Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/419

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MAD MULLINIX AND TIMOTHY.
407

Revile and slander, fume and storm,
Betray, make oath, impeach, inform,
With such a constant loyal zeal
To serve myself and commonweal,
And fret the tories' soul to death,
I did but loose my precious breath;
And, when I damn my soul to plague 'em,
Am, as you tell me, but their may-game;
Consume my vitals! they shall know,
I am not to be treated so;
I'd rather hang myself by half,
Than give those rascals cause to laugh.
But how, my friend, can I endure,
Once so renown'd, to live obscure?
No little boys and girls to cry,
"There's nimble Tim a passing by!"
No more my dear delightful way tread
Of keeping up a party hatred?
Will none the tory dogs pursue,
When through the streets I cry halloo?
Must all my d—n mes! bloods and wounds!
Pass only now for empty sounds?
Shall tory rascals be elected,
Although I swear them disaffected?
And, when I roar, "A plot, a plot!"
Will our own party mind me not?
So qualify'd to swear and lie,
Will they not trust me for a spy?
Dear Mullinix, your good advice
I beg; you see the case is nice:
O! were I equal in renown,
Like thee to please this thankless town!
Or, bless'd with such engaging parts

To win the truant schoolboys' hearts!

D D 4
Thy