On the Warwickshire Peers. A New Sonnet. The Words made to a pretty Tune.
RIde all England o'er,
East and West, South or Nore,
And try every British Peer;
The Warwickshire Lords
Will excel what affords,
Any other remaining Shire.
Peer Den gh is kind,
And a hearty true Friend,
Lord Cr n the same we know,
He'll still hold ye to't,
From the Dram to the Flute,
And ne'er give ye a Hint to go.
North ton of Fame
Should have first here a Name,
Whose Deserts great Applause have gain'd,
His brave Loyal Race,
To their Country a Grace,
In Old Times the Crown's Right maintain'd:
Lord Brook by his Choice
Would make Warwick rejoyce,
Would his Spleen let him Harbour there,
But since that plagues his Head,
For his Cure let him read
[1]Le Malade Imaginaire.
Lord Willoughby's Old,
But couragious and bold,
For the Rights of the Church and Crown,
Who though ninety Odd,
Was freezing his Blood,
For the Cause would rise post to Town:
But, oh, to its Shame,
There is one without Name,
- ↑ A Play of Molieres.