"This bubble for a time may current pass, Copper's the title, but 'twill end in brass; Knaves cry it up, fools buy, but when it fails, The losing crowd will cry 'lots splutter a'nails.'"
Ten. _Providing for and employing all the Poor of Great Britain._
"The poor when managed and employ'd in trade, Are to the public welfare useful made. But if kept idle, from their vices spring W----s for the stews, and soldiers for the king."
"Our oily project with the gaping town, Will surely for a time go smoothly down. We sow and press to carry on the cheat: To bite Change Alley is not fraud, but wit."
Queen. _For erecting Hospitals for taking in and maintaining Illegitimate Children._
"Love on, ye jolly rakes and buxom dames, A child is safer than venereal flames; Indulge your senses with the sweet offence, We'll keep your bastards at a small expence."
King. _An inoffensive Way of emptying Houses of Office._
"Our fragrant bubble, would the world believe it, Is to make human dung smell sweet as civet; None sure before us ever durst presume To turn a ... into a rich perfume."
"These crafty managers have play'd for years The world as many tricks as dancing bears, By bubbling too they broke their ancient rules; They first made lute-strings, but they now make fools."
"As empty sayings flow from windy fools, So pasteboard bubbles rise from paper skulls. Madness must surely be the town's disease When knaves get money by such whims as these."
"You that delight to take up foreign linen, At Harbro' made, a little town near Bremen, Encourage trade abroad for time to come, And, like kind fools, neglect your own at home."
"Come all ye black infernal powder makers, And Rocketeers that deal in squibs and crackers, Buy petre stock, let me be your adviser, 'Twill make you (tho' not richer) much the wiser."
"Fair tattling gossips, you that love to see Fine sugar blended with expensive tea, Since you delight in things both dear and sweet, Buy sugar shares, and you'll be sweetly bit."
"Come all ye bacon making, greasy rogues That want good names for your meagre hogs, Send them to us, and at a small expence, We'll fat 'em up with offal, blood, and grains."
"Projecting sure must be a gainful trade, Since all the elements are bubbles made; They're right that gull us with the dread of fire, For fear makes greater fools than fond desire."