Classic Poem

After thinking this fortnight of Whig and of Tory,
This to me is the long and the short of the story:
They are all fools or knaves, and they keep up this pother
On both sides, designing to cheat one another.

Poor Rowley (whose maxims of state are a riddle)
Has plac'd himself much like the pin in the middle;
Let which corner soever be tumbl'd down first,
'Tis ten thousand to one but he comes by the worst.

'Twixt brother and bastard (those Dukes of renown)
He'll make a wise shift to get rid of his crown;
Had he half common sense (were it ne'er so uncivil)
He'd have had 'em long since tipp'd down to the Devil.

The first is a Prince well-fashion'd, well-featur'd,
No bigot to speak of, not false, nor ill-natur'd;
The other for government can't be unfit,
He's so little a fop, and so plaguy a wit.

Had I this soft son, and this dangerous brother,
I'd hang up the one, then I'd piss upon t'other;
I'd make this the long and the short of the story:
The fools might be Whigs, none but knaves should be Tories.