[1]
THE
Unjust Judges
CREED,
REPLIED
To Mr. EZEKIEL EDGWORTH,
Arch-Deacon of Newgate.
Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina Maevi.
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J. YOu rambled once, and seemd to say,
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That Judges must be judgd one day;
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Twould fix on us such foul Disgraces,
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To th mighty lessning of our Places.
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Ist fit for Us to be controld
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By slavish Fear, so want bright Gold
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From dangers distant, but how far
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Could neer be provd yet by you Sir?
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What! shall not we Men hang, or quit,
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Or Witness sham, as we think fit?
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I tell thee, Priest, Ive Authors read,
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And know as much as can be said;
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Noughts after Death, Deaths but a Puff,
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A Groan, when Nature plays us off.
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Lets all lay by both Hope and Fear,
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Of future State lets take no Care,
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For we shall be but as we were.
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Time still devours us, spite of Art,
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And Death destroys our thinking part.
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So th tale of Hell and th old grim Sir,
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Bout which you Black-Coats keep such stir,
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Are but vain, empty, idle Dreams,
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Arising from distemperd Brains.
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The
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[2]
The Arch-Deacons ANSWER.
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IF that be true your Lordship says,
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You may, like Bulls, live Jovial Days:
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Bulls only have the better ont,
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You somtimes fear, which they do not.
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Their Fronts are curld, though not with Care
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Nor Choice, yet theyve their entire share.
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They court their Miss, their Meat, their Drink;
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Thrice happy Brutes, they never think
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Of Peace, or War, or Dutch, or French,
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Or new Intrigue of Madam-Wench.
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They careless are, how bought, how sold;
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Or whether Tagus sands be Gold.
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Hereafter (altho) Death should be
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An Inlet to Eternity,
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Then your Lordship pays ta farthing,
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Both for Justice and your-------
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Howere, ift be as you divine,
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The Hermits as wells the Libertine.
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For its Futurity of State,
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Distinguishing our unknown Fate,
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That good from bad doth separate.
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Live then, My Lord, that you mayve room
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To hope, not fear, a State to Come.
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