( 15 )
Int’reſt diſpos’d you to Inteſtine Jars,
Improv’d to Bloody, and Domeſtick Wars;
Wherein being flatter’d with unjuſt ſucceſs,
Trampl’d on Merit, ſpit in Virtues Face,
Riffled the Throne, and ſtain’d the Judgment-ſeat,
With Crimes too black, and dreadful to repeat;
As if to you, Omnipotence had given,
A Sanguine, not a Milky-way to Heaven.
Still are your Thoughts by wild Ambition toſt,
Aiming to gain that Pow’r, you juſtly loſt:
At all Ellections, buſie are your Brood,
Heaving and ſhoving ’gainſt the Public Good.
On all Promotions, Zealouſly intent,
Squeeſe, Bawl, and Joſtle, till their Breaths are ſpent;
Kick, Cuff, and Scandal (heedleſs of the Laws)
Tongues, Feet, and Arms, all working for the Cauſe;
To raiſe ſome Meager Darling of their own,
Faction in whoſe penurious looks is ſhown:
Rich by meer Chance, or Fraud, not Great by merit grown.
Who can Lye, Cant, Diſſemble, or Forſwear,
Declaim againſt, or hear the Common-Prayer;
Thro’ all Opinions Halt, to Lamely reach the Chair.
Who can his Conſcience, to his Intereſt mould,
Run with the Court, or with the City hold.
And without ſhame, can true Reflections face,
Or bear all ſcandal, with a comely Grace.
And will his Pow’r beyond juſt bounds extend,
To injure Foes, or to advance a Friend;
Or any thing will do, to ſerve a Factious End.
