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[Page 41]
That during the course of the present long Trial,
He had never been mortify'd so by denial.
Now EDMUND, altho' much depress'd by the vapours,
In evidence offer'd additional Papers:
Then HASTINGS'S Counsel arose, as expected,
Saying, similar proofs have been often rejected.
But CHARLEY contended the MANAGERS shou'd
Try all things, and stick fast to THAT which is good;
That as the said MANAGERS could not learn why
Their LORDSHIPS so often were pleas'd to deny,
'Twas a duty incumbent to offer and try. -
And now, my Dear Brother, I lay down my pen;
And when I have matter, I'll write you again.
SHENKIN.
World July 9. 1789
SHENKIN in WALES, to his Cousin SIMKIN in LONDON.
ENOUGH - enough - Dear SIMKIN! spare a while
Thy Reader's laughter, and thy Hero's bile!
Yet, yet avert the threat'ning storm that lowers,
Nor brave too rashly Tribunitian Powers!
Shall he, whose fame thy Antisceptic Rhymes
Have sous'd and pickled for remotest times,
All alkaline antipathy suppress,
And gulp with patience all the pungent Mess?
What, are there no officious Prompters near,
To whisper vengeance in his smarting ear?
No Managerial Brothers of the Pack,
To bark and bounce, and bellow at his back?
O! then, in time direct thy wayward way
Where Panegyric's fost'ring breezes play;
Low at IMPEACHMENT'S crimson altar bow,
Where Peers obsequious bend - and well may'st thou.
- That PRINCE, whom common transports could but cloy,
Who proffer'd millions for a new-found joy,
Now might at last his unclaim'd gifts bestow
At Conj'ring BURKE'S Judicial Raree-show.
O! could I hear him as he raves and foams,
To tempt deluded idlers from their homes;
And shews his living Lords in robes so fine,
While Salmon's Peers of Wax unheeded pine!
Could I partake for once the magic sport,
To wait extatic in an Empty Court,
While jaded Nobles keep whole hours aloof,
And wince and startle at illegal proof!
If, then, fate urge thee headlong on to write,
Explain the mystery of this new delight:
Say, by what Hocus Pocus, SIMKIN, say,
IMPEACHMENT reigns the fashion of the day?
Why on one object all its stores employ;
Has BURKE a Patent for this new-found joy?
Sole Arbiter Deliciarum he,
And Britain's Juggler with exclusive plea?
Nought but the Trial's wonders now prevail;
The Trial's Records load our lagging Mail.
Ask a pert LONDONER, "What news of late?"
"- BURKE, Sir, last Thursday was prodigious great.
"A slender Vial's drippings now anoint
"His tongue, which erst was delug'd with a pint:
"To give the last perfection to his note,
" 'Tis thought a Thumb Bottle must wet his throat.
"With Lemon too, he calms th'intrusive wheezing;
"His mouth all parch'd - now speaking, and now squeezing.
" 'Tis he amuses now alone the Town;
"GUIMARD is still - the Op'ra-House burnt down.
"No puffs of profit buoy the lank Balloon:
"No BLANCHARD spies Impeachment in the Moon.
"In vain, with painted effigy on high,
"A new Goliah courts each gazer's eye:
"The Tower's fierce Lions unattended roar;
"The starv'd Stone - muncher dines on Flints no more.
"Hush'd are the gruntings of the Sapient Swine,
"Which throng'd Saloons once hail'd almost divine:
"Poor PIG! - he dy'd, they say, of mere despair,
"His Rival's triumphs were too much to bear."
- SIMKIN, I burst, impatient to be taught
What Sums this grand discovery has brought.
By all thy past and present well-earn'd Bays,
By all thy hopes of fifty more such days,
O say (nor think I mean thy share to rob)
Are thine the only profits of the Job?
For thine is doubtless no mean niggard pension,
Recording Laurent to this blest invention.
