HARRY Cares Last Will and Testament.  

NOT Hell itself, nor gloomy Fate, can save  
The Lewdest Sinner from his destined Grave:  
But all the Sooty Surges once must try,  
Old Charon's Boat's a certain Destiny.  
This Harry found, whose moldring Corpse did call  
For Physic props t' uphold the humane Wall;  
Thinking himself to Ne plus ultra come,  
He thought of Winding Sheets, and of his Tomb:  
Summoned his glorious Kindred to appear,  
To see his last, and his last Will to hear;  
The Weeping Crowd the mournful Chamber fill,  
While he in dying accents makes his Will.   

Imprimis, for my Soul (if such I have)  
I wish it buried with me in my Grave:  
For if what great Divines do Preach and tell,  
Be real Verities, of Heaven and Hell,  
Down to the gloomy Shores I surely go,  
The same I served above must serve below.   

And next, for my dear Wife, who Weeps my fall,  
And is chief Mourner at my Funeral,  
My sole Executrix I do her make,  
And let her all my Goods and Chattels take:  
Besides, my Province too let her command,  
That undiscovered lies in Fairy-Land.  
To her my unsold Pamphlets I bequeath,  
To buy her Brandy and Tobacco with:  
And if she do a Male or Stallion take,  
I hope he'll use her kindly for my sake;  
With equal strength the Marriage Yoke she'll draw,  
If he but drench her well with Vsquebah.   

My Daughter next, the Offspring of my Bed,  
I pour a double Blessing on her Head,  
The only Legacy I can bestow,  
And more than Heaven gave me here below;  
May she the Irish Witness Wed, and raise  
A Race of Evidences for our Cause.   

And for those kinder Folks that propped my Pains,  
I freely leave them both my Pen and Brains:  
May they my little Artifices use,  
To raise up Factions, and the Crowd amuse,  
Till being doubly dipped in Infamy,  
Like me unpityed, and unenvied dye.   

Now to the Numerous Crowd that does survive,  
I only can my dying Council give:  
The Western Emissaries I approve,  
And even dying do declare my love:  
I charge them to stand firm to their trust,  
Accounting what's their Interest, to be Just.  
The Females I commend to Brother Cox,  
Who if he cannot cure, can give the Pox;  
And may he still the Vigorous warmth retain,  
T' impart to stroaling she in Street or Lane.   

I've nothing more to give to all the rest,  
But leave Ten Thousand curses on the Test;  
And who do its Abolishing withstand,  
I leave upon them an Eternal Brand.  
And for the Penal Laws, they like so well,  
I'll write for their Repeal when I'm in Hell;  
And if Damned Pluto's Laws are like to these,  
I'll quickly sue him out a Writ of Ease.  
I there will my Occurrence truly state,  
Whilst some Infernal L—kin Prints the Cheat;  
I Hell's black Tyrant will both sooth and praise,  
And even in Sulphurous Styx Sedition raise.   
FINIS.