In's own defence the Author writes  
Because while this foul Maggot bites  
He ne'er Can rest in quiet▪  
Which makes him make▪ So sad a face  
Heed beg your worship or your Grace  
Unsight unseen to buy it▪   

Maggots: OR, POEMS ON SEVERAL Subjects, Never before Handled.  
By a Scholar.  
LONDON, Printed for john Dunton, at the Sign of the Black Raven, at the Corner of Prince's Street, near the Royal Exchange. 1685.   

To the Honoured Mr. H. D. Head-Master of the Free-School in D—, in the County of D—.  
THE great Cowley forgets not to acknowledge his Master's Care and Kindness while at Westminster; nor, to come nearer, was Mr. Creech much tardier in publishing his grateful Resentments of the same Obligations from Mr. Curganven.— You may, Sir, justly wonder what makes me drag in such Names into a Piece where there is hardly like to be besides, one word of Earnest, and perhaps not many of Sense: You may be apt to judge me worthy not much less Punishment than that Comedian who stole matter from the Sacred History to patch up his Farce. But here I must unavoidably take Refuge at the old thumbed Scrap, Sic parvis componere magna— Or, to be more sincere; this seemed a pretty way of beginning; I was fond of the Fancy, and knew not where to get a better. However, tho' I ha' been bold enough to make the Simile, I hardly dare be so saucy, I mean o' my side, to apply it; nor, tho' Mr. D— may be as noble a Field for Panegyric as any, venture to disgrace him with prefixing here his Name, or my little Praises. 'Tis enough that all who knew me when under his Tuition, know what a fair share I enjoyed of his undeserved Favours; and that all who know so many famous Men as have had the happiness of their Education there, are satisfied 'tis my own fault I han't made suitable Proficiency to what might be rationally expected from such an advantageous Foundation.— As to my addressing these to you, though I can have no full Excuse, yet my Presumption or Vanity may admit, I hope, some Alleviation. This is my first formed Birth, of which, tho' generally partaking all the Parent's ill humours, the greatest part of the World uses to be, if not most fond, yet most concerned; and no wonder therefore, abstracting from its Value or Defects, I am willing to provide for it, and prefer it, But tho' Gratitude commanded you should know the Author, and that exact Respect he is still obliged to pay your former goodness; yet ● was too conscious of the mean way I testified it in, and the unworthiness of the Acknowledgement, and had too tender a sense o● your Reputation, to let your name publicly appear here, before I knew what Reception these true Trifles might find in the World. The most, the best, the all I can say for 'em, is what I remember many a fair year passed on such a kind of occasion:— Accept my Heart for Gift, and all, which will be the highest Honour can be pretended to by,  
Sir, Your Obliged Scbollar, and Humble Servant, etc.   

