Judas that pays the Treafon-writer's Fee,
Judas that well deferves his Namefake's Tree;
Who at Jerufalem's own Gates erects
His College for a Nursery of Sects.

Young Prophets with an early Care fecures,
And with the Dung of his own Arts manures.
What have the Men of Hebron here to do?
What part in Ifrael's promis'd Land have you!
Here Phaleg the Lay-Hebronite is come,
'Caufe like the rest he cou'd not live at Home;
Who from his own Poffeffions cou'd not drain
An Omer even of Hebronitish Grain,

Here ftruts it like a Patriot, and talks high
Of injur'd Subje&s, alter'd Property:

An Emblem of that buzzing Infect juft,

That mounts the Wheel, and thinks fhe raifes Duft.
Can dry Bones live? or Skeletons produce
The Vital Warmth of Cuckoldizing Juice?
Slim Phaleg cou'd, and at the Table féd,
Return'd the grateful Product to the Bed.
A Waiting-man to Trav'ling Nobles chofe,
He, his own Laws, wou'd fawcily impose;
'Till Baftinado'd back again he went,
To learn thofe Manners he to teach was fent.
Chaftiz'd he ought to have retreated Home,
But he reads Politicks to Abfalom.

For never Hebronite, though kick'd and fcorn'd,
To his own Country willingly return'd.
----But leaving famifh'd Fhaleg to be fed,
And to talk Treafon for his daily Bread,
Let Hebron, nay let Hell produce a Man
So made for Mifchief as Ben-Jochanan,
A Jew of Humble Parentage was He,
By Trade a Levite, though of low Degree:
His Pride no higher than the Desk aspir'd,
But for the Drudgery of Priefts was hir'd
To Read and Pray in Linen Ephod brave,
And pick up fingle Shekels from the Grave,

Married at last, but finding Charge come faster,
He cou'd not live by God, but chang'd his Mafter:
Infpir'd by Want, was made a Factious Tool,
They got a Villain, and we loft a Fool.
Still violent, whatever Cause he took,
But most against the Party he forsook.
For Renegadoes, who ne'er turn by halves,
Are bound in Confcience to be double Knaves.
So this Profe-Prophet took moft monstrous Pains,
To let his Mafters fee he earn'd his Gains.
But as the Dev'l owes all his Imps a Shame,
He chofe th' Apoftate for his proper Theme;
With little Pains he made the Picture true,
And from Reflexion took the Rogue he drew.
A wondrous Work, to prove the Jewish Nation
In every Age a Murmuring Generation,

To trace 'em from their Infancy of Sinning,
And fhew 'em Factious from their firft Beginning.
To prove they cou'd Rebel, and Rail, and Mock, .
Much to the Credit of the Chofen Flock;
A ftrong Authority which must convince,
That Saints own no Allegiance to their Prince.
As 'tis a Leading-Card to make a Whore,
To prove her Mother had turn'd up before.
But, tell me, did the drunken Patriarch blefs
The Son that fhew'd his Father's Nakedness?
Such Thanks the present Church thy Pen will give,
Which proves Rebellion was fo Primitive.
Muft Ancient Failings be Examples made?
Then Murtherers from Cain may learn their Trade.
As thou the Heathen and the Saint haft drawn,
Methinks th' Apoftate was the better Man:
And thy hot Father (waying my respect)
Not of a Mother Church, but of a Sect.
And fuch he needs must be of thy Inditing,
This comes of drinking Affes Milk and Writing,
If Balack fhould be call'd to leave his place,
(As Profit is the loudeft Call of Grace)

His Temple difpoffefs'd of one, would be
Replenish'd with seven Devils more by thee.
Levi,-thou art a load, I'll lay thee down,
And fhew Rebellion bare, without a Gown ;
Poor Slaves in Metre, Dull and Addle-pated,
Who Rhime below ev'n David's Pfalms tranflated.
Some in my fpeedy pace I muft out-run,

As lame Aephibofheth the Wifard's Son:

To make quick way I'll leap o'er heavy Blocks
Shun rotten Uzza as I would the Pox;

And haften Og and Doeg to rehearse,

Two Fools that Crutch their feeble Sense on Verfe; Who by my Muse to all fucceeding times.

