Nor hoping to behold the skies ferene, Wearies with vows the monarch of the main. 45 Upon the HORRID PLOT discovered by HARLEQUIN, the Bishop of ROCHESTER'S French dog *. I In a dialogue between a Whig and a Tory. Afk'd a Whig the other night, How came this wicked plot to light? He answered, that a dog of late Inform'd a minifter of state. Said I, from thence I nothing know; A villain who his friend betrays, We ftyle him by no other phrase; And fo a perjur'd dog denotes Porter, and Prendergaft, and Oates, And forty others I could name. Whig. But you must know, this dog was lame. Tory. A weighty argument indeed! Your evidence was lame :-proceed: 5 10 Come, help your lame dog o'er the flyle. Whig. Sir, you mistake me all this while: (I mean a dog without a joke) Can howl, and bark, but never fpoke. Tory. I'm ftill to feek, which dog you mean; Whether cur Plunket, or whelp Skean, An English, or an Irish hound; Or t'other puppy that was drown'd, Or Mafon, that abandon'd bitch: Then pray be free, and tell me which: 20 See the proceedings in Parliament against Dr Atterbury the Bishop of Rochester, State-trials, vol. 6.-He was tried by the Lords for a plot against the government, deprived of his bishoprick, banished his native country, and died in France, Feb. 15. 1732. For ev'ry flander-by was marking, 25 30 Yet this I dare foretel you from it, 35 He'll foon return to his own vomit. Whig. Befides, this horrid plot was found By Neynoe, after he was drown'd. Tory. Why then the proverb is not right, Since you can teach dead dogs to bite. 40 Whig. I prov'd my propofition full; But Jacobites are ftrangely dull. Refölv'd to fave the British nation, 50 55 Tory. Then all this while have I been bubbled, I thought it was a dog in doublet: The matter now no longer sticks ; For ftatesmen never want dog-tricks, 60 But fince it was a real cur, And not a dog in metaphor, I give you joy of the report, Whig. Yes, and a place he will grow rich in; 65: A turnfpit in the royal kitchen. Sir, to be plain, I tell you what, We guess'd the bishop's foot was in it. Your Bishops all are d-gs indeed. J JOAN CUDGELS NED. Written in the year 1723. Oan cudgels Ned, yet Ned's a bully; Will cudgels Befs, yet Will's a cully.. STELLA at WOOD-PARK. 75 5 A house of CHARLES FORD, Efq; eight miles from Dublin. ·Cuicunque nocere volebat Veftimenta dabat pretiofa. Written in the year 1723 ON Carlos in a merry spite Do Did Stella to his house invite : He entertain’d her half a year The winter-sky began to frown, Poor Stella muft pack off to town; From purling ftreams and fountains bubbling, To* Liffy's ftinking tide at Dublin : From wholefome exercife and air, To foffing in an easy chair: From ftomach fharp, and hearty feeding, 30 To piddle like a lady breeding: • The river that runs thro' Dublin. 35 From ev'ry meal, Pontack in plenty, To half a pint one day in twenty: From Ford who thinks of nothing mean, But now arrives the dismal day; * The coachman ftopt; fhe look'd, and fwore 40 45 Her quarter's out at Ladyday, HOWE'ER, to keep her fpirits up, When all the while you might remark, 60 65 |