THE EPISTLE TO THE READER.  
Gentle Reader,  
IN the first place, pray take notice this is addressed only to those that buy the Book, for such as only borrowed, my good Friend the Bookseller and I will ha' nothing to do with 'em: For is there any Reason or Conscience in't that he should write so many Letters to me about the business, and I take so much pains for him, besides some appurtenances of Money for Copy, Printing, etc. only for a mere How d'ye?— In the next place, since it comes uppermost, I am to tell ye bonâ fide, that is in English in verbo Sacerdotis, that all here are my own pure Maggots, the natural Issue of my Brainpan, bred and born there, and only there. — Nay the Bookseller and I would have you to know, these are no Scraps or Remains of I know not who; which if you question, or doubt, you are to be fobbed off again with a Prisoners-Basket of Collections; I do ye to wit you are egregiously mistaken in the matter, and prove it by a couple of sturdy arguments. One— that never a Subject here was ever treated of, at least in this Method, by Man, Woman, or Sucking Child, from the beginning of the World to— this present writing, and so downwards: Tother argument, which you ' l find concludes very strongly▪ is,— Because here wants a hundred and fifty Copper-plates precisely, (curiously engraven, etc.) which any that's but ordinarily versed in modern History, knows to be as inseparable a mark of an omnium gatherum as the Cloven foot is of Mephistophiles. If you have therefore the Luck to see one gaudy picture at the beginning, which is even as it pleaseth Painter, and Printer, set your Heart at rest there, and hope not for a scrap of one more between— Gentle Reader and Finis.— But this is ned a Quarter of what you and I have to say to one another: I should be an hard hearted Bruit of a Father indeed, if I could be so cruel as to send this poor Brat of a Book abroad into the wide World, without speaking so much as one good Word for't. What may be objected against it, is either as to the matter, or manner of 't; and here, tho' with Mr. Rhombus I should cut my Cheese into two particles, yet since my Readers naturally fall into three parts, I can't help't, to save my Life: They are either the Wise, or Fools, who 'tis likely may be disgruntled at the first— or the Trimmers, a Little o' one with tother, who may be offended at the Latter.— Now, Quo ' the first,— 'Tis light, vain, frothy, airy,— here's Time misspent, and may— be some pains on Subjects below the Gravity of a Man, at least of a Christian, to employ himself about. So much for Ob: enter Sol.— If those Gentlemen will do me the favour to lend me an handful or two of Beard, and be at the charge of grafting it ●n, I'll oblige myself to a speedy, and through Reformation in that case. Some time is no doubt allowable for mere Recreation, this is certainly harmless; I hope nothing will be found here that may either make me justly blush to own, or another to read; and I hope they ' l grant this kind of diversion a little more excusable than fooling away two or three years, and it may be as many Reams of Paper, in doleful Dittys of Philander and Phillis, which uses to be the general work of all that are Prentices to a Verse-wright— They have, I believe, heard of the Great St. Basils' Encomium on a Pismire, as well as the Diversions of many famous Persons on as Inconsiderable Subjects. I dare not before them quote the Authority of the ingenious Preface to the Valentinian, (tho' hardly one of 'em but must own when young they have read both Plays and Romances:) But here's somewhat I some time ago cabbaged from Osborn, that will I think help as well at a dead lift.— [Advice to a Son of Studies— pag. 11. parag. 17.] The way to Elegance of Style, is to employ the Pen upon every Errand, and the more trivial and dry it is, the more Brains must be allowed for Sauce. Thus by checking all ordinary Invention, your Reason will attain to such an Habit, as not to dare present you but with what is excellent.]  
Well! If all this won't satisfy, what think ye of a knocking Argument, hight-necessity? Who knows but my Shoes may want dearning, or my Stockings happen to be a little out at Elbows, (no Miracles in a Rhimester let me tell ye) and in this case a Recruit of as many yellow Ones as the Bookseller and I can agree upon, will be no false Latin. They may rejoin,— Why not something serious then, and worthy my own pains, and others perusal? 'Tis easily answered, That tho' such a design should suit with my present Years and Inclinations, yet who would be the Customers? Alas, their Party is but weak and small in the World; which leads me to the second Part of my Text. — As concerning Fools, the Proverb is,— A Word to the Wise; but o' the contrary, I hope to dispatch these more reasonable Gentlemen a great deal sooner; their Objections sure can't be very material, nor will their Weapons make very deep Impressions, tho' soon shot: However, being the greatest, the most considerable, jovial, complaisant, agreeable part of Mankind, 'twill be no small part of my Interest to oblige 'em. And why may'ned I have my chance as well as others? If I take the same Method by which another has pleased 'em: If I write silly enough, why mayn't my Book sell as well as any Christmas Tales and Wonderments that has been clapped into Fist since Bills were invented? I'm sure my Verses— dribble down daintily, as Bro. Bunnyan hast, as well as the best Sing-song in e'er a Pilgrim's Progress of 'em all. But since these are great words, and Comparisons are odious, I'll make an end of 'em, and only assure those whom it may concern,— That 'tis all perfectly new; 'tis all mirth,— and I know not what else 'tis recommends a Rattle to Children, and Bartlomew▪ Fair to Fools. But if any chance to stick somewhere or other on something that looks like Reason, which I'll engage shan't fall out often enough to choke 'em, why 'tis but taking a small leap, and They be safe and sound upon the Terra firma of Nonsense again.— But now for the middlesized man, just in the Centre of Gravity, between wise and fool,— that cruel Indifferent, which not a whining Lover in Chistendom but shall tell you, is a thousand times more unsupportable than flat and plain hating. What's to be done with this most unhoopable Reader? I doubt he'll make as doleful a clatter among my poor Maggots, as Lucian's Colossus, quarrelling and hunching about for Elbow-room in the Parliament of the Gods, who broke holes in the very Roof of Olympus with his Steeple Crown. This is that dreadful sort of Animal, as common, and tasty, and mischievous in the Playhouse, as the Mesquito in hotter Countries, or Gnats in the Fenlands. By this time I suppose you know what I mean by all this clutter; neither better nor worse than that sort of Creature called a Critic: And he 'tis likely Tooth and Nail falls aboard the manner of my work. Right Worshipful. — 'Tis strained,— affected,— full of Longe-petites, store of Incongruities,— Uncorrect,— Tedious— Digressions, long-Comment run away with the Text, etc. If you have any thing more Mr. Critic! pray speak now, or for ever after hold your peace! No: This some will say is more than enough, because unanswerable. But softly; One's Tale's good till another's is told. Is any thing strained or obscure? In such uncommon Subjects, so purely out of the Road, how can the Superstructure be otherwise! Pray what Author could I consult ●o pillage a sparkling Verse from here and there, or, like some Chymic Angel (as a late Author or two have it) to nimm a golden Fancy, on such Themes as these? Would some good Body would advise what Shop in Paul's Churchyard, Ducklane, or Little-Brittain, I should consult to find a Treatise of the Causes, Essence and Property's of a piece of Gingerbread, or in what part of the Transactions of the Royal Society, I should find how many yards a nimble Louse reaches at Hop-Stride-and-Jump? This too, by the way, may in some measure excuse my Digressions, tho' even those may, like an Episode in a Play, be so managed as to become a Grace, rather than a Blurr to the design, if they bened too many;— if proceeding naturally from the main design, and all helping towards it;— if not over-tedious; all which Requisites, or most of 'em, will, I hope, square with mine. For the filling so much of the Book with Explanation,— Let's discourse here for a while very gravely. Is't not better to do thus than leave the Grammarians a thousand year hence to scratch, and bite, and break one another's Heads about one's meaning, as they do now about Perseus', where, may be, like the Quakers, we deny meanings, and have, in that place, none at all. How would poor Homer bless himself, were he, like his own Ulysseses, to return, and find how he is, since his Death too, improved into a Statuary, a Captain, a Moralist, a Politician, and would you think it? a Divine too, and a thousand other things he never so much as thought or dreamt of, poor old-Fellow, since the hour he was born! But supposing the worst, or, if you please, granting it, that Roguy Time should be so sacrilegiously hungry as to devour all these fine things in a Twelvemonth and a day, (as 'twould be a great Temptation, I'll assure ye, to one sharp set to find 'em under Pies;) Yet, when for the reason before alleged, it is impossible to have every where common Notions on so uncommon Subjects, I have by these Notes endeavoured to make all plain to the meanest Capacity, with as much brevity as could consist with clearness. Nor in this very case is a noble Example wanting, were't not against the Rules of Decency, to defend so little a thing with such great Authority. For the Incongruities, which I doubt not may, if any whose Eyes are sharpened with Prejudice, or judgement, look close on 'em, be easily observed, (besides the Carelessness and undress with which in many places the Verse appears:) First, I remember I'm neither writing a Supposition in Philosophy, nor a System of Divinity, nor an Epic Poem, where indeed all aught to be most religiously observed. What was said by a person, however by Wits of a greater Genius exposed, yet certainly, if thirty Years Experience be any thing, no Fool in Poetry, has certainly a great deal of truth in't. 
— He that servilely creeps after Sense,  
Is safe, but ne'er shall reach at Excellence. — Or somewhat like it; tho' perhaps he may be as apt to censure others in that case, as many have him. If this bened enough, I would desire such as are yet dissatisfied, to take notice, that tho' for Reasons told half-an-hour-agon, this was printed, yet I could never be vain enough to think 'twould procure the Author much Reputation; and therefore, as I wasn't over ambitious of seeing my worthy Name adorning a Pissing-Post, or glittering in a Term-Catalogue, so nor did I think it worth the while to throw away better time in making it more correct, or showing it to any person, not troubling my few Friends with my Resolution to publish it. If any are so unconscionable, that all this won't satisfy '●m, but either for old Acquaintance, or new Remembrance they must be finding or making faults, the comfort on't is, I have the same liberty, and am as free to think what I please of theirs, if ever they have or may come under the Predicament of the Author▪— I can't remember any thing more, but,— You be very welcome Gentlemen! And therefore to conclude, with the help of the Academy of Compliments, and my Bookseller's Epistle,  
So I rest, Yours, Yours, Yours, In ten thousand Obligations of Love and Service, etc.   