Do purchas'd Tickets, Belles and Beaux admit
At diff'rent price, to Gall'ry, Box, and Pit?
Or is all debt-reducing system cross'd,
To treat spectators at the Nation's cost.
Stands each Performer pension'd by the week,
Puppets and all - or only those that squeak?
Who share the splendid pickings of the Show? -
It's Joint-Exhibitors - viz. BURKE and Co.?
Or serve the whole as one prodigious fee,
A Bonus for the grasping Patentee?
If thou must write-be, SIMKIN, this thy toil,
Thou great Apollo of our Cambrian Soil!
So may Adjournments, welcome sweets, prolong
Thy Hero's bliss, thy Stipend, and thy Song!
So BURKE and SIMKIN'S mutual aid support
The pall'd attention of th'insulted Court!
So thy new FABIUS crush (as well he may)
His much-enduring Victim by delay!
SIMKIN.
World July 13. 1789.
It is one of the pleasures appropriated to this PAPER, to be copied every where - and then abused. There is a pleasantry in this Impudence, that certainly is the best part of a Low Print. The Writer below has only one part of this good fortune: he is copied - but not abused.
SIMKIN in London, to his Cousin SHENKIN in Wales.
DEAR SHENKIN, 'tis time you should now understand
That your Letters, in order, came safely to hand:
That if to the former I made no reply,
'Twas because, indirectly, you gave me the Lye.
You, by way of a compliment, chose to admit
That my Letters were good as to Humour and Wit;
But whilst you allow'd that my Verse was amusing,
My credulous Readers you thought me abusing.
The TRIAL'S Existence you grant, to be sure,
But the Picture, you said, was a CARICATURE.
There's nothing, believe me, that SHENKIN can say -
No compliment fine, he can possibly pay,
That can ever atone with a Native of Wales,
When his honour is wounded by doubting his Tales.
There is not at WESTMINSTER, even one PEER,
Among those to whom BURKE and his Party are dear -
Who join him in other political Acts,
But, freely subscribes to my statement of Facts.
And though it is true, that the facts I rehearse,
Have a farcical mien when committed to Verse,
You would say, if you once heard my eloquent Speaker,
The Original's strong, but the Picture is weaker.
You're ign'rant, you say, and I'm glad you avow it,
'Tis you only excuse, and I therefore allow it;
You foolishly balance in Justice's Scales
A POLITICAL CHIEF, with your neighbours in WALES;
But since from the Mountain your HIGHNESS came down,
And heard it confirm'd by the dwellers in town,
It seems, though you question'd your Cousin's relation,
You implicitly credit a Stranger's narration.
In your Second Epistle, you pleasantly mention
A supposal that SIMKIN possesses a Pension;
My Letter to SIMON, you've surely forgot,
I said-and now say it, "Indeed I have NOT."
To whom could I possibly make the request,
The PRIS'NER'S half ruin'd, and deeply distrest:
My Heroes themselves are in general needy,
And PITT, as a Stateman, is shockingly greedy:
HE would tell me, perhaps, all the cash which he gets
Will scarcely suffice for the National Debts.
Nay, the Counsel, if EDMUND could do well without 'em,
Such a Miser is PITT, he'd be happy to rout 'em.
I grant, that I once did indulge such a hope,
But my HERO now thinks me deserving a Rope;
The Speeches he makes in the moment of Madness,
In his intervals lucid, effect him with sadness.
Believe me, Dear SHENKIN, I've no other ends
To answer, than barely amusement of Friends;
And when from engagements I'm free and at leisure,
I visit the HALL as a matter of pleasure:
But, from your last Letter, I cannot help thinking
That prejudic'd men have impos'd upon SHENKIN:
For you write, my Dear Friend, as if touch'd with compassion,
A weakness (not Virtue) that's much out of fashion.
'Twas nothing but prejudice caus'd you to say
That HASTINGS a victim must fall to delay.
You are wrong-and if now it were not out of season,
On the subject before me to argue and reason,