Whose Rage my Ruin only can appease; That motley Crew, the Scum of ev'ry Sect, Who'd fain destroy, because they can't direct; Wits, Common-Council-Men, and Brutes in Fur, Knights of the Shire, and of the Post.--_E. M._ This, Sir, Is _Gazetteer_ Abuse. _G. M._ These Miscreants dire Apply the Torch themselves, then cry out Fire; In Rhime, in Prose, in Prints, and in Debate, They falsly represent the Nation's State. Go forth, and see if _Britain_'s fall'n _so low_; Fly to her Coasts, and mark the glorious _Show_: See Fleets how gallant! See _Marines_ how _stout_! } That wait but till the _Wind shall turn about_. } _E. M._ What a whole _Twelvemonth_! _G. M._ Pray Sir, hear me out. } See all their Sails unfurl'd, their Streamers play; You'd think old _Neptune_'s Self kept Holiday: These shall protect our Commerce, scour the Main, The Honour of the _British_ Flag maintain; Pour the avenging Thunder on the Foe, } And--_E. M._ Mighty well; but when are they to go? } _G. M._ When? Psha! why look'ee, Sir, that _Time_ will show. } Next view the martial Guardians of the Land: Lo! her gay Warriors redden all the Strand: _Cockade_ behind _Cockade_, each Entrance keep, Whilst in their Sheaths ten thousand Falchions _sleep_. _E. M._ But, Sir, 'tis urg'd that these are needless quite, Kept only for Review, and not for Fight: That Fleets are _Britain_'s Safety--_G. M._ Stupid Elves! Why these, Sir, are to _save you_ from _yourselves_: Ye're prone, ye're prone to murmur and rebel, And when mild Methods fail, we must compel: Besides, consider Sir, _th' Election_'s near-- _E. M._--O, Sir, I'm answer'd--Now the _Case_ is _clear_. _G. M._ Ay,--I shall answer all the rest as well. _E. M._ I doubt it not. _G. M._ On _Se--s_ next you fell: Fie! that was paw--_Se--s_ are _sacred_ Things, And _no more_ capable of _Ill_ than--_Kings_. _E. M._ 'Tis granted. _G. M._ Yet at them your Gall is spit; You're told they _Yea_ and _No_ as I think fit; And that if some brave _One_ Rebellious prov'd, From his Lord's Banquet he was strait remov'd; Cast into utter Darkness, like the Guest, Who was not in a _Wedding Garment_ Dress'd. Well, What of that? should not the _Blind_ be led? Should not so vast a _Body_ have a _Head_? And if _one Finger's gangreen'd_, sure 'tis best To lop it off 'ere it infect the rest. _Free_ P----ts! mere stuff--What would be done? Let loose, five hundred diff'rent Ways they'd run; They'd Cavil, Jarr, Dispute, O'return, Project, And the great Bus'ness of _Supply_ Neglect; On _Grievances_, not _Ways_ and _Means_ would go; Nor one round _Vote of Credit_ e're bestow: The _sinking Fund_ would _strangely_ be apply'd, And _secret service Money_ quite denied: Whilst _Soap_ and _Candles_ we _untax_'d should rue, And _Salt_ itself would lose it's _Savour_ too: