Part 3 / Book 3 — IMITATED FROM THE NINTH ODE OF HORACE, BOOK III.

Donec gratus eram tibi.

K——- When heedless of your birth and name, For pow'r yon barter'd future fame, On that auspicious day, Of K—gs I reign'd supremely blest: Not HASTINGS rul'd the plunder'd East With more despotic sway.

P—TT. When only on my favoured head Your smiles their royal influence shed, Then was the son of CH—TH—M The nation's pride, the public care, P—TT and Prerogative their pray'r, While we, Sir, both laugh'd at 'em.

K——- JENKY, I own, divides my heart, Skill'd in each deep and secret art To keep my C—MM—NS down: His views, his principles are mine; For these I'd willingly resign My Kingdom and my Crown.

P—TT. As much as for the public weal, My anxious bosom burns with zeal For pious Parson WYV—LL For him I'll fret, and fume, and spout, Go ev'ry length—except go out, For that's to me the Devil!

K——- What if, our sinking cause to save, We both our jealous strife should wave, And act our former farce on: If I to JENKY were more stern, Would you, then, generously turn Your back upon the Parson?

P—TT. Tho' to support his patriot plan I'm pledg'd as Minister and Man, This storm I hope to weather; And since your Royal will is so, Reforms and the Reformers too, May all be damn'd together!

Prettymaniana.

EPIGRAMS ON THE REV. DR. PR—TT—MAN'S DUPLICITY.

I.

That PRETTYMAN's so pale, so spare, No cause for wonder now affords; He lives, alas! on empty fare, Who lives by eating his own 'words!

II.

In BAYES's burlesque, though so strange it appear'd, That PRINCE PRETTYMAN's self should PRINCE PRETTYMAN kill; Our Prettyman FURTHER to go has not fear'd, But in DAMNING himself, he extended his skill!

III.

Undaunted PITT, against the State to plot, Should int'rest spur, or passion urge ye; Dread not the hapless exit of LA MOTTE, Secure in Benefit of Clergy!

IV.

That against my fair fame You devise so much blame, Cries the Priest, with a damn me, what care I? Since the gravest Divine, Tells a lie worse than mine, When he cries, "Nolo Episcopari!"

V.

How wisely PITT, for different ends, Can marshal his obedient friends! When only time he wants, not sense, MULGRAVE vents copious impotence. If demi-falsehood must be tried, By ROSE the quibbling task's supply'd— But for the more accomplish'd lie, Who with meek PR—TT—MAN shall vie?

VI. (PR—TT—MAN loquitur.)

Although, indeed, 'tis truly said, The various principles of Trade We are not very glib in; Yet surely none will this deny, Few know so well as PITT, or I, To manufacture fibbing.

VII.

A horrible fib that a Priest should have told, Seems to some people's thinking excessively odd, Yet sure there's no maxim more certain or old, Than "The nearer the Church still the farther from God."

VIII.

Why should such malice at the Parson fly? For though he spoke, he scorn'd to write, a lye.

IX.

While the Wits and the Fools Parson PRETTY belabour, With—"Thou shalt not false witness; set up 'gainst thy neighbour," The text and the fact (cries the Priest) disagree. For in Downing-street I, in Great George-street lives He.

X.

What shall reward bold PRETTY's well-tim'd sense, } For turning new an IRISH Evidence? } An IRISH Bishoprick's the recompence! }

XI.

What varied fates the same offence assail! PRETTY, install'd—and ATKINSON, in jail. Both scorn alike the laws that truth maintains; Yet one, a Prebend, one, a Prison gains. This mounts a stall, the pillory that ascends; For public, one, and one for private ends. The first gets ample scope our ears to pain; The other scarcely can his own retain: Just Heav'n, reverse the doom!—To punish each, To ATKINSON alone, let PRETTY preach!

XII.

How happy, alas! had it been for poor PITT, If WYVILL, like PRETTYMAN, never had writ!

XIII.

———Scelera ipsa nefasque Hâc mercede placent————

Cries PRETTYMAN, "Consider, Sir, My sacred cloth, and character." The indignant Minister replied, "This ne'er had been, had ORDE ne'er lyed." The patient Priest at last relented; And all his Master wish'd, invented; Then added, with a saint-like whine, "But the next Mitre must be mine!"

XIV.

For tongue or for eye, Who with PRETTY can vie? Sure such organs must save him much trouble; For of labour not loth, Tis the way with them both, Their functions to execute——double!

XV.

The days of miracle, 'twas thought, were past; (Strange from what cause so wild an error sprung) But now convinc'd, the world allows at last, PRETTY's still favour'd with a—cloven tongue!

XVI.

Faith in the Church, all grave Divines contend, Is the chief hold whence future hopes depend. How hard then BRITAIN's lot!—for who hath faith To credit half what Doctor PRETTY saith?

XVII.

(By SIR CECIL WRAY.)

Oh! if I had thought that PRETTY could lye, I'd a hired him, I would, for my Scrutiny! My poor Scrutiny!—My dear Scrutiny! My heart it down sinks—I wish I could die!

XVIII.