Books lately published by J. Dunton.  
A Very delightful and useful Treatise, Entitled, Heavenly Pastime, or pleasant Observations on all the most remarkable passages throughout the Holy Bible of the Old and New Testament, newly Allegorized, in several pleasant Dialogues, Poems, Similitudes, Paraphrases, and Divine Fancies: To which is added, (1) The miraculous manner of the production of our Old Grandmother Eve, with the supposed manner of Adam's first Nuptial Addresses to her, and the pleasant Circumstances of their Marriage. (2) You have an Account of Eve's first Addresses to Adam, and her Industry in making a Garment for her Husband. (3) You have a pleasant Account of Adam and Eve's Winter Suits, their Lodging and first Building, with an Account in what pretty manner they first invented a fire to warm them. (4) You have abundance of supposed Dialogues, very full of delightful reading, etc.  
The Pilgrim's Guide: To which is added, The Sick Man's Passing-bell. Both by john Dunton.  
A Continuation of Morning-Exercise Questions and Cases of Conscience, practically resolved by 31 Reverend and able Divines in the City of London. In a large 4 to.  
The Progress of Sin, or the Travels of Ungodliness, in an Allegory. As also the manner of his Apprehension, Arraignment, Trial, Condemnation and Execution. The second Edition: To which is now added, Vngodliness' Voyage to Sea, with many pleasant Additions besides. By B. Keach. Illustrated with five lively Cuts. Price bound 1 s.  
The Travels of True Godliness, in an Allegory. The seventh Edition: To which is now added five lively Cuts, together with True Godliness' Voyage to Sea, with many new Additions besides. By B. K●a●h, Author of War with the Devil. Price Bound 1 s.   

