Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/363

Rh And I find it answers right: Scorn torments them more than spite. All the vices of a court Do but serve to make me sport. [Were I in some foreign realm, Which all vices overwhelm; Should a monkey wear a crown, Must I tremble at his frown? Could I not, through all his ermine, 'Spy the strutting, chattering vermin? Safely write a smart lampoon, To expose the brisk baboon ?] When my Muse officious ventures On the nation's representers: Teaching by what golden rules Into knaves they turn their fools: How the helm is rul'd by Walpole, At whose oars, like slaves, they all pull; Let the vessel split on shelves; With the freight enrich themselves: Safe within my little wherry, All their madness makes me merry: Like the watermen of Thames, I row by, and call them names; Like the ever-laughing sage, In a jest I spend my rage: (Though it must be understood, I would hang them, if I could) If I can but fill my niche, I attempt no higher pitch; Leave to d'Anvers and his mate Maxims wise to rule the state. Pulteney