Whom they all spurn, and whom they all despise,
Whose very name all satire does comprise?'
An ass, sir? Yes: pray what should make us laugh?
Now he unjustly is our jeer and scoff.
But, if one day he should occasion find
Upon our follies to express his mind;
If Heaven, as once of old, to check proud man,
By miracle should give him speech again;
What would he say, d'ye think, could he speak out,
Nay, sir, betwixt us two, what would he not?
What would he say, were he condemned to stand
For one long hour in Fleet-street, or the Strand,
To cast his eyes upon the motley throng,
The two-legged herd, that daily pass along;
To see their old disguises, furs, and gowns,
Their cassocks, cloaks, lawn sleeves, and pantaloons?
What would he say to see a velvet quack
Walk with the price of forty killed on's back?
Or mounted on a stage, and gaping loud,
Commend his drugs and ratsbane to the crowd?
What would he think on a Lord Mayor's day,
Should he the pomp and pageantry survey?
Or view the judges, and their solemn train,
March with grave decency to kill a man?
What would he think of us, should he appear
In Term amongst the crowds at Westminster,
And there the hellish din and jargon hear,
Where Jeffreys[1] and his pack, with deep-mouthed notes,
Drown Billingsgate and all its oyster-boats?
There see the judges, sergeants, barristers,
Attorneys, counsellors, solicitors,
- ↑ Judge Jeffreys, who is dearly indicated here, (the name, in common with several others, being left blank in the early editions) had not attained his ultimate infamy when this poem was written; but he was sufficiently notorious even then to justify the distinction conferred upon him by the satirist. Shortly before, he had made himself very active in the Duke of York's interest, and had succeeded in a cause respecting the Post-office, of considerable importance to his Royal Highness's revenues. He was knighted in 1680, and made chief justice and a baronet in 1681.
