Go on for to establish Trade,
And mend our Navigation,
Let India invade,
And borrow on Funds will ne'er be paid,
And Bankrupt all the Nation.

XI.

'Tis you that calculate our Gold,
And with a senseless Tone,
Vote that you never understood,
That we might take them if we wou'd
Or let them all alone.

XII.

Your Missives you send round about
With Mr. _Speaker's_ Letter,
To fetch Folks in, and find Folks out,
Which Fools believe without dispute,
Because they know no better.

XIII.

With borrow'd Ships, and hir'd Men,
The _Irish_ to reduce,
Who will be paid the Lord knows when;
'Tis hop'd whene'er you want again,
You'll think of that Abuse.