Classic Poem

Dignified things, may I your leaves implore
To kiss your hands and your high heads adore?
Judges you are — but you are something more.
May I draw near and with a rough-hewed pen
Give a small draft of you, the worst of men,
Tell of your merits and your mighty skill
And how your charms all courts of justice fill?
Your laws, far stronger than the Commons' votes,
So finely flow from your dispensing throats,
What Rome will ask, you must not her deny,
If Hell command you, too, you must comply!
There's none but you would in this cause combine —
Things made like men but act like brutes and swine.
Law books are trash, a student — he's a drudge;
Learn to say " yes " — he's an accomplished judge:
He wins the scarlet robe and wears it too,
Aye, and deserves it well, for more's his due —
All that completes a traitor dwells in you.
Thus you like villains to the benches get
And in defiance to the laws you sit,
And all base actions that will please commit.
There must you toil for Rome and also try
Your Irish sense and cobweb policy:
Complete your crimes — and then you're fit to die!
True loyal babes, pimps to the Church of Rome!
Tresilian's heirs, heirs to his crimes and doom!
Was e'er the hall filled up with such a brood
All dipped in treason, villainies, or blood!
Worse than fanatic priests, for they being pressed
By a wise prince preached to repeal the Test.
Then here's the difference 'twixt you popish tools:
Your're downright rogues, they only knaves and fools.