O worse, Sir, worse--Heav'n knows where it might end.

Perhaps _Ourself_ and our dear _Brother_ too, No longer might our Country's Business do--

_E. M._ That, Sir, you've done already--rather, then, _Your_ Business would be done. _G. M._ Ungrateful Men!

We that have serv'd you at such vast Expence, } And gone thro' thick and thin. _E. M._ There's no Defence, } Would serve your Purpose--Hence, then, good Sirs, Hence; } Fly, for the Evil Days at Hand, Pray fly-- _G. M._ What leave my Country to be _lost_?--Not I; The Danger's yet but in Imagination, I hope one _Seven Years more_ to _save_ the Nation.

In vain you Patriot Oafs p.r.o.nounce my Fall, Like the great LAUREAT, _S'Blood I'll stand you all_.

What tho' you've made the _People_ loath my Name, I live not on such slender Food as Fame; And yet that _People_'s _mine_--My Will obey, } Implicit Bow beneath my sovereign Sway, } Whilst these my _Messengers_ prepare my Way; } These all your Slanders will at Sight refute, They're sterling Evidence which none dispute.

For these, Content, or to be d.a.m.n'd or Sav'd-- _E. M._--Nay if they will, why let 'em be enslav'd: If they will barter all that's Good and Great, For present Pelf, nor Mind their future State; If none Thy baleful Influence will withstand, Go forth, _Corruption_, Lord it o'er the Land; If they are Thine for better and for worse, On Them and on their Children light the Curse.

_G. M._ _Corruption_, Sir!--pray use a milder Term; 'Tis only a Memento to be _firm_; The Times are greatly alter'd--Years ago, A Man would blush the World his _Price_ should know: Scruple to own his _Voice_ was to be bought; And meanly minded what the Million thought; Our Age more _Prudent_, and _Sincere_ is grown, The Hire they _wisely_ take, they _bravely_ own; Laugh at the Fool, who let's his _Conscience_ stand, To barr his Pa.s.sage to the promis'd Land; Or, sway'd by Prejudice, or puny Pride, Thinks _Right_ and _Int'rest_ of a different Side.

_E. M._ _O Nation_ lost to Honour and to Shame!

So, then, Corruption now has chang'd its Name: And what was once a paultry _Bribe_, to Day Is gently stil'd an _Honourable_ Pay.

Blessings on that great Genius who has wrought This strange Conversion--Who has bravely bought Our Liberty from Virtue--Pray go on.

_G. M._ Of Commerce next you talk--pretend 'tis gone, To _Foreign_ Climes--_Amen_, for what I care, Perdition on the Merchants--They must dare!

To thwart my Purpose--I detest them--_E. M._ How!

_G. M._ Yes--And I think I'm _even_ with 'em now.

They would not be _convention'd_, nor _excis'd_, But they shall feel the Scourge themselves advis'd; They shall be swingingly _bewarr'd_, I'll swear; And since they'd not my _little Finger_ bear, My _Loins_ shall press 'em 'till they guilty plead, And sue for Mercy at my Feet. _E. M._ Indeed!

_G. M._ Aye, trust me, shall they----_E. M._ But don't tell 'em so; } For they're a stubborn _st.u.r.dy_ Gang you know, } _G. M._ O! they'll be _supple_ when their Cash runs low.

Their _Purse_, which makes them proud and insolent, A trav'ling with their Commerce shall be sent-- _E. M._ Take Care they don't send _you_ a trav'ling first; _G. M._ No, Sir, I dare 'em now to do their Worst.

_Seven Sessions_ more I am at least secure-- _E. M._ Nay then you'll crush 'em quite?--But are you sure, There is a _Spirit_, Sir? _G. M._ What Spirit pray?

A _Spirit_ that the _Treasury_ can't lay.

_E. M._ I'm answer'd Sir,--_G. M._ Next, Friend, one Word about Those spiteful Innuendoes you throw out, That squint at _Contracts_, _Forage_, and what not, 'Tis _more_ than Time that those Things were forgot.

You should not link the _present_ with the _past_-- _E. M._ Yes when they make one _glorious Whole_ at last; When, tho' _Times differ_, _Actions_ still _agree_, And what Men _were_ they _are_--What they _will_ be, We safely may p.r.o.nounce--_G. M._ Well, Sir, but why On my dear Family and Friends this Cry?