Maggots,  

On a Maggot.  
THE Maggot Bites, I must begin:  
Muse! pray be civil! enter in!  
Ransack my addled pate with Care,  
And muster all the Maggots there!  
Just at the Gate you ' l bless your Eyes,  
To find one of so large a Size:  
'Tis true he's hardly full as tall,  
As the two striplings in Guildhall;  
Yet is he Jolly, Fat, and Plump,  
With dainty Curls from Snowt to Rump:  
(ᵃ) And struts, says jordan what he can,  
As goodly as any Alderman.  
The Law of Poetry's not broke,  
If, since an Horse in Homer spoke;  
I steal, for my dear Worms Occasions  
A scrap of Livy's fine Orations:  
(ᵇ) (And 'twill, no doubt, as much be said,  
By him, as them for whom 'twas made.)  
Within a Nutshells Pulpit large,  
As grave as judge that's giving charge;  
Swelling as big as justled Bully,  
Thus he holds forth like t' other Tully:  
Take notice all that hither come!  
(ᶜ) Romanus ego civis sum.  
'Twas I myself, 'twas I possessed,  
Scaevola's mighty Brain, and Breast;  
I was the Worm in's Crown, that made,  
The Hec. Porsenna's camp invade:  
I did the Heroic jobb: 'twas I,  
(ᵈ) That made his Paw, like Drum-stick fry:  
'Twould make the dullest Maggot smile,  
To ' observe his pretty motions, while,  
His Mutton-Fist did Hiz, and Broil:  
Of which I an account could give ye,  
(ᵉ) Truer by far than Goodman●Livy.  
When the Spark Tarquin did prevail,  
For all ●●oretia's Tooth, and Nail;  
And, which if true were ungenteel,  
Kissed her, poor Soul! against her will:  
Was't not a very pleasant Whimm,  
(ᶠ) That she should kill herself for him?  
When, I that saw it, durst have sworn,  
She was as Innocent as Child unborn;  
Pray let not Livy's sham's prevail!  
I was the Worm, in Pate, and Tail:  
That made the Matron bravely die▪  
A Sacrifice to Chastity.  
(Good Folks that Love your Necks, stand clear▪  
(g) For I must leap five hundred Year:)  
'Twas I brought down that Rampant Gipsy,  
(ʰ) Whose Love and Pearls made Tony tipsy:  
And, when she him no more could clasp,  
(ⁱ) The Maggot bit, as well's the Asp;  
I stood at the Beds-feet, Intent  
On her Last Will, and Testament:  
I come she cried, I come dear Honey!  
And then kicked up with Tony! Tony:  
But I'm not only bold, and valiant,  
For Wit, an't please ye! too's my Talon;  
And by a better Title, I  
May plead for God of Poesy.  
Than those whom each dull Thief abuses,  
In Doggerel Phoebus, and the Muses:  
When Virgil all day long did write,  
(ᵏ) And licked his pretty Cubs at night;  
I rolled about his Brain, and there  
Aeneas Good, and Dido fair,  
Now placed a Scolding, now a Billing,  
(ˡ) Sometimes begetting, sometimes killing.  
What e'er he of old Sibyl prate,  
'Twas I that propped his H●roes Fate;  
And when Post-horses he did lack,  
(ᵐ) Lugged him to Hell a-Pick-a-Pack.  
I am the very God, and like ye,  
That fell in Love with Mrs. Psyche;  
Let none my just pretensions scorn,  
For Cupid was a Maggot born:  
Then thrived, and grew, and by degrees,  
Like his harmonious Brother-Bees,  
Thrust out a Leg, and then a Wing,  
And Bow, and Arrows for a Sting.  
(ⁿ) And when I please myself to Dart,  
Into a ravished Lovers Heart;  
'Tis I who all their Souls inspire  
With soft Wishes, gay Desire,  
Melting Looks, and amorous Fire.  
Hold! hold! 'tis time to grow more humble,  
(ᵒ) Lest I like Phaeton, should tumble;  
I'll Mount no more, but here sit steady,  
Since I'm a Goddikin already.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[And strut, say jordan what he can,  
As goodly as any Alderman.]  The Incomparable Mr. Jordan, (quem honoris causa nomino) who has made London as famous by his Lord Mayor's day Poetry, as ever Pryn did Mount Orgueil.  
(b) 
[And 'twill, no doubt, as much be said,  
By him, as them for whom 'twas made.]  I suppose few Consciences but are a little too Costive in this Case, and for all Mr. Livy's Authority, are apt to believe Scaevola had other things to mind than making fine speeches, and round Periods when his Fist was frying.  
(c) 
[Romanus ego Civis sum.]  The beginning of Scaevola's Oration in Livy.  
(d) 
That made his Paw, like Drum-stick fry:  'Tis a known Story, when Rome was besieged by King Porsenna, Mutius Scaevola went to the Camp, intending to stab him, but mistook a Nobleman of his Train for the King, for this had his Hand broiled over a Chaffingdish of Coals, (like a Pullet's claw) but held it all the while unconcerned and immovable: see the Story in Livy's Decades, Vol. 1. Book 1. p. 78.  
(e) 
[Truer by far than Goodman Livy.]  For there would not be half so many prodigies in't.— He somewhere or other, makes an Ox speak— and why not my Maggot as well?  
(f) 
[That she should kill herself for him.]  Lucretia's Death, the cause, and manner on't is at every Schoolboy's fingers Ends— She killed herself because Tarquin's Son Sixtus had ravished her.  
(g) 
[For I must leap fivehundred Year.]  Supposing 'twere more from Lucretia to Cleopatra, yet that's a good round Number, and Poets have seldom been old excellent at Cronology.— Witness Virgil.  
(h) 
[Whose Love and Pearls made Tony tipsy:]  Cleopatra dissolved in a Draught of Wine, gave Mark Anthony a Pearl worth— I doubt know what.  
ay 
[The Maggot bit, as well's the Asp.]  To avoid her being exposed to the Conquerors Mercy, she clapped Vipers to her Breast, and died.  
(k) 
[And licked his pretty Cubs at Night.]  Virgil's Commentators mention that as his custom, to compose some 40 verses, and reduce 'em all into 8, or 10.  
(l) 
[Sometimes begetting, sometimes killing.]  This must be taken Sano Sensu. Take notice I mean Aeneas for one, and Dido for the other.]  
(m) 
[Lugged him to Hell●a-Pick-a-Pack.]  Aeneas his descent into Hell takes up a fair Cantler in Virgil; nor I believe, tho' the learned differ here, will any quarrel about this Circumstance; whither he road thither on my Maggot, or Old Sibylla's Broomstaff.  
(n) 
[And when I please myself to dart,  
Into a ravished Lovers Heart.]  And no doubt will be as good Company there as the Fury's Snakey Worms, which they are bound to throw into every one they bewitch.  
(o) 
[Lest I like Phaeton should tumble.  Who fairly broke his Neck from his Father's Coach-box, like Crashaws' Dwarf from the Pismires back.   

On two Soldiers killing one another for a Groat.  
FUll doleful Tales have oft been told,  
By Chimney warm in Winter cold,  
About the Sacred Thirst of Gold;  
To hear 'em half 'twould mad ye.  
To Jail how many Headlong run,  
How many a hopeful Youth's undone,  
How many a vile ungracious Son,  
For this has murdered Daddy?  
Yet those that tumble Books, may find,  
Unless (as who can help't!) They be blind,  
That Silver comes not far behind,  
But's e'en as bad as t' other:  
For this, who'd of such luck have thought?  
For this, tho' not above a Groat,  
Two Valiant Soldiers lately fought,  
And murdered one the other.  
Well! who can tell how soon he ' may die?  
Both, as good Friends as You and I,  
Their hungry Wembs to satisfy?  
Scale an enchanted Castle:  
Painted without some think't a kin,  
To that renowned Fort wherein  
Quixot the Great such fame did win,  
And with fell Giants Wrestle. (ᵃ)  
As kind as ever in their Life,  
As kind they sat as Man and Wife,  
O! who among 'em scattered Strife;  
That Petty fogging Fury?  
But this is plainly proved by all,  
Some Viper to their Hearts did crawl,  
And so they ' l find it if you call  
An Honest Poet's Jury. (ᵇ)  
A Groat was dropped upon the Board,  
This takes it up, That draws his Sword,  
And tells him it must be restored,  
Or else expect what follows!  
Each gives the Lie, and at that Word  
Each runs upon the t' other's Sword,  
And each, stretched fairly Underboard,  
In Blood and Liquor wallows.  
So Aruns, and great Brutus fell, (ᶜ)  
And so they fought, though scarce so well,  
So to Elysium, or to Hell,  
They sunk, I know not whether:  
So on New-markets Jolly Heath,  
The Hawk, and Hearn struggling for Breath▪  
Tho' not in Life yet joined in Death:  
Come tumbling down together. (ᵈ)  
Both grin at their expiring Foe,  
With Sword in Fist both Huffing go,  
To fright the trembling Shades below,  
Bloated with Martial Glory:  
Both in the Bed of Honour rest,  
With Laurel boughs, and Garlands dressed,  
Perfumed as sweet as Phenix-Nest:  
And there's an end o' th' Story.  
Yet take good Counsel, Courteous Friend,  
And learn by their untimely End,  
Not about Trifles to contend,  
Or with another grapple:  
Since Carrion-Strife has often wrought,  
Such mischiefs as you'd ne'er ha' thought,  
And murdered for a Silver Groat,  
As well's a Golden Apple. (ᵉ)   

