Oh deign to state with just precision (Reveal'd to thy prophetic vision, And current in anticipation) The sum, exceeding calculation, Of public happiness accruing Shew how the wreck of ranks and orders If we convert the realm to chäos Shew how, in cutting off a Crown'd Head, The Rights of Citizens are founded! As Spain's Jack Ketch of ancient date, ""TIS FOR YOUR GOOD THAT I BEHEAD YE!" opposite to the king in battle, he would discharge his piece into his bosom as soon as into any other man's. I go farther; had I lived in those days, I would not have waited for chance to give me an opportunity of doing my duty; I would have sought him through the ranks, and, without the least personal enmity, have discharged my piece into his bosom rather than into any other man's J. H. Tooke's Letter to Junius. Let none contemn as tainted trash Yet since Fried Cabbage, or, what's worse To some folks, Frícando of verse Likely to parch the epiglottis Let me an antidote suggest Which all allow-" probatum est." Of old Oporto bumpers nine Quaff to the Muses' healths and mine! A SECOND COURSE to th' self-same tune.— Cheaper you'll no where read or eat; END OF THE FIRST PART. |