[s.I], 1702 A Saytr upon the Times Unhappy York doom'd by Eternal fate To Curst divisions in affares of State. Happy in being under the Brittish Sway But curs'd in being ruled another way When Boors and butterboxes doe pertake of Favors which an English man must Lack When Trade (the brittish Darling) is Supprest And Merchants (under form of Law) opprest When Justice in the hands of Poverty Shall Sacrifice the honest Property When English Laws by Dutchmen shall be made To Ease themselvs and English Subjects Lade, When to Complain of greivances is thought A Crime & to addresse the king a fault When those aggreiv'd (instead of a Redresse are forc'd to find a Goale for their recess When Aldermen return'd themselvs and are Proov'd Perjured yet it does no crime appear Bless my kind heavin and send me farr from hence Where Villaines Triumph under a pretence of Loyalty and make the Laws their tools To Serve their wicked ends and Cherrish fools But tell me Satyr whence these iles proceed and bite the author till thou make him bleed Twas Gold (that curst Temptir that did bribe The grand Ringleader of this hellish Tribe Great by his Title Vile in every action He's gon but has entaild a Curse on's faction A fawning Sycophant has left behind Cunning and Rogue enough to embroyle mankind [2] Devout he Seems as the Religion was His aim, but gold would make him goe to mass But ere I Leave him let him have my curse May he to [Nevis] Pack with Empty Purse And there receive the just rewards of Some He has wrong'd, then be ship'd off to hang at home And now (Dear Satyr) keener whet thy Pen Vennom'd as adders Teeth and bite agin A Crafy knave delivered from a jayle To be a Statesman here who'll never fail The Laws to turn and wind, wher's Intrest Sways And overrule the [barmen] as he please Hes Proud as Lucifer tho poor as job Greedy as [Curberous] mercilesse as the mob Feirce as a Lyon ins judiciall Chair But when he's out as Timersous as a hare And Cowardly he vents his venom'd gall Garded (by king's authority froms fall Me thinks I see this haughty [wight] assend The Bench of Justice where his Looks portend Certain Destruction as a Sacrifice To his malice hatred or his avarice Without he's Scarlet Black at hell within His Eys all fire kindled by his Sinn Have you not seen the horse Leech suck and swell Gorg'd with unwholsome blood he burst and fell May this Vipirous monster thus be curst Swoln up with rank ambition may he burst And if thers such a Place as authors tell Lett him be damn'd to domineer in hell There are some other Villans on the stage That scarce are worthy of Poetick rage A gogle Eyd Serpent from Batavia spring Who if he had his right had Long time hung Thers Hickins Doctins too, but let him passe A Law Dutch quack no better then an asse [3] There is a meager Long backt hell hound too To name no more of the vile Sordid crew Black and Malitious blood runns throw his veins And shaking [nodle] shews his want of brains As for the rest o the Scoundrells let em wait The approaching Change and then Lament their fate Finis [docket] 1702 A Satyr upon the Times