(By SIR JOSEPH MAWBEY.)

Lord BACON hang'd poor HOGG, For murd'ring, without pity, man; And so should PITT, by Gog, That kill-truth, Doctor PRETTYMAN— For say I will, spite of hip wig, He's far below the learned Pig!

XIX.

(By THE SAME.)

Says WRAY to me, which is most witty, The learned Pig, or Parson PRETTY? Says I, I thinks, the latter is more wiser; PIGGY tells truth alone;—but PRETTY lyes, Sir.

XX.

(NOT by THE SAME.)

Three Parsons for three different patrons writ, For ROCKINGHAM, for PORTLAND, and for PITT The first, in speaking truth alone surpass'd; The next could write it too—not so the last.— The pride of Churchmen to be beat was loth— So PRETTYMAN's the opposite to both!

XXI.

How much must IRELAND, PITT and PRETTY prize! Who swear, at all events, to equal—lyes.

XXII.

———In vino Veritas———

PRETTY, the other night, was tripping caught— Forgive him, PITT; he'll not repeat the fault— The best may err—misled by wine and youth— His Rev'rence drank too hard; and told—the truth! Ev'n thou, should generous wine o'ercome thy sense, May'st rashly stumble on the same offence.

XXIII.

There are who think all State affairs The worst of wicked worldly cares, To mingle with the priestly leaven; Yet sure the argument's uncouth—— PRETTY shall doubly spread the truth, A Minister of Earth and Heaven.

XXIV.

While modern Statesmen glean, from priestly tribes, Rev'rend Commis, and sanctimonious scribes; 'Tis love of truth—yet vain the hope, alas! To make this Holy Writ for Gospel pass.

XXV.

Above the pride of worldly fame or show, A virtuous Priest should upwards turn his eyes—— Thus PRETT contemns all character below, And thinks of nothing but the way to rise.

XXVI.

'Gainst PRETTY's unholiness vain 'tis to rail; With a courtly Divine that's of little avail; What Parson polite, would not virtue offend, And maintain a great falsehood, to save a great friend?

XXVII.

If St. PETER was made, Of Religion the head, For boldly his master denying; Sure, PRETTY may hope At least to be Pope, For his greater atchievements in lying.

XXVIII.

Says PRETTYMAN, "I'll fib, d'ye see, If you'll reward me freely." "Lye on (cries PITT) and claim of me The Bishoprick of E—LYE."

XXIX.

'Tis said the end may sanctify the means, And pious frauds denote a special grace; Thus PRETTY's lye his master nobly screens— Himself, good man! but seeks a better place.

XXX.

"Sons of PATRICK! (cries ORDE) set up shop in your bog, And you'll ruin the trade of JOHN BULL and NICK FROG." "That's a lye (replies PITT) we shall gain by their riches; If we wear IRISH shirts, they must wear ENGLISH breeches" "You both lye (exclaims PRETTY) but I will lye too; And, compar'd with my lye, what you say will seem true!"

XXXI.

For pert malignity observ'd alone, In all things else unnotic'd, and unknown; Obscurely odious, PRETTY pass'd his days, Till more inventive talents won our lays. "Now write, he cries, an Epigram's my pride: Who wou'd have known me, if I ne'er had ly'd?"

XXXII.

With pious whine, and hypocritic snivel, Our fathers said, "Tell truth, and shame the Devil!" A nobler way bold PR——TT——N is trying, He seeks to shame the Devil—by outlying,

XXXIII. (In answer to a former.)

No cloven tongue the Doctor boasts from heav'n, Such gifts but little wou'd the Doctor boot; For preaching Truth the cloven tongues were giv'n, His lyes demonstrate more the cloven foot.

XXXIV.

Maxims, says PRETT, and adages of old, Were circumscrib'd, though clever; Thus Truth they taught, not always should be told; But I maintain, not ever.

XXXV.

In the drama of CONGREVE, how charm'd do we read Of Spintext the Parson, and Maskwell the Cheat, But in life would you study them closer, indeed, For equal originals—see Downing-street.

XXXVI.

PITT and PRETTY came from College To serve themselves, and serve the state; And the world must all acknowledge Half is done—so half may wait: For PRETTY says, 'tis rather new, When even half they say—is true.

XXXVII. The Devil's a dealer in lyes, and we see That two of a trade never yet could agree; Then DOCTOR proceed, and d—m———n despise, What Devil would take such a rival in lyes.

XXXVIII.

GRAND TREATY OF LYING.

The Devil and PRETTY a treaty have made, On a permanent footing to settle their trade; 'Tis the Commerce of Lying,—and this is the law; The Devil imports him all lyes that are raw_;_ Which, check'd by no docket, unclogg'd with a fee, The Priest manufactures, and vends duty free; Except where the lye gives his conscience such trouble, The internal expence should have recompence double. Thus to navigate falsehood no bar they'll devise; But Hell must become the EMPORIUM of Lyes. Nay, the Bishops themselves, when in pulpit they bark it, Must supply their consumption, from Satan's own market, While reciprocal tribute is paid for the whole In a surplusage d—mn—g of P—TTY—'s soul.