“Next him an infant comes, a Babe of Grace, And steps into his abdicated place, Where from his throne he, lisping out aloud, In words like these bespoke the noisy crowd. ‘You’re govern’d, sirs, but by uncommon rules, If you elect such men as are not fools. In hopes of this, this doubtful stage I enter, And at much cost on an election venture. I hope you’ve read the letter which I sent, Design’d each silly sot to circumvent. Tho’ I’m a Child,[32] my parts are come to age, And for my sense the monied men engage: Both kings and people have esteemed it fit, That those who have most money have most wit. Men they are pleas’d with great and manly toys, But baubles are the true delight of boys. I hate of Barons the renownèd Tales And recommend you to the Prince of Wales. Who in the Senate I will move to come Into our Church from the curst See of Rome; Where he shall hector like the Son of Priam, And be as wise a Protestant as I am.’” The sentiments put into the mouths of the candidates contain enlightenment upon city matters, as well as upon prominent citizens, both under the reign of William III. and his predecessors from the Restoration. Another candidate is thinly disguised under the nickname of “the Czar.” He is made to thus candidly address the “medley voting crowd:”-- “This City fam’d for Aldermen and Mayors, The best intrusted with the public cares, In former ages have obtained renown, Great as the deeds our Ancestors have done. I, tho’ of mean descent, and void of fame, My ancestors obscure in birth and name, By gold ennobl’d, am come here to serve ye As once I did my master--that’s to starve ye. E’er I a representative commence, I’ll make confession here of all my sins; I _Judas_ first for my just pattern took, Betray’d my master, and his cause forsook. This made me rise, as other courtiers do, T’ attempt high Crimes, and Villainies pursue. _Jemmy_ a special Banker had in me, His coin lay safe as in his Treasury: It was no cheat his money to purloin, He knew not how, alas, to use his coin. My breach of promise is so small a fault, That no wise man can wonder at. But that you might not of my wit complain, I’ve been a cheat in every monarch’s reign. When paper was equivalent to gold, And paper-skulls their paper-credit sold, I, by my cunning and my wise designing, Soon got the modern art of paper-coining.” The poetaster has nothing but good repute to shower on the late representatives of the city of London; he bids his Muse--