A Westminster Wedding, Or The Town Mouth; Alias, The Recorder Of London And His Lady: Feb. 17, 1679 Poem by Anonymous British

'Tis said when George did dragon slay,
He saved a maid from cruel fray:
But this Sir George, whom knaves do brag on,
Mist of the maid, and caught the dragon;
Since which, the furious beast so fell,
Stares, roars, and yawns like mouth of hell:
He raves and tears, his bad condition
Distracts his mind, as late petition.
Peace man, or beast (or both) to please ye,
A parliament will surely ease ye.
Marriage and hanging both do go
By destiny; Sir George, if so,
You stand as fairly both to have,
As ever yet did fool or knave:
The first your wife hath help'd ye to;
The other as a rogue's your due:
No other way is left to tame ye;
And if you have it not, then blame me.
But ere it comes, and things are fitting,
Judge of his merit by his getting:
He's got a ven'mous heart, and tongue
With vipers, snakes, and adders hung,
By which, in court he plays the fury,
Hectors complainant, law, and jury:
His imprudence hath all laws broken,
(To the judges honour be it spoken,)
For which he got a name that stinks
Worse than the common jakes or sinks:
But to allay the scent so hot,
George from the court has knighthood got
Bestow'd upon him for his bawling,—
A royal mark for caterwauling:
But certain, George must never boast on't,
'Cause traitors, cheats, and pimps have most on't.
Now rogue enough he got in favour,
To bind good men to worse behaviour,
And bark aloud they will deceive ye,
In that he matches tribe of Levi;
Who now with Pope bear all before 'em,
Priests made just-asses of the quorum.
Faith make 'em judges too, most fine-o,
And then they'll preach it all Divino.
There's somewhat more that George has got,
(For Trevor left him, who knows what)
A teeming lady-wife * * * * * *
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But one thing more I can't let pass,
When George with Clodpate feasted last,
(I must say Clodpate was a sinner,
To jerk his brother so at dinner,)
He by his almanack did discover,
His wife scarce thirty weeks went over,
Ere she (poor thing!) in pieces fell,
Which made Mouth stare and bawl like hell.
What then, you fool! some wives miscarry,
And reckon June for January.
This Clodpate did assert as true,
Which he by old experience knew,
But all his canting would not do.
George put him to t'upon denial,
Which set him hard as Wakeman's trial:
They rail'd, and bawl'd, and kept a pother,
And like two curs did bite each other.
Which brought some sport, but no repentance;
So off they went to Harris sentence,
Which soon they pass'd against all laws,
To glut their rage and popish cause:
For which injustice, knaves! we hope
You'll end together in the rope:
And when the gallows shall you swallow,
We'll throw up caps, and once more holloa,
If this we wish from private grudge,
Or as their merit, England's judge:
Who seek the nation to enthrall
Are treacherous slaves and villains all.
And when confusion such does follow,
We'll throw up caps, and once more holloa,
That's their exit,
Tho' they rex-it,
We shall grex-it.