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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=395856" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Parody</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=395856" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For one long term, or e'er her trial came, <br>Here Brownrigg linger'd. Often have these cells <br>Echoed her blasphemies, as with shrill voice <br>She scream'd for fresh Geneva. Not to her <br>Did the blithe fields of Tothill, or thy street <br>St. Giles, its fair varieties expand; <br>Till at the last in slow drawn cart she went <br>To execution. Dost thou ask her crime? <br>She whipp'd two female 'prentices to death, <br>And hid them in the coal-hole. For her mind <br>Shap'd strictest plans of discipline. Sage schemes! <br>Such as Lycurgus taught, when at the shrine <br>Of the Orthyan Goddess he bade flog <br>The little Spartans; such as erst chastised <br>Our Milton when at College. For this act <br>Did Brownrigg swing. Harsh laws; but time shall come, <br>When France shall reign, and laws be all repeal'd!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=George+Canning">George Canning</a></strong></div>

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