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And are the heav'nly vehicles
O'th' spirits in all conventicles :
By us is all commerce and trade
Improv'd, and manag’d, and decay'd :
For nothing can go off so well,
Nor bears that price, as what we sell.
We rule in ev'ry public meeting,
And make men do what we judge fitting ;
Are magistrates in all great towns,
Where men do nothing but wear gowns.
We make the man of war strike fail,
And to our braver conduct veil,
And, when he'as chas'd his enemies,
Submit to us upon his knees.
Is there an officer of state,
Untimely rais’d, or magistrate,
That's haughty and imperious ?
He's but a journeyman to us,
That, as he gives us cause to do’t,
Can keep him in, or turn him out.
We are your guardians, that increase,
Or waste your fortunes how we please ;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.
'Tis we that can dispose alone,
Whether your heirs shall be your own ;
To whose integrity you must,
In spite of all your caution, trust;
And, 'less you fly beyond the seas,
Can fit you with what heirs we please ;
And force you t' own them, tho' begotten
By French valets, or Irish footmen.
Nor can the rigorouseft course
Prevail, unless to make us worse ;
Who, still the harsher we are us’d,
Are further off from b'ing reduc'd;
And scorn t'abate, for any ills,
The least punctilio of our wills.
Force does but whet our wits t apply
Arts, born with us, for remedy,
Which all your politics, as yet,
Have ne'er been able to defeat :
For, when ye've try'd all sorts of ways,
What fools do we make of you in plays ?
While all the favours we afford,
Are but to girt you with the sword,
To fight our battles in our steads,
And have your brains beat out o'your heads ;
Encounter, in despite of nature,
And fight, at once, with fire and water,
With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas,
Our pride and vanity t' appease ;
Kill one another, and cut throats,
For our good graces, and best thoughts ;
To do your exercise for honour,
And have your brains beat out the fooner;
Or crack'd, as learnedly, upon
Things that are never to be known :
And still appear the more industrious,
The more your projects are prepostrous, 360
To square the circle of the arts,
And run stark mad to shew your parts ;
Expound the oracle of laws,
And turn them which way we see cause ;
Be our solicitors, and agents,
And stand for us in all engagements.
And these are all the mighty pow'rs,
You vainly boast to cry down ours ;
And what in real value's wanting,
Supply with vapouring and ranting :
Because yourselves are terrify’d,
And stoop to one another's pride :
Believe we have as little wit
To be out-hector’d, and submit:
By your example, lose that right
In treaties, which we gain’d in fight :
And terrify'd into an awe,
Pass on ourselves a falique law;
Or, as some nations use, give place,
And truckle to your mighty race:
Let men usurp th’unjust dominion,
As if they were the better women.