Suppose they've Places, Wealth, and t.i.tles too, _Merit_ like Ours should surely have its _Due_.

That _squaemish_ Steward's of all Fools the worst, That lays not up for his _own Houshold_ first; Nor takes a _proper_ Care of those _staunch_ Friends, By whose _good Services_ he gains his Ends.

Besides, who'd drudge the _Mill-Horse_ of the State; Curst by the Vulgar, envy'd by the Great; In one fastidious Round of Hurry live, And join, in Toil, the _Matin_ with the _Eve_; Be hourly plagu'd 'bout Pensions, Strings, Translations, Or, worse! that _d.a.m.n'd Affair_ of _Foreign_ Nations.

Make _War_ and _Treaties_ with alternate Pain: First sweat to build, then to pull down again.

Who'd cringe at _Levees_, or in _Closets_--Oh!

Stoop to the _rough_ Remonstrance of the _Toe_?

Did not some Genius whisper, "That's the Road "To Opulence, and Honours bless'd Abode; "Thus you may aggrandize yourself, and Race; "_Pension_ this _Knight_, or give that _Peer_ a _Place_."

_E. M._ So _Angria_, Sir, as justly might declare, He _plunder'd_ only to _enrich_ his _Heir_; Nor longer would his _Piracies_ pursue, Than 'till he had _provided_ for his _Crew_.

_G. M._ Your Servant, Sir, I think you're pretty _free_-- } _E. M._ Why Truth is Truth, Sir, and will out, you see; } _G. M._ Yes, s'death! but _couple Angria_ with _me_!

_E. M._ I'll say no more on't--_G. M._ No you've said _enough_; And what you next advise, is canting Stuff.

_Turn my Eyes inward_! not quite so devout; They've Task sufficient to look sharp _without_: And should the fatal Sisters cut my Thread Some _score Years_ hence--I trouble not my Head } _Where_ I'm entomb'd, or number'd with _what_ Dead; } I want no _Grave-Stone_ to promulge my _Fame_, Nor trust to _breathless Marble_ for a _Name_, BRITANNIA'S self a _Monument_ shall stand Of the _bless'd Dowry_ I bequeath my Land: Her Sons shall hourly my _dear Conduct_ boast; They _best_ can speak it, who will _feel_ it most.

But if some grateful Verse _must_ grace my Urn, Attend ye _Gazeteers_--Be this the Turn-- _Weep_, Britons, _weep_--_Beneath this Stone lies He, Who set your Isle from dire Divisions free, } And made your various Factions all agree_. }

_E. M._ That's right, _G. M._ You'd have me quit too--No, I'll still Drive on, and make you happy '_gainst your Will_.

As for your _may_ and _may_, Sir,--_may be Not_, Can my _vast Services_ be _There_ forgot?

As for those _lauded Successors_ you name, If once in Pow'r, they'd act the very _same._ _E. M._ That's Cobweb Sophistry--Did they not fill The n.o.blest Posts? And had they not, pray, _still_, But that they greatly scorn'd to _league_ with those, Who were at once their King's and Country's Foes?

_G. M._ Well, Sir, as there is nothing I can say Will with your starch'd unbending Temper weigh; My last _best_ Answer I'll in _Writing_ leave; Pray mark it--_E. M._ How! May I my Eyes believe?

_G. M._ You may--I thought I should convince you, _E. M._ Yes, That Fame for once spoke Truth--And as for _This_-- _G. M._ Furies! My _thousand Bank_, Sir, _E. M._ Thus I Tear, Go, blend, _Corruption_, with _corrupting_ Air.

_G. M._ Amazing Frenzie! Well, if this won't do, What think you of a _Pension_? _E. M._ As of _You_.

_G. M._ A _Place_--_E. M._ Be gone, _G. M._ A _t.i.tle_--_E. M._ is a _Lie_ When ill conferr'd _G. M._ A _Ribband_--_E. M._ I defie Farewell then Fool--If you'll accept of _Neither_, You and your _Country_ may be _d.a.m.n'd_ together.

FINISH