NOTES.  
(a) 
Quixot the Great such fame did win,  
And with fell Giants Wrestle.]  Vid. Book the p. the of the renowned History of Don Quixot. Where the Knight was in great Peril by three dreadful Leather-Bottles of Wine, whom after a sore Battle, he at last Valiantly hewed all to pieces.  
(b) 
— [An Honest Poets Iury.] — 'Tis notorious how necessary Actors in any Poetical Murder, or Mischief, a Fury, and a Viper are— Vid. Virg. Aenead. B. 7. p. l. and if I may profane that great Name so much to quote it here, Mr. Cowleys Dau. B. p. l.  Virg. 
Huic Dea caeruleis unum de crinibus anguem  
Conjicit, inque Sinum praecordia ad intima subdit.  Cowley. 
(c) 
[So Aruns, and great Brutus fell.]  Livy relates it in Book 1st. of 1 saint Vol. p. 72. 〈◊〉 the first encounter, Aruns and Brutus both fell dea● from their Horses, pierced quite through with one another's Spears.  
(d) 
[The Hawk and Hearn came tumbling dow● together.]  The Custom of the Hearn when she sees th● Hawk stooping at her, and no way of escape, is 〈◊〉 turn her Long Bill upwards, upon which the Hawk not being able to stop, runs itself through, and so bot● often drop down dead together.  
(e) 
[As well's a Golden Apple.]  The Story is worn thed-bare of the Golden Ap●ple which was the cause of the Wars of Troy.   

