"O, Sir, you are old;

Nature in you stands on the very verge

Of her confine: you should be rul'd and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself -

ORATOR HUNT.

"There shall be, in England, seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony to drink small beer; all the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfry go to grass. And, when I am king, there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord."

"The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."

CARLILE.

"And is there, who the blessed Cross wipes off,

As a foul blot from his dishonour'd brow,

If Angels tremble, 'tis at such a sight."

THESE ARE

THE RADICALS

Friends of Reform,

Devising new Plots for exciting a Storm:

A mistaken old MAJOR sits hatching Sedition,
Yet dreams all the while of a lawful Petition;
And whilst Orator HUNT indites the Inscription,
He pockets the Pence of the Penny Subscription;
Yet vows he's the best, and most honest of men,
Swears lies to the LAWYER, who swears them
again.

And here is the DOCTOR of Spa-Fields fame,
Who vow'd he would set all the Town in a flame,
With a Stocking well-stuff'd full of Powder and Ball,
A Speech of two hours, and a Pistol withal.
Here's PRESTON, the Cobbler, just come from
his trial,

To Gin and Sedition outrageously loyal;

Like most of his breth'ren, who, spite of their votes, Preserve their allegiance to Thompson and Coates; And would sooner expel from their Clubs and their Lodges,

The Chairman himself, than Friends-Henley and Hodges,

Here's THISTLEWOOD, too, who tells "Tales out of School,'

That Orator HUNT is a Knave and a Fool.
A Staffordshire BARONET, wrapp'd in a scarf,
Sits nursing an ugly, mis-shapen,

BLACK DWARF.

And here is CARLILE, with his Two-penny Treason,

Who prefers to his Bible the vile "Age of Reason;" Who " wipes off the Cross," as an infamous stain, Despises his Saviour, but worships Tom Paine. These are all ragged RADICALS, tatter'd and torn, Who better, by far, had never been born,

On account of their Treasons, too great to be borne,

First hatch'd by the HYPOCRITES,
shaven and shorn-

The broad-bottom'd Whigs, now all forlorn;
Who grumbl'd and growl'd, from night till morn,
And pointed the "slow-moving finger of scorn,"
At the Country in which they were all "bred and
born,"

Had grown saucy and fat, on its wine and its corn ;
Who blew a loud blast, on the place-hunter's horn,
And with Joe Millar's Jests, did their Speeches
adorn ;

Who predicted the final success of our foes,

Then sigh'd if they sunk, and rejoic'd if they rose;" Who swore, when the French were defeated, that we Were kill'd by the sword, or were drown'd in the

Sea;

Who rail'd against Placemen, till they were in Place, Then sneer'd at their Monarch-nay, laugh'd in his

face;

Who bragg'd of their Talents, and pass'd a few Acts, And increas'd, 5 per Cent. the vile Property Tax ; "Who thought themselves safe in their snug little birth, And gave themselves up, to Carousing and Mirth; Who slept ev'ry night, upon Pillows of Down, Abhorring those PATRIOTS,

of high renown

The Heroes of Britain-the Gems of her Crown Who, despising all Danger, and scorning all Fear, When all was at stake, that their Country held dear, 'Midst Jacobin Rebels, and Friends of Reform,

Supported "THE PILOT

that weather'd the Storm,'

Who devised the means of subduing
THE THIEVES,

Who would plunder the TREASURES
That lay in the HOUSE that Jack built.

C

Who, having been prais'd for his bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness

These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,

Than twenty silly ducking observants,

That stretch their duties nicely."

"As one, who lay in thickets and in brakes
Entangl'd, winds now this way and now that
His devious course uncertain, seeking home."

THIS IS

WILL COBBETT,

with Thomas Paine's bones,

A bag full of brick-bats, and

one full of stones,

With which he intends to discharge
the long Debt

He owes to his Friends, and

Sir Francis Burdett

'Tis Cobbett, the changeling,

..the worthless and base,

Just arriv'd from New York, with
his impudent face,

Who comes to dispel our

political fogs,

And to add one more beast to

our Hampshire Hogs,

To mix with the RADICALS

FRIENDS OF REFORM,

Devising new Plots, for

exciting a Storm :

A mistaken old Major sits hatching Sedition,
Yet dreams all the while of a lawful Petition;
And whilst Orator Hunt indites the Inscription,
He pockets the Pence of the Penny Subscription;
Yet vows he's the best, and most honest of men,
Swears lies to the Lawyer, who swears them again.
And here is the Doctor, of Spa-Fields fame,

Who vow'd he would set all the Town in a flame,
With a Stocking well-stuff'd full of Powder and Ball,
A Speech of two hours, and a Pistol withal.
Here's Preston, the Cobbler, just come from his trial,
To Gin and Sedition outrageously loyal;

Like most of his breth'ren, who, spite of their votes,

Preserve their allegiance to Thompson and Coates;