"And to affume without affent,
"Is force, not legal government.””
As to your fimile of fize,

They'll fay your brains are in your eyes.

But now go on..

'S QUIRE.

Their next affertion

You'll find affords me more diverfion.

For how fhould men be e'er born free,
When to be born is flavery,

125:

130)

Ver. 124.) So Locke.

"Government, into whatfo

"ever hands it is put, being intrusted with this condition, "and for this end, that men might have and fecure their "properties, the prince or fenate, however it may have "power to make laws for the regulating of property be"tween the subjects one amongst another, yet can never "have a power to take to themselves the whole or any part "of the fubjects property without their own confent, for this "would be in effect to leave them no property at all." Ch. XI. fec. 139.

DEAN.

DEAN.

Yet, when begot, in my opinion,
He's then the heir to self-dominion;
Has right both to be born and bred,
To fuck the breast-

He has. Nay more, I'd have you know,
Protection, while in embryo,

Is his, e'er you can justly date
His quafi-compact with the state.
Once, Sir, I knew a pious lady,
Who, juft as fhe was getting ready

140

145

For church, one Eafter-Sunday morn,

With labour-pains was forely torn.

The church, good foul! she lov'd fo dearly,
That with her spouse the chose to parley;

150

Nor

Ver. 143.) "Children are entitled to protection, whilft "in embryo, though they neither did nor could enter into "any compact with the ftate for that purpose." Tucker on Civil Government, p. 2. I have taken the liberty to add the term quafi in my verfion of this paffige, to make it more analogous to the learned writer's general fentiments, who allows of no compact, but what he is pleafed to term

.

Nor would the let the midwife lay her,
Till she had been at morning prayer;
When, lo! in midst of all this fray,
Before mamma had time to pray,
Her heir, a free-born British boy,
Bolted to light and liberty.

'S QUIRE.

Your story, Mr. Dean, is pleafant,
And wrapt withal, in terms right decent.
Yet vainly fure fuch proof you bring;
One swallow does not make a spring.
I fay, in spite of your strange tale,
For full nine months he lies in jail.
And what a jail! fo little roomy,
So dark, fo folitary, and fo gloomy.
Howard, who ev'ry prison knows,
Ne'er ventur'd there to thrust his nofe.
Yet there he lies, unlucky wight!
Depriv'd of funshine and of fight,
Floating in brine, like a young porpus,
Till, by obftetric HABEUS CORPUS,
The brat is pluck'd to liberty.
But, tell me, is fuch freedom free?

In fwaddling clothes he now is bound,

155

160

165

170

Like Styx, that gird him nine times round; 175

Ver. 174.) Tho' fate had faft bound her,

With Styx nine times round her.

They

Pope's Ode on St. Cæcilia's Day.

1

They squeeze his navel, press his head,
Feed him with water and with bread.
Thus nine months more he lies in chains,
And, when his freedom he regains,
He puts it to fo bad a use,

'Tis found he must not yet go loose.
Tyrannic nurse then claims her right

To plague him both by day and night.
Then grave as Pope, and gruff as Turk,
Prelatic schoolmafter, like York,

180

Thrashes the wretch with grammar's flail, 185
To mend his head corrects his tail,
And this with moft defpotic fury,
Heedlefs of mercy, law, and jury.

DEAN.

Sir, you've a happy vein for fatire,
And touch it with a main du maitre.
Yet why, Sir, treat mild M*****m thus ?

His grace, you know, is one of us..

'S QUIRE.

I ask his pardon. At the time

He chanc'd to hitch into my rhyme

190

But

Ver. 194.) Had not this unlucky bolt been fhot by the 'Squire, it is probable the Dean would not have been thrown

off

But to our point-thus far I've stated,
The boy is born and educated;
And now he walks the world at large;
Yet has he got a free discharge ?
No; volens nolens, as at fchool,
He ftill muft yield to civil rule;
A fubject born, he's fubject ftill,
Not govern'd by his mere felf-will;
But, if he breaks the laws in force,
Or kills his man, or steals a horse,

195

200