The Argument.  
A Tame Snake left in a Box of Bran, was devoured by Mice after a great Battle.  
Written An. Dom. 1681.  
NO Monarch's Death, no fall of Prince or King,  
My humble rural Muse intends to sing.  
Let others strive in everlasting-Verse,  
First to make Hero's, then t'adorn their Hearse.  
Of stranger Tragedys I will complain;  
Low Subjects best befit a lowly Swain.  
Immortal Maro did immortal make  
The loving Gnat that saved him from a Snake:  
The Theme's inverted now, why should not I  
Give my poor harmless Worm an Elegy?  
Why should not I his luckless Fate bemoan,  
Wronged and abused by all, but wronging none?  
Bred in the Fields, he oft was bruised and broke  
By every cross-grained Traveller's cruel stroke;  
At length he leaves th' unhospitable Air,  
And to the Town's Asylum does repair;  
There all his Tricks and all his Slights imparts,  
●o to revive his Patron's drooping Hearts:  
Now through a Ring he will softly gliding pass,  
Now wove a thousand Circles in the Grass;  
Now in a thousand folds himself he will tie,  
Which with the Oraculous Gordian Knot shall vie:  
This Alexander needs not cut in twain;  
Next moment finds it all dissolved again.  
Him no proud Lovures, nor Escurial's Hide,  
What has a humble Worm to do with Pride?  
A little Box which his kind Master gave,  
His Palace was, and would have been his Grave;  
But sacrilegious Mouths him thence did tear,  
And made their Guts his loathed Sepulchre.  
Epicurizing there on homely Bran,  
He Gluttony upbraids in wiser Man;  
As happy as a harmless Snake could be,  
Happy as Cadmus or Hermione.  
Erinys saw, and foamed, and raved, and grieved,  
My Snake better than her black Vipers lived:  
Unto great Moustapha she does repair,  
With leathern Wings forcing the burdened Air;  
Moustapha, cruel, secret, bold and wise,  
Redoubted Monarch of the well-teethed Mice,  
Approaching his proud Palace, she put on  
The form of Mab, Empress to Oberon:  
When the stern Prince of Mice in slumber lay  
Tired with luxurious Revels of the day,  
The Fury envying him so calm a rest,  
Enthrones a Viceroy Viper in his Breast.  
Then thus accosts him,— Wake, lost King, awake,  
Unless your last long Sleep you mean to take:  
That Traitor who your Brother once o'repowered,  
And on yond fatal Lake his Limbs devoured,  
When with Physignathus he went to view  
Regions before unknown to him and you;  
The treacherous Water-Snake hard by does rest,  
And will, I fear, attempt your sacred Breast:  
Rise then, if you be a King, and guard your Throne,  
Revenge your Brother's Quarrel, and your own.  
Thus said, no longer she above abides,  
But down again, down to Hell the Fury slides.  
Up starts the Micean Prince, and stairs around,  
And with his Cries the echoing Walls resound:  
Off from his Bed he leaps, and takes his Lance,  
A piece of an old Needle found by chance;  
Then with another skip he nimbly flees  
To his tough Shield made of the Rind of Cheese:  
A Guard he cries, with Scrieches shrill and long,  
And his bold Subjects to the Presence throng,  
Like walls of Brass they all around him stand:  
When Silence was observed at his Command,  
He thus bespoke his Princes,—  
— Shall we be  
Always content with sordid Slavery?  
Not Long ago stern jove fierce Tybert sent,  
Who all the Flower of our sad Nation rend;  
When freed from her a while we breathed in peace,  
New Foes, new Rebbels every day increase.  
And is this all the Guard my Princes keep?  
Thus could you kindly let your Sovereign sleep,  
Whilst a fierce Viper does in ambush lie?  
Thus could you undiscovered pass him by?  
Upon you Cliff, my Genius found him out,  
With feeble— wooden Walls insconsed about.  
There needs no more, if ye are Mice, begin,  
Stand to your Arms, and take the Fortress in.  
That happy Mouse that brings the Traitor's Head,  
With Garlands Crowned, shall round our Streets be led,  
And my Fair Daughter grace his Nuptial Bed.  
A dreadful new-formed Army straight appears,  
Bright numerous Troops of eager Volunteers:  
Unto the Castle their joint Forces drew,  
All Pioners, and all Assailants too:  
It's feeble Walls they madly undertake,  
And quickly the too weak Foundations shake.  
A spacious Breach but too too soon was made,  
But my Snake knew not how to be afraid;  
Raised his blue Crest, with Hisses filled the Air,  
And bravely does for brave defence prepare.  
Artophagus, the Young, the Fair, the Stout,  
Gets o'er the Rampire first of all the Rout:  
But the Defendant nimbly thrusts him down,  
And on a Rocky Mountain splits his Crown;  
The fall does all his well-head'n bones displace,  
His Brains Spurt out and stick upon the face  
Of sad Sitaphagus, who was combined  
By Friendship to him, as by Nature joined:  
Upon his bleeding Relics down he fell,  
Wishing for ever only there to dwell;  
He'd his desire, for, crushed with a huge stone,  
Even as in Life, so they in Death are one.  
Their fates enraged the bold surviving Crew,  
Who to the Breach like Bees in Clusters flew;  
With Ivory Spears some lance his chequered Breast,  
Some scaling Ladders raise, and mount, the rest;  
Undermine all the avenues, and some,  
Bring in Reserves, (without or Flute, or Drum  
All their Efforts as yet are spent in vain,  
Unmoved he like a Rock does still remain:  
Huge weights the Ladders crack, he sees his foes,  
Mangled, and crushed by their own party's blows.  
Great Moustapha himself does now draw nigh,  
And his glad followers voices rend the Sky;  
His Ianizary's to the assault he calls,  
Who like themselves assailed the tottering Walls;  
Swarms of fourfooted Warriors now had set  
Their Arms upon a lofty Parapet:  
A natural counterscarp of living store;  
The Assailants strove at first to mineed, but they  
Discouraged with the Labour went away:  
Here the Sly Snake swift through a Porthole goes,  
Unfeared, unmarkt by his presumptuous foes:  
With various windings he attempts to shock  
The now more than Half undermined Rock;  
No little Prudence, and no little pain  
Now loosed the stubborn Earth which did retain  
The unwieldy stone; the stone which now did bear  
Innumerable Warrior, who repair  
To the free breach, does on a sudden fall  
And in Inevitable ruin plunged 'em all.  
Loud shrieks here scale the Heavens, and a warm flood  
Springs up from the poor mangled Miceans blood.  
The horrid paint pressed from the reeking Dead,  
Soon turns the Living's sable hue to Red.  
Heart-chilling fear, and black despair around,  
The fearful, desperate Micean camp resound;  
They can't for the retreats late signal stay,  
He's the best Soldier thought that fastest runs away.  
The Mighty Dragon he has hired they cry,  
And raise a formidable Mutiny:  
Moustapha from his Tent does hasten out,  
By Love, or fear to stop the murmuring Rout;  
Now he persuades, and now enraged does stamp,  
Bidding his Guards kill all that leave the Camp.  
A greater fear prevails with some to stay,  
Tho' envying such as ran betimes away:  
The enraged Tyrant of proud Micea's Lands,  
Mounted upon a Captive Moustrap stands;  
His furious Eyes sparkle with boiling Ire,  
He breathes Destruction, Blood, Revenge, and Fire.  
Then thus Accosts his Army.  
Can it be!  
How long have Micean Soldiers learned to flee?  
Degenerate Mice! to lead you I disdain,  
Throw down your Arms, and e'en sneak home again!  
Where are those Heroes who with me could dare,  
And beat the Elephant, whose shoulders bare,  
Without a Trope, huge Castles in the Air?  
One of your Valiant Ancestors, in strife  
With Man himself did save a Lion's Life,  
And for his lawful Guerdon did possess  
By her great Parent's Will the Lioness;  
Tho' some may his too luckless end deride,  
Like Phaeton in great attempts he died.  
Was it indeed so long ago, when we  
Took noble Arms against the Tyranny,  
Of cruel Puss? (a Curse upon the Name!)  
Where are your Souls? where is your dear-bought fame?  
Well may the Rebel Frogs rejoice to see  
How their brave Conquerors poorly conquered be.  
Well may they rise against us, well may they  
Chase their poor low-souled, little Lords away.  
Shall one weak foe or forces baffle thus,  
And shall a Worm contend with Mighty us?  
O Rouse your Souls, and wake your Rage and Hate,  
Poor Wretch! Valiant he's not, but desperate;  
See where your mangled Fellows gasping lie,  
The Triumphs of his Viperous Cruelty!  
Be ready to revenge your Kindred's falls,  
As soon as the too tardy Trumpet calls!  
On then like Mice! the Manes of the Dead,  
Call for Revenge upon his guilty Head.  
A joyful Hum ran round the Camp, they shake  
Their dreadful Arms, and preparation make  
For General Assaults. This from on high,  
The pensive wounded Snake with Grief did Spy;  
His Walls were gone, his feeble Curtains rend,  
His food, and all his Ammunition spent:  
There's no hope; die he must, yet ere he dies,  
Amongst his Friends he will leave some Legacies:  
His battered Castle which must be his Grave,  
To his kind Master once again he gave.  
His Bones, if reserved from the murdering Hand,  
Of the fierce Mice, to make his Hat a Band;  
His Brains, if them some generous Mouse would bring,  
To them he gives who say he has a Sting:  
Who will give their sense the lie in mere despite,  
Although they see he'll neither sting, nor bite.  
This done, he scorns to sneak into his Grave,  
But will at least a noble exit have;  
Unto the Castle Wall he seems to grow,  
Ready to meet his Death, to meet his foe:  
Hundreds in Crowds over crushed hundreds come,  
Some to meet Conquest, most to meet their Doom.  
Wearied with Death, and tired with killing now,  
The Champion's Body, not his Mind must bow;  
Now first his Enemy's weak hopes begin,  
And Floods of desperate foes all round come rolling in:  
All round he glides, and be they ne'er so strong,  
Their Death he hasts, and does his Life prolong.  
But when ●he still increasing Enemy,  
Like a swollen Torrent does all stops defy;  
His nimble Tail about their Legs he twists,  
In vain his Fury every one resists:  
Then from on high down himself does throw,  
At once expiring with the expiring foe;  
Encompassed round with Trophys, there he lies,  
And in the Bed of Honour bravely dies.   

