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In all professions, time and pains give skill; Without hard study dare physicians kill? Can he that ne'er read statutes or reports, Gire chamber counsel, or urge law in courts! But eyery whipster knows affairs of state, Nor fears on nicest subjects to debate. A knight of eighteen hundred pounds a year Who minds his head, if his estate be clear? 440 Sure he may speak his mind, and tell the house He matters not the government a louse. Lack-learning knights, these things are safely said . To friends in private, at the Bedford-head; But in the house, before your tongue runs on, Consult sir James, lord William's dead and gone. Words to recall is in no member's power, One single word may send you to the Tower.
The wrong'd to help, the lawless to restrain, Thrice every year in ancient Egbert's reign, 600 The members to the Mitchelgemot went, In after-ages called the Parliament; Early the Mitchelgemot did begin T'inroll their statutes on a parchment skin : For inpious treason hence no room was left, For nfurder, for polygamy, or theft: Since when the senate's power both sexes know From hops and claret, soap and callico. Now wholesome laws young senators bring in 'Gainst gaols, attorneys, bribery, and gin: tho
Since such the nature of the British state,
of Parliament so old and great,
Some doubt, which to a seat has best pretence,
A man of busʼness won't 'till evening dine, Abstains from women, company, and wine : From Fig's new theatre he'll miss a night, Though cocks, and bulls, and Irish women fight: Nor sultry sun, nor storms of soaking rain, The man of bus'ness from the house detain : Nor speaks he for no reason but to say, I am a member, and I spoke to-day. I speak sometimes, you'll hear his lordship cry, 480 Because some speak that have less sense than I.
The man that has both land and money too,
But at a feast 'tis difficult to know,
Alderman Pond, a downright honest man,
of mighty interest to brag, And polf two voices like sir Robert Fag.
Parliamenteering is a sort of itch,
He keeps a public-house without a sign.
520 EPISTLE XI.
TO WILLIAM WYNDHAM, ESQ.
OF FELBRIG, NORFOLK.
The art of converse, how to sooth the soul