Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/414

( 402 ).

1728.

M. OWN, 'tis not my bread and butter; But prithee, Tim, why all this clutter? Why ever in these raging fits, Damning to Hell the jacobites? When, if you search the kingdom round, There's hardly twenty to be found; No, not among the priests and friars — T. 'Twixt you and me, G—d d—n the liars! M. The tories are gone every man over To our illustrious house of Hanover; From all their conduct this is plain; And then — T. G—d d—n the liars again! Did not an earl but lately vote, To bring in (I could cut his throat) Our whole accounts of publick debts? M. Lord! how this frothy coxcomb frets! [aside. T. Did not an able statesman bishop This dangerous horrid motion dish-up As popish craft? did he not rail on't? Show fire and faggot in the tail on't? Proving the earl a grand offender, And in a plot for the pretender; Whose fleet, 'tis all our friends opinion, Was then embarking at Avignon? M. These