A Pindaricque,  
On the Grunting of a Hog.  

FReeborn Pindaric never does refuse,  
Either a lofty, or a humble Muse:  
Now in proud Sophoclaean Buskins Sings,  
O● Hero's, and of Kings,  
Mighty Numbers, mighty Things;  
Now out of sight she flies,  
Rowing with gaudy Wings  
across the stormy Skies,  
Then down again,  
Herself she Flings,  
Without uneasiness, or Pain  
To Lice, and Dogs,  
To Cows, and Hogs,  
And follows their melodious grunting o'er the Plain.   

2.  
Harmonious Hog draw near!  
No bloody Butchers here,  
Thou needest not fear,  
Harmonious Hog draw near, and from thy beauteous Snow●  
Whilst we attend with Ear,  
Like thine pricked up devoued;  
To taste thy Sugry voice, which here, and there,  
With wanton Curls, vibrates around the circling Air,  
Harmonious Hog! warble some Anthem out!  
As sweet as those which quiv'ring Monks in days of Your,  
With us did roar;  
When they alas,  
That the hardhearted Abbot such a coil should keep,  
And cheat 'em of their first, their sweetest Sleep;  
When they were ferretted up to Midnight Mass:  
Why should not other Pigs on Organs play,  
As well as They.   

3.  
Dear Hog! thou King of Meat!  
So near thy Lord Mankind,  
The nicest Taste can scarce a difference find!  
No more may I thy glorious Gammons eat!  
No more,  
Partake of the Free Farmers Christmas store,  
Black Puddings which with Fat would make your Mouths run o'er:  
If I, tho' I should ne'er so long before the Sentence stay,  
And in my large Ears scale, the thing ne'er so discreetly weigh,  
If I can find a difference in the Notes,  
Belched from the applauded Throats  
Of Rotten Playhouse Songsters-All-Divine,  
If any difference I can find between their Notes, and Thine:  
A Noise they keep with Tune, and out of Tune,  
And Round, and Flat,  
High, Low, and This, and That,  
That Algebra, or Thou, or I might understand as soon.   

4.  
Like the confounding Lutes innumerable Strings,  
One of them Sings;  
Thy easier music's ten times more divine;  
More like the one stringed, deep, Majestic Trump-Marine:  
Prithee strike up, and cheer this drooping Heart of Mine!  
Not the sweet Harp that's claimed by jews,  
Nor that which to the far more Ancient Welsh belongs,  
(ᵃ) Nor that which the Wild Irish use,  
Frighting even their own Wolves with loud Hubbubb●boos.  
(ᵇ) Nor Indian Dance, with Indian Songs, Nor yet,  
(Which how should I so long forget?)  
The Crown of all the rest,  
The very Cream o'th' Jest:  
Amptuous Noble Lyre— the Tongues;  
Nor, tho' Poetic jordan bite his Thumbs,  
At the bold word, my Lord Mayor's Flutes, and Kettledrums;  
Not all this Instrumental dare,  
With thy soft, ravishing, vocal Music ever to compare.    

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Nor that which the Wild Irish use,  
Frighting even their own Wolves with loud Hubbubbaboos.  'Tis the Custom of the Irish, when any thing is stolen, or other sudden accident, presently to set up that note, [Hubbubbaboo] the next that hears it does the like, and so Intelligence is conveyed swifter than by any Hue-and-Cry with us.  
(b) 
— [Nor Indian Dance, with Indian Songs.]  A Taste of whose Humour, and Harmony has been often enough presented at the Playhouse by the Indian Girls.   

