------_Scelera ipsa nefasque Hâc mercede placent_--------
Cries PRETTYMAN, "Consider, Sir, My sacred cloth, and character." The indignant Minister replied, "This ne'er had been, had ORDE ne'er lyed." The patient Priest at last relented; And _all his Master wish'd_, invented; Then added, with a saint-like whine, "But the next Mitre _must_ be mine!"
For _tongue_ or for _eye_, Who with PRETTY can vie? Sure such organs must save him much trouble; For of labour not loth, Tis the way with them both, Their functions to execute----_double!_
The days of miracle, 'twas thought, were past; (Strange from what cause so wild an error sprung) But now convinc'd, the world allows at last, PRETTY's still favour'd with a--_cloven tongue!_
_Faith in the Church_, all grave Divines contend, Is the chief hold whence future hopes depend. How hard then BRITAIN's lot!--for who hath _faith_ To credit _half_ what Doctor PRETTY saith?
Oh! if I had thought that PRETTY could lye, I'd a hired him, I would, for my Scrutiny! My poor Scrutiny!--My _dear_ Scrutiny! My heart it down sinks--I wish I could die!
Lord BACON hang'd poor HOGG, For murd'ring, without pity, man; And so should PITT, by Gog, That kill-truth, Doctor PRETTYMAN-- For say I will, spite of hip wig, He's far below the _learned Pig!_
Says WRAY to me, which is most witty, The learned Pig, or Parson PRETTY? Says I, I thinks, the latter is more wiser; PIGGY tells truth alone;--but PRETTY lyes, Sir.
Three Parsons for three different patrons writ, For ROCKINGHAM, for PORTLAND, and for PITT The first, in _speaking_ truth alone surpass'd; The next could _write_ it too--not so the last.-- The pride of Churchmen to be beat was loth-- So PRETTYMAN's the opposite to both!
How much must IRELAND, PITT and PRETTY prize! Who swear, at all events, to _equal--lyes_.
PRETTY, the other night, was tripping caught-- Forgive him, PITT; he'll not repeat the fault-- The best may err--misled by wine and youth-- His Rev'rence drank too hard; and told--_the truth!_ Ev'n thou, should generous wine o'ercome thy sense, May'st rashly stumble on the same offence.
There are who think all State affairs The worst of wicked worldly cares, To mingle with the priestly leaven; Yet sure the argument's uncouth---- PRETTY shall _doubly_ spread the truth, A Minister of Earth and Heaven.