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awake? Why, what is this, and whence,
 * O ye right loyal men, all undefiled?

Sure, 'tis not possible that Common Sense
 * Has hitch'd her pullies to each heavy eye-lid?

Yet wherefore else that start, which discomposes
 * The drowsy waters lingering in your eye?
 * And are you really able to descry

That precipice three yards beyond your noses?

Yet flatter you I cannot, that your wit
 * Is much improved by this long loyal dosing;

And I admire, no more than Mr. , Your jumps and starts of patriotic prosing—

Now cluttering to the Treasury Cluck, like chicken,
 * Now with small beaks the ravenous Bill opposing;

With serpent-tongue now stinging, and now licking,
 * Now semi-sibilant, now smoothly glozing—