Classic Poem

1

Tell not me of Lords or Lawes,
Rules or Reformation,
All that's done's not worth two strawes,
To the welfare of the Nation
Men in power do rant it still,
And give no reason but their will,
For all their domination
Or if they do an act that's just,
'Tis not because they would, but must,
To Gratifie some parties lust,
Or meerly for a fashion.

2

Our expence of blood and purse
Has produc'd no profit
Men are still as bad or worse,
And will be what e're comes of it
We've shuffled out, and shuffled in,
The persons, but retain the sin,
To make our game the surer,
Yet spite of all our pains and skill,
The knaves all in the pack are still,
And ever were and ever will,
Though something now demurer.

3

And it cannot but be so,
Since those toys in fashion,
Are of souls so base and low,
And mere Bigots of the Nation,
Whose designs are power and wealth
At which by rapines, fraud and stealth
Audaciously they vent'r ye,
They lay their consciences aside,
And turn with every wind and tide,
Puff'd on by Ignorance and pride,
And all to look like Gentry.

4

Crimes are not punish'd 'cause they're crimes
But 'cause they'r low and little,
Mean men for mean faults in these times
Make satisfaction to a title;
While those in office and in power,
Boldly the underlings devour
Our Cobweb lawes can't hold 'um
They sell for many a Thousand crown,
Things which were never yet their own,
And this is law and custom grown,
'Cause those do judg that sold 'um

5

Brothers still with Brothers brawl,
And for trifles sue 'um,
For two pronouns that spoil all,
Those contentious Meum, Tuum ,
The wary lawyer buyes and builds,
While the Client sells his fields,
To sacrifice to's fury;
And when he thinks to obtain his right,
He's baffled off, or beaten quite,
By th'Judges will or Lawyers slight,
Or ignorance of the Jury.

6

See the trades-man how he thrives
With perpetual trouble,
How he cheats, and how he strives
His Estate t'enlarge and double,
Extort, oppresse, grind and encroach,
To be a Squire, and keep a coach,
And to be one o'th' Quorum
Who may with's brother worships sit,
And judge without law, fear or wit,
Poor petty thieves that nothing get,
And yet are brought before 'um.

7

And his way to get all this
Is mere dissimulation,
No factious lecture does he miss,
And scapes no schism that's in fashion
But with short hair and shining shoes,
He with two pens, and's note-book goes,
And winks and writes at randome;
Thence with short meal and tedious Grace,
In a loud tone and publick place,
Sings Wisdoms hymns, that trot and pace,
As if Goliah scand 'um.

8

But when death begins his threats,
And his Conscience struggles,
To call to mind his former cheats,
Then at heav'n he turns his juggles
And out of all's ill-gotten store,
He gives a dribling to the poor,
In a Hospital or a School-house,
And the suborned Priest for's hire,
Quite frees him from th'infernal fire
And places him i'th' Angels quire,
Thus these Jack-puddings fool us.

9

All he gets by's pains i'th' close,
Is that he dyed worth so much,
Which he on's doubtful seed bestows,
That neither care nor know much,
Then fortunes favorite his heir,
Bred base, and ignorant and bare,
Is blown up like a bubble,
Who wondring at's own suddain rise
By pride, simplicity and vice,
Falls to three sports, drink, drab and dice,
And makes all fly like stubble.

10

And the Church the other twin,
Whose mad zeal enrag'd us,
Is not purifi'd a pin,
By all those broyles in which she engag'd us,
We, our wives turn'd out of doors,
And took in Concubines and whores,
To make an alteration
Our Pulpiteers are proud and bold,
They their own Wills and factions hold,
And sell salvation still for Gold,
And here's our Reformation.

11

'Tis a madness then to make
Thriving our employment,
And lucre love, for Lucres sake,
Since we've possession, not injoyment
Let the times run on their course,
For opposition makes them worse,
We ne're shall better find 'um,
Let Grandees wealth and power engrosse,
And honour too, while we sit close,
And laugh and take our plenteous dose
Of sack and never mind 'um.