Targets outside the three theatrical companies are chosen from among the obvious ones already attacked by Pope. Mrs. Haywood, who in 1742 had turned publisher under the sign of "Fame," is shown (p. 21) appropriately enough as the first dunce to recognize the Goddess of Puffs. "The Chief of the translating Bards" (p. 23) is the aged and industrious Ozell, and his fellows include Theobald and Thomas Cooke (p. 24).[11] The satire extends to touch the Administration and the City, with references to Britain's hitherto inactive part in the War of the Austrian Succession (p. 9) and to the manner in which stock-jobbers used false war news to aid their financial speculations (p. 4). It alludes to the "grand Debate" (p. 8) of the committee set up in March 1742 to consider charges of corruption against the deposed Walpole (created Lord Orford in February), which by the end of the summer had fizzled out, doubtless because so many members of the new government, including the numerous "Peers new-made" (p. 9), had shared Walpole's peculations and wished to cover their tracks. When it hits at the King for his patronage of Cibber (p. 13), at the Queen for her ridiculous Merlin's Cave and waxworks in Richmond Gardens (p. 16),[12] and at the _Daily Gazeteer_ which, until Walpole's fall, had been expensively subsidized from the government secret service fund and had numbered among its journalists such highly placed statesmen as Walpole's brother Horatio--then, _The Scribleriad_ suggests, there is a general conspiracy between high ranks and low to encourage Dulness. The Hervey-Cibber alliance is merely the most recent manifestation of this conspiracy. Although it so obviously arises immediately out of the pamphlet battle of summer 1742, _The Scribleriad_ manages to range more widely in its satire than the anti-Pope lampoons it replies to. Further, it contrives to bring in Pope himself without degrading him to the level of his antagonists. This is done by mounting him on Pegasus and likening the dunces to curs (pp. 13-14), or comparing him to the sun whose warmth hatches out maggots (pp. 6, 29): How many, who have Reams of Paper spoil'd, Have often sleepless Nights obscurely toil'd, And buried in their Eggs, like Silkworms, lay 'Till his warm Satire shew'd them Life and Day? Here then, my Sons, is all your living Hope, To be immortal Scriblers, rail at POPE. The image, the attitude and the phrasing alike are borrowed from Pope, for _The Scribleriad_ is highly derivative throughout. Only two or three times does "Scriblerus" improve at all upon the many hints he steals from Pope. I have already mentioned the Goddess Puffs, but other happy touches are to be found in a spirited travesty (pp. 16-17) of the opening lines from Ovid's _Metamorphoses_, Book XIII:[13] The Chiefs were sate, the Scriblers waited round * * * * * When he, the Master of the Seven-fold Face, Rose gleaming thro' his own _Corinthian_ Brass.