War (to whofe Court all leffer Evils join)
First help'd to circumcife our current Coin.
'Twas a fine Harveft, when the Clipping Race,
To the conniving Government's Difgrace,
Cut short his Majefty within the Ring,

And dock'd his Horfes Tail (God bless the King:)
Then Goldsmiths, Scriv'ners, and the bulky Tribe
Of mony'd Knaves, too numerous to defcribe,
Batten'd apace on this unrighteous Trade,

And at the Realm's Expence large Fortunes made.:
While the poor half-ftarv'd Slaves,that for them wrought,
Within the fatal Toil were daily caught.:
And to relieve them in their Tyburn Qualm,
Troop'd off to the dull Mufick of a Pfalm.

Trade;

The Charge of War out-ballanc'd foon our
As this advanc'd, that palpally decay'd.
And as 'twas ten Years War that ruin'd Troy,
So ten Years War did England's Wealth destroy.
War! fatal War! the Murderer of Trade,
Occafion'd heavy Taxes for its Aid;

It fet Mercurial Heads at work t'invent
Moft eafy Ways to ferve the Government :
NEALE ftarted firft, to raife a fpeedy Sum,
A MILLION-LOTTERY, let who will come,
No Lofs can happen, but most certain Gain;
Sell Lands and Houses, ne'er was such a Main.
This was a general and inviting Bait,
And did fo luckily relieve the State,
That the Groom Porter had Encouragement,
New fpecious Schemes and Projects to invent.

Next, the old Maids and Batch'lers were cajoll'd,
Fourteen per Cent. for Life, and well euroll'd:
They drew their Cafh from Commerce and from Trade,
And lavishly adventur'd on this Aid;

Long may they live, and ftill, (as now) be paid. :
At the Heels of this, Survivorship came in,

Tis hard to flop, tho' eafy to begin)

From Six per Cent, t' increase as Children die:
So promifing a Fund who wou'd not try:?

Thus

Thus eager Parents paid their Money down,
To make their Children Vaffals to the Crown,
And with much Ceremony beg their own.

At last, resolv’d new Methods ftill t' explore,
As if we ne'er cou'd drain the Nation's Store,
The Bank peept up, and all before it bore;
As Rivers dutifully glide to pay

Their liquid Tribute to their Parent Sea.
Nor is it ftrange: Av'rice is alway's wife,
And Profit, fay the Learned, never lies.
Int'reft at Twelve per Cent, for Stock advanc'd,
Stock to One hundred thirty Pounds enhanc'd;
So be that had a Thousand Pounds in there,~
For Thirteen Hundred ftrait cou'd fell his Share;
Prodigious Gain! Such Principal, fuch Ufe
Th' Exchequer pays; what must the Exchequer lofe?
But fay, my Mufe, what Harm was it to Trade,
If the Exchequer Cent. per Cent, had paid,
When the Realm's Wants require a prefent Aid?
It made the Nation's Debt call for Supplies,
By doubting both the Cuftoms and Excifè;
It fram'd the Capitation by Degrees,

Births, Burials, Batchelours, Lights, Lawyers-Fees,
Stock, Money, Titles, empty Houfes pay,
Altho' the Tenants often run awa

All thefe, and many more Inventions join'd
To pamper War, while fickly Trade declin'd
Set up Stock jobbers on the Nation's Back,
Whofe Weight compleated poor Britannia's Wreck.
Thefe Vermin being hatch'd, the num'rous Brood
Increas'd, and fatten'd on the Trades-Man's Blood;
If Tallies were deliver❜d on fome Aid,
Stock jobber fix'd what Money fhou'd be paid.
The Legiflators gave Encouragement >

For Men to work, and trust the Government;
But tho' a general Good they thus defign'd,
Thofe rav'nous Harpies of th' Exchange combin'd
To fruftrate all; deaf to the Nation's Cries,
They its beft Laws turn'd into Merchandize;

DRA

So that poor Tradefmen, for a Hundred Pound,
For Fifty with thefe Rafcals must compound,
Or elfe to Goal; their Wants call for Supply,
And ready Cash at any Rate they'll buy:
Thus all thofe Millions given for Supplies,
Thofe Caterpillars ftill monopolize;

And if we find not out fome speedy Way
To kill thefe Worms that on our Vitals prey,
Commerce, the Nation's Glory, foon will fail,
And half our Traders perish in a Jayl.
Oh! who can bear to fee fo many Hands
Lie idle, like uncultivated Lands;
Devour'd by Want, only to gratify
Senfelefs Revenge and brutish Cruelty?

