The ADVICE.
WOuld you be famous and renoun'd in Story,
And after having run a Stage of Glory,
Go straight to Heaven, and not to Purgatory:
This is the time.
Would you surrender your Dispensing Power,
And send the Western Hangman to the Tower,
From whence he'll find it difficult to scowre:
This, &c.
Would you send Father Pen, and Father Lob,
Assisted by the Poet Laureat Squab,
To teach obedience passive to the Mobb:
This, &c.
Would you let Reverend Father Peters know
What thanks the Church of England to him owe
For favours past, he did on them bestow:
This, &c.
Would you with expedition send away
Those four dim Lights made Bishops t'other day,
To Convert Indians in America:
This, &c.
Would you the rest of that Bald-pated Train
No longer flatter with thin hopes of Gain,
But send them to St. Omers back again:
This, &c.
Would you (instead of holding Birchen Tool)
Send Pulton to be lash'd at Butby's School,
That he in Print no longer play the Fool:
This, &c.
Would you that Jack of all Religions scare,
Bid him for Hanging speedily prepare,
That Harry H—s may visit Harry Care;
This, &c.
Would you let Ireland no more fear Macdonnel,
And all the Rabble under Philem O Neale,
And Clarendon again succeed Tyrconnel;
This, &c.
Would you Court Ear-wiggs banish from your Ears,
Those Carpet Knights, and Interested Peers,
And rid the Kingdoms from impending fears;
This, &c.
Would you at once make all the Hogan Mogans yield,
And be at once their Terrour and our Shield,
And not appear by Proxy in the Field;
This, &c.
Would you no more a Womans Counsel take,
But love your Kingdoms for your Kingdoms sake,
Make Subjects love, and Fnemies to quake;
This, &c.