Shall live in spight of their own Dogrel Rhimes. Doeg, though without knowing how or why, Made still a blundring kind of Melody;

Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd thro' Thick and Thin,
Through Senfe and Non-fense, never out nor in ;
Free from all Meaning, whether Good or Bad,
And in one Word, Heroically Mad:

He was too warm on Picking-work to dwell,
But Eaggotted his Notions as they fell,
And if they Rhim'd and Rattl'd, all was well.
Spightful he is not, though he wrote a Satyr,
For ftill there goes fome thinking to Ill-Nature
He needs no more than Birds and Beafts to think
All his Occafions are to. Eat and Drink.
If he call Rogue and Rafcal from a Garrat,
He means you no more Mischief than a Parrat
The words for Friend and Foe alike were made,
To fetter 'em in Verfe is all his Trade.

For Almonds he'll cry Whore to his own Mothers
And call Young Abfalom King David's Brother.
Let him be Gallows-free by my Confent,
And nothing Suffer fince he nothing Meant ;-
Hanging fuppofes Human Soul and Reason,
This Animal's below committing Treafon:
Shall he be hang'd who never could Rebel
That's a Preferment for Achitophel.

The Woman that committed Buggary,
Was rightly sentenc'd by the Law to die;
But 'twas hard Fate that to the Gallows led
The Dog, that never heard the Statute read.
Railing in other Men may be a Crime,
But ought to pafs for mere Inftin&t in him:
Inftin&t he follows and no farther knows,
For to write Verse with him is to Transprofe
'Twere pity Treafon at his Door to lay,
Who makes Heaven's Gate a Lock to its own Key:
Let him Rail on, let his invective Muse
Have four and twenty Letters to abufe,
Which if he jumbles to one Line of Senfe,
Indict him of a Capital Offence.

In Fire-works give him leave to vent his Spight,
Thofe are the only Serpents he can write;
The height of his Ambition is, we know,
But to be Mafter of a Puppet-fhow,

On that one Stage his Works may yet appear,
And a Month's Harvest keeps him all the Year.
Now ftop your Nofes, Readers, all and fome;
For here's a Tun of Midnight-work to come,
Og from a Treafon Tavern rowling Home.
Round, as a Globe, and Liquor'd ev'ry chink,
Goodly and great he fails behind his Link;
With all this bulk there's nothing loft in Og,
For ev'ry inch that is not Fool is Rogue:
A monftrous Mafs of foul corrupted Matter,
As all the Devils had fpew'd to make the Batter
When wine has given him Courage to Blafpheme,
He curfes God, but God before curft him;
And if man cou'd have reafon, none has more,
That made his Paunch fo rich and him fo poor.
With wealth he was not trufted, for Heav'n knew
What 'twas of old to pamper up a few;
To what wou'd he on Quail and Pheafant fwell,
That ev'n on Tripe and Carrion could rebel?
But though Heav'n made him poor, (with rev'rencs
He never was a Poet of God's making; [speaking,)

The Midwife laid her hand on his thick Skull,
With this Prophetick Bleffing---Be thou Dull;
Drink, fwear and roar, forbear no lewd Delight
Fit for thy bulk, do any thing but write:
Thou art of lafting Make, like thoughtless Men,
A ftrong Nativity---but for the Pen;
Eat Opium, mingle Arfenick in thy drink,
Still thou mayft live, avoiding Pen and Ink.
I fee, I fee, 'tis Counsel given in vain,

For Treafon botcht in Rhime will be thy bane;
Rhime is the Rock on which thou art to wreck,
'Tis fatal to thy Fame and to thy Neck:
Why should thy Metre good King David blaft
A Pfalm of his will furely be thy laft..
Dar'A thou prefume in Verfe to meet thy Foes,
Thou whom the penny Pamphlet foil'd in Profe?
Doeg, whom God for Mankind's mirth has made,
O'er-tops thy Talent in thy very trade;
Deeg to thee, thy paintings are fo coarse,
A Poet is, though he's the Poet's Horse.
A double Noofe thou on thy Neck doft pull
For wiking Treason, and for writing dulk;
To die for Faction is a common evil,
But to be hang'd for Nonfenfe is the Devil :
Hadft thou the Glories of thy King expreft,
Thy Praises had been Satyr at the best ;
But thou in clumfie Verse, unlickt, unpointed,
Haft fhamefully defy'd the Lord's anointed:
I will not rake the Dunghill of thy Crimes,
For who would read thy Life that reads thy Rhimes?
But of King David's Foes, be this the Doom,
May all be like the Young-man Abfalom ;
And for my Foes may this their Blessing be,
To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee.
Achitophel each Rank, Degree and Age,
For various ends, neglects not to engage;
The wife and rich for Purse and Counsel brought,
The Fools and Beggars for their Number fought :