever free,
The best of masters and of men to me;
And I who was before decreed by fate,
To be made infamous as well as great;
With an obsequious diligence obey'd him,
Till trusted with his all, and then betray'd him.

All his past kindnesses I trampled on,
Ruin'd his fortunes to erect my own:
So vipers in the bosom bred, begin,

To hiss at that hand first which took them in ;
With eager treach'ry I his fall pursued,
And my first trophies were ingratitude.

Ingratitude's the worst of human guilt, The basest action mankind can commit; Which, like the sin against the Holy Ghost, Has least of honour, and of guilt the most: Distinguish'd from all other crimes by this, That 'tis a crime which no man will confess; That sin alone, which should not be forgiven On earth, although perhaps it may in heaven.

Thus my first benefactor I o'erthrew, And how should I be to a second true? The public trust came next into my care, And I to use them scurvily prepare: My needy sov'reign lord I played upon, And lent him many a thousand of his own: For which great interest I took care to charge, And so my ill-got wealth became so large.

My predecessor Judas was a fool,

Fitter to have been whipped and sent to school,
Than sell a Saviour: had I been at hand,
His master had not been so cheap trepann'd;
I would have made the eager Jews have found,
For thirty pieces, thirty thousand pound.

My cousin Ziba, of immortal fame,
(Ziba and I shall never want a name,)
First-born of treason, nobly did advance
His master's fall for his inheritance:

By whose keen arts old David first began,
To break his sacred oath to Jonathan :

The good old king, 'tis thought, was very loath
To break his word, and therefore broke his oath :
Ziba's a traitor of some quality,

Yet Ziba might have been inform'd by me:
Had I been there he ne'er had been content,
With half th' estate, nor half the government.

In our late revolution 'twas thought strange, That I of all mankind should like the change; But they who wonder'd at it never knew, That in it I did my old game pursue;

Nor had they heard of twenty thousand pound, Which ne'er was lost, yet never could be found.

Thus all things in their turn to sale I bring,
God and my master first, and then the king,
Till by successful villanies made bold,
I thought to turn the nation into gold:
And so to forgery my hand I bent,
Not doubting I could gull the government,
But there was ruffled by the parliament;
And if I 'scaped the unhappy tree to climb,
'Twas want of law, and not for want of crime;

But my
old friend who printed in my face,*
A needful competence of English brass;
Having more business yet for me to do,
And loath to lose his trusty servant so,
Managed the matter with such art and skill,
As saved his hero, and threw out the bill.

And now I'm graced with unexpected honours, For which I'll certainly abuse the donors; Knighted and made a tribune of the people, Whose laws and properties I'm like to keep weli, The custos rotulorum of the city,

And captain of the guards of their banditti;
Surrounded by my catchpoles, I declare,
Against the needy debtor open war;

I hang poor thieves for stealing of your pelf,
And suffer none to rob you but myself.

ye,

The king commanded me to help reform And how I'll do't, Miss shall inform ye. I keep the best seraglio in the nation, And hope in time to bring it into fashion; No brimstone-whore need fear the lash from me, That part I'll leave to brother Jefferey: Our gallants need not go abroad to Rome, I'll keep a whoring jubilee at home: Whoring's the darling of my inclination, An't I a magistrate for reformation? For this my praise is sung by ev'ry bard, For which Bridewell would be a just reward; In print my panegyric fills the street, And hired gaol-birds their huzzas repeat; Some charities contrived to make a show, Have taught the needy rabble to do so; Whose empty noise is a mechanic fame, Since for sir Beelzebub they'd do the same.

The devil.

LIFE.

B b