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When Freedom's active, all-preserving Spring
But Politics wear now a darker Hue,
And wage more dreadful than of Arms a War.
In fuch a Situation much depends Whither each private Refolution tends ; If to be Free is yet one's gen'rous Aim, Or for low Purposes to quench the Flame. One Vote may haften England's hapless Doom, One Vote again may bid her Glories bloom.
If you examine, in the human Frame, The Cafe I've urg'd, is very much the fame. Beats your Heart strong, and is your Body hale ? Shocks, c'en tho' rude, in vain the Man affail : Soon rough Impediments away we fling, And Health recovers its elaftic Spring.
But Fancy on the Couch a Patient laid,
An honest Man, accuftom'd to dispense
The stubborn Malady his Thoughts explore,
A. All this, I grant you, is extremely fine, And Senfe and Virtue breathe in ev'ry Line. But then a Fellow, with a Tyburn Face,
Came down, and told me I must lose my Place
Unless I vote as
God knows who prescribe
One's Bread, you know, fweet Sirs, a pow'rful Bribe.
Could you, my Soul ethereal, by your Leave,
Or e'er a Patriot of our State atchieve
dear Country any glorious Feat,
Unless did vouchfafe fometimes to eat? you
let me innocently have good Cheer
Till I am ripe for the funereal Bier :
I'll make the utmost of my
Whilft I enjoy the Privilege of Man;
I'll eat and drink, a Freeman, to my Grave,
But I will rather ftarve than be a Slave.
I too, myself, or have, or had a Post,
Perhaps it is this very Moment loft:
I faw the Government's, or the Tool's Tool;
A. Promife, and then recant, good Teacher, fay, Is that the modern Patriotic Way?
B. Never on any Doctrine be fevere,
"That I've already pledg'd my Vote, is true,
"For which our Members to the House are fent;
"Full many a Hero fhou'd have bled in vain ;
shou’d in vain, for England's Wrong, "Have bid the Heart flow dauntlefs from the Tongue.
"But now you'd rivet our unworthy Chains,
"Back'd with a Terror which a Man difdains.
"Sure when you reprefent, you'll injure more :
Is this a Trick, wou'd Mazarine aver?
Clarke, from the Gospel-Tenets, do I err?
A. Well, my poor Heart cannot, like yours, expand;
One has not noble Feelings at Command.