Rome, whofe imperial Sway the World obey'd,
Juftice the Rule of all her Actions made;
And tho' moft Nations dreaded her Alarms,
Was no lefs Famous for her Laws than Arms,
Among the reft, this juftly claims a Place,
And let not England think it a Difgrace,
The glorious Emprefs of the World to trace.
The Debtor had one Part, the Lender two;
Revenge had nothing; Nothing was her Due.
Credit with us the whole Eftate doth feize,
And on the wretched Debtor's Body preys;
Heav'n's brightest Gift, Compaffion's out of Door ;
And he's a graceless Reprobate that's poor.
In France this Law does ftill maintain a Sway,
If Tradesmen prove incapable to pay,
Six Perfons, of known Truth and Probity,
Make Inqueft what their whole Estate may be:
When this is duly done, two Parts of three
They to the Creditors allotted fee :

And then one Third to Debtor is convey'd,
That he may have fome Stock again to trade.
How worthy Praise are fuch good Acts as these?
Confidering, too, there's not a Penny Fees.
Why should we then our English Laws advance,
And fcornfully expofe the Laws of France?
Since Subjects Fellow-Subjects can destroy,
And rob us of our boasted Liberty.

In

In Holland, if a Creditor thinks fit

His Debtor to a Prifon to commit,

At his own Charge he must maintain him there,
Not let him farve, as Creditors do here.

A Prifon! Heav'ns, I loath the hated Name,
Famine's Metropolis, the Sink of Shame,
A naufeous Sepulchre, whofe craving Womb
Hourly interrs poor Mortals in its Tomb;
By ev'ry Plague and ev'ry Ill poffeft,
Ev'n Purgatory it felf to thee's a Jeft;
Emblem of Hell, Nursery of Vice,
Thou crawling Univerfity of Lice:
Where Wretches numberlefs to ease their Pains,
With Smoak and Ale delude their penfive Chains.
How fhall I thee avoid? Or, with what Spell
Diffolve th' Enchantment of thy Magic Cell ?
Ev'n Fox himfelf can't boaft fo many Martyrs,
As yearly fall within thy wretched Quarters.
Money I've none, and Debts I cannot pay,
Unless my Vermin will thofe Debts defray.
Not fcolding Wife, nor Inquifition's worse;
Thou'rt ev'ry Mischief cramm'd into one Curse.
May we at laft the Senate's Mercy find,

And breathe (what Heav'n bestows on all Mankind;
What needy Clowns as well as Monarchs fhare)
The common Benefit of wholesome Air:
Then to your Clemency we'll Altars raise,
And with united Voice our Benefactors praise.

So pray

Threescore Thousand

To my Friend Mr. Playford, on the Publication of his fecond Book of Pills.

F

'Riend Harry,to prove that your Thoughts were abfurd,
For fuppofing I could not be true to my Word,
According to the Promife which I made long ago,
At laft I have squeez'd out a Couplet or two

In the Praife of your Fills; and tho' my Verfe late is,
Yet believe it's the firft that I ever fent Gratis.

By my Soul, I've been us'd fo to Bolus and Potion,
That I'm ready to fwoon at a Phyfical Notion;
And if you wou'd lend me (that's give) a Jacobus :
I'm perfwaded I cou'd not take Pill Ex Duobus :
However, fince yours have no Turpentine Flavour,
Nor confine a Man close to his righteous Behaviour,
Since no bitter Ingredients give Offence to my Palate,
But they pleafe me like Cheefe which is toasted, or Sallad,
I'll quit making Faces to write Panegyrick,

Tho' I'm not half fo fit for't as M-- for Lyrick.

To begin then, pray take it as Thomas his Sentence, Your Pills will ne'er bring one to Stool of Repentance; But will chace away Sorrow, which will hang on our (Brows,

As a pretty young Girl does a Batchelor's Vows,
Who, at Sight of her Beauty, drowns the Thoughts of
(Mifcarriage,
And, perjur'd, immediately fets up for Marriage.

They're a Cure for a Fav'rite who had handled his Senfes,
And has loft our Good Word by getting his Princes.
The thoughtful Good Statefman, who fits a-la-mort,
Becaufe he's remov'd from Council and Court,
At the Taste of your Med'cines fhall refign up his Grief,
And blefs his Retirement, and bless your Relief.
All Conditions and Sexes, in Country and City,
From thee wou'd be thought Wife, to the really Witty,
From the Lady who speaks all her Words as in Print,
And has Eyes which ftrike Fire like a Steel and a Flint.

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