We make and execute all laws;
Can judge the judges and the cause; 290
Prescribe all rules of right or wrong
To th’ long robe, and the longer tongue;
’Gainst which the world has no defence;
But our more pow’rful eloquence. 
We manage things of greatest weight 295
In all the world’s affairs of state
Are ministers of war and peace,
That sway all nations how we please. 
We rule all churches and their flocks,
Heretical and orthodox; 300
And are the heavenly vehicles
O’ th’ spirits in all conventicles. 
By us is all commerce and trade
Improv’d, and manag’d, and decay’d;
For nothing can go off so well, 305
Nor bears that price, as what we sell. 
We rule in ev’ry publique meeting,
And make men do what we judge fitting;
Are magistrates in all great towns,
Where men do nothing but wear gowns. 310
We make the man of war strike sail,
And to our braver conduct veil,
And, when h’ has chac’d his enemies,
Submit to us upon his knees. 
Is there an officer of state 315
Untimely rais’d, or magistrate,
That’s haughty and imperious? 
He’s but a journeyman to us. 
That as he gives us cause to do’t,
Can keep him in, or turn him out. 320

We are your guardians, that increase
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.

’Tis we that can dispose alone, 325
Whether your heirs shall be your own,
To whose integrity you must,
In spight of all your caution, trust;
And, ’less you fly beyond the seas,
Can fit you with what heirs we please; 330
And force you t’ own ’em, though begotten
By French Valets or Irish Footmen. 
Nor can the vigorousest course
Prevail, unless to make us worse;
Who still, the harsher we are us’d, 335
Are further off from b’ing reduc’d;
And scorn t’ abate, for any ills,
The least punctilios of our wills. 
Force does but whet our wits t’ apply
Arts, born with us, for remedy; 340
Which all your politicks, as yet,
Have ne’er been able to defeat: 
For when y’ have try’d all sorts of ways,
What fools d’ we make of you in plays! 
While all the favours we afford, 345
Are but to girt you with the sword,
To fight our battles in our steads,
And have your brains beat out o’ your heads;
Encounter, in despite of nature,
And fight at once, with fire and water, 350
With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas,
Our pride and vanity t’ appease;
Kill one another, and cut throats,
For our good graces, and best thoughts;