Extremes in nature, prove the fame,
The profligate is dead to fhame,
No conscious pangs enfue;

Satire can't wound the virtuous heart,
Nor SAVILE feel her venom'd dart,

No more, my Lord, than you.

To 'peach th' accomplice of one's crimes,
A gracious pardon, gains fometimes
When treachery recommends;

For you, my Lord, its clearly feen,
How close the facred tye between

King's evidence and friends!

IV.

With HARLEY's gang you job and curse,
Vile contracts + drain the nation's purse,
To bribe such fawning dogs;
Commerce and glory's out of date,
And Britain's thunder guard's a freight
Of pickles, crout, and hogs.

V.

+ Many of the addreffes are the fpurious fpawn of con, tracts.

V.

Sir Peter's fpirit you invoke,
To fanction a forecastle joke,

And Yankies rob of glory;

Yet faith I think your lordship right,
As dead-men I can't gainfay, or fight,
To make him vouch your story.

VI.

Employ again that magic spell,

Which charm'd the French at Aix-Chapelle §,

And civil war shall ceafe ;

Some coalition now you're hatching,
We know your Lordship's skill in patching
-Up rotten fhips,-or peace!

VII.

To fons of tweedle-dum and dee,

You fling your gold,---foft nymphs with glee

Em

Sir Peter Warren's ghoft was conjured up by Lord S. to Countenance his own falfe and malignant reflections on the behaviour of the Americans, at the fiege of Louisburgh in 1746.

The honourable hoftage peace, which, according to Lord Sandwich's boast, descended like the heavenly manna, from the clouds.

Embrace you round the middle;
Ship-wrights and captains well deserve,
In Yorkshire, ---or in dock, to ftarve,
'They neither fing or fiddle.

VIII.

Your moral fenfe, my Lord, is nice,
The public good of private vice,

You prove to all the realm;
In pointed lays, I fing the man,
Who acting on this || ethic plan,
Muft well deferve the helm!

IX.

The truth from GAGE, or GRAVES, you dread, A fword fufpended o'er your head,

Can Kidgell footh your woes!

*

In vain you tempt Jack Wilkes to dine,
By copious draughts of chalic'd wine,
And anthems to Moll's Rofe !

X.

Lord S. even from his boyish years, has always acted on Mandeville's fyftem, fo finely elucidated in the Fable of the

Bees.

Dashwood fhall pour from a communion cup

Libations to the goddefs without eyes,

And hob, or nob in cyder and excise.

CHURCHILL.

No more will Britain's Neptune vapour,
Te Deum fing o'er + Miller's Paper,
Or laugh at Spain's alarms:

Alas his buckram fleet is funk,

And the King's coufins hawl him drunk,
From Thetis' § golden arms.

Your Lordship cannot tell-tho' willing
To fhine a Financier :

When your Tea duties cash produce,

You'll turn them to fome noble use,
Nor dream of taxing beer.

VOL. II.

F

The London Evening Poft.

II.

The Hon. Mr. Luttrel, who may perhaps impeach his Lordship.

§ Homer calls Thetis, filver-footed. The epither golden arms is not claffical, tho' it may have a political meaning, and allude to fome anecdotes of our British Neptune's miftrefs.

II.

To glorious deeds, O NORTH! aspire,
And I'll unftring my fneering lyre,
If you act right and handsome:
On the poor Yankies deign to fmile-
We fret no more for Falkland's ifle,
Or the Manilla ranfom.

III.

Quack med'cines but increase our ills;
For MANSFIELD's drops and vile Scotch pills,
Too dear the nation pays;

Our fov'reign fick, and worn with cares,
Will kick his doctors down the stairs,

And fend again to HAYES.

IV.

CAMDEN fhall head the learned band,
With magna charta in his hand,

And comments Locke hath writ;
Let drawling APSLEY nod and doze,
And early creep to dull repose,
Efcap'd from BATHURST's wit.

V.

Can penal acts the faints fubdue,

Or breach of charters trade renew,

Tho