The Whig-intelligencer

Hark! the fatal day is come,
Fatal as the day of Doom,
For Sir Samuel there make room,
So fam'd for Ignoramus:
He whose Conscience cou'd allow
Such large favours you know how,
If we do him Justice now,
The Brethren will not blame us.

Stand to the Bar, and now advance,
Morden, Kenrick, Otes and Prance,
But let the Foreman lead the Dance,
The rest in course will follow;
Tilden, Kenrick, next shall come,
And with him receive their Doom,
Ten Thousand pound, at which round Sum
The Hall set up a Halloo.

Brave Sir Barnard—on now,
Who no Main would er'e allow
To lose ten thousand at a throw,
Was pleas'd to all mens thinking:
Ten thousand pounds! a dismal note,
Who before had giv'n his Vote,
Not to give the KING a Groat,
To save the Throne from sinking.

But yet there's a Remedy,
Before the KING shall get by me,
I'll quit my darling Liberty;
Nor will I give in Bail for't:
For e're the Crown shall get a Groat
In opposition to my Vote,
I'll give 'em leave to cut my Throat,
Altho' I lye in Goal for't.

Were't for Monmouth, I'de not grieve,
Or Brave Russel to retrieve,
Or that Sidney yet might live,
Twice told, I'd not complain, Sir:
Nay, what's more, my whole Estate,
With my Bodkins, Spoons, and Plate,
So I might reduce the State
To a Commonwealth again, Sir.

Or that Mon. were in Grace,
Or Sir Sam. in Jeffery's place,
To spit his Justice in the Face,
For acting Law and Reason,
Or that the Torys went to pot,
Or we could prove it a Sham Plot,
Or Essex did not cut his Throat;
Or Plotting were not Treason.

Thus I'd freely quit my Coyn;
But with Torys to combine,
Or keep the Heir in the right Line,
That Popery be in fashion,
To see the Holy Cause run down,
While Mighty York is next the Crown,
And Perkin's fore'd to flye the Town:
Oh vile Abomination!

Sooner than Obedience owe
To their Arbitrary Law,
Or my Bail in danger draw,
For Breach of good Behaviour;
I with Bethel, and the rest
O' th' Birds, in Cage will make my Nest,
And keep my Fine to Plot and Feast,
Till Monmouth be in Favour.