To my Gingerbread Mistress.  
DEar Miss, not with a Lie to cheat ye,  
I love you so that I could eat ye.  
'Tis not that Gold that does adorn  
Your Bosom like the rising Morn,  
When dropping dry from watery Bed  
Sol shakes his Carrot-Loggerhead:  
'Tis not your Gold I mean to woo;  
Alas, 'tis You, and only You.  
'Tis not that Coronet which does shine  
With Beams not half so bright as thine,  
Which scatter Glories that excel  
The Nose of Zara's Dowzabel. (a)  
'Tis not the Rose of lip-like hue,  
Nor Virgin-Plumb's Celestial blue,  
Nor all the Nuts that plundered be  
From the sad Squirrel's Granary;  
Nor Pears long crammed in faithful store,  
As yellow as the Golden-Ore;  
Nor Crumpling sweet, with Cheeks divine,  
Yet not so fair, my Dear, as thine;  
Nor Custards stuck with Plumbs and Flies,  
Nor Heart-reviving Pudding-Pyes,  
Tho' queasy Stomach's them contemn,  
Bakeed on thy n'own dear Granny's Wemm. (ᵇ)  
Ah! 'tis not, 'tis not this, nor all  
The Goods in Cellar, Pouch or Stall,  
Which Applewoman does provide  
For such as make her Child their Bride:  
King Harry Groats with Rust o'ergrown,  
And Edward Shillings more than one;  
I'll say't, my Love, and say't again,  
'Twas none of these that caused my pain:  
'Twas first thy goggling, Egg-like Eyes,  
Like those in Mahomet's Paradise, (ᶜ)  
Which did my jacks-with-lanthorns prove,  
And mired me up to th' Ears in Love.  
Then all thy Dotes came●powdring in,  
The Mother's manly Nose and Chin,  
Thy Nose which (not thy Faces Friend)  
Keeps a poor Lover at ArmsArms end;  
Thy Chin which with kind Curl doth grace  
Thy n'own dear Father's Wainscot Face;  
A Mouth which should with Mopsa's vye, ᵈ  
Although Pamela's self stood by;  
Lips which like Paris Casements show,  
Still opening with a Guarda vou'z; ᵉ  
There Caravans of Spices meet,  
Not Western Civet half so sweet, ᶠ  
Nor mellow Ducks in Claret stewed,  
When Atoms were in Altitude. ᵍ  
But not to stay on every Charm,  
In jar-like Leg, and Maypole Arm;  
Nor how my Conquress did prevail,  
And wound with every Tooth and Nail:  
Ah! 'twas, as tootoo well you know,  
Your Hand that struck the mortal blow.  
That Mutton-fist, like Bolt of Thunder,  
Poor Lover felled as flat's a Flounder.  
Under a Willow I complain,  
And grunt, and cry, and roar in vain;  
And, as mad Lovers use to do,  
Pick straws, and— what a F— care you?  
From side to side I loll about,  
Idle, ungainly, lazy Lout,  
That was, ere you I saw, in sooth,  
(Although I say't) a dapper Youth.  
Here every hour with dreary Frown,  
I lay my Head on Elbow down:  
Help, or this Love will quite undo me!  
Hark how it runs clean through and through me!  
The sighs which up and downwards go,  
That I am near the Rattles, show:  
Think not that I false grief pretend!  
Alas, I weep at either end!  
My sweet Sweetheart, how is't you are  
So foolish? sure you be'ned so fair.  
O be'ned so hard! what ere you grow,  
The Baker sure ne'er made you so.  
My Heart, not only with your stroke,  
But my few Teeth will all be broke.  
Melt then to cure my horrid Drowth;  
O melt, although 'tis in my Mouth,  
Which waters at you; for 'tis true,  
Nothing can quench my thirst but you.  
Now my cold Fit is more severe,  
I shall kick up with mere Despair.  
These nipping Mornings pinch, and you,  
To me●d the matter, frieze me too.  
Dear Girl, for once, at my desire,  
Prithee, from Ice be turned to Fire.  
(What e'er my Readers Judgement be,  
I'm sure I here mean honestly,  
Such a kind, harmless, lambent Flame,  
As from Ascanius Temples came.)  
O warm my Soul, for Cupid's cold-Iron-Dart,  
And your more frosty frowns have kibeed my Heart.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[The Nose of Zara's Dowzabel.]  Vid.— The famous and renowned History of Don Zaradel Fogo;— the Lady of whose best Affections, (a piece of purtenance as necessary to a Knight Errand, as Mambrino ' s Helmet, or the Parallel of this Lady [Dulcinea de'l Foboso] to Don Quixot) whose Damsel that had woefully besmitten the gentle Knight, was, after all the Parentheses, Yclept— Dowzabella,— Of whom the Poet thus,  
"— Whose gallant grey Eyes, like Stars in the Skies,  
" Denoted, etc.  
(b) 
[Bakeed on thy n'own dear Granny's Wemm.] — A Scotch Oven.— A Traveller eating some Cake on the Road in Scotland, complained 'twas not well bakeed: 'Twas replied, that was impossible; for 't had been all night baking upon the Hostess' warm Wemm.  
(c) 
— [Thy goggling Egg-like Eyes  
[Like those in Mahomet's Paradise.]  Among the other pleasures in the Heaven of his own building, Mahomet's Alcoran promises the Mussal-man Bedfellows with Eyes as big as Eggs; esteemed as great a piece of beauty, it seems, by the Asiaticks, as great Lips by most of the Africans.  
(d) 
[A Mouth which should with Mopsa's vye]  
Although Pamela's self stood by.]  See the Description of charming Mopsa, in an ingenious drolling Poem at the End of Sir Philip Sidney.  
(e) 
[Lips which like Paris-Casements show,  
When opening with a Guard● vou'z!]  Such as walk late at Paris, and when the Windows open with that sound, avoid not in time, will soon, by their bounteous benevolence, smell out the meaning of the Allusion here.  
(f) 
[Not Western Civet half so sweet.]  Paracelsus is reported, (with a great deal of washing you may think) to have reduced no better nor worse than a Sir— an't please ye, into an excellent Perfume— Balsamum Apoplecticum, but Assa foetida to't,— and afterwards christened it by the cleanlier name of Zibetum Occidentale.  
(g) 
[When Atoms were in Altitude.]  Willis in his Book de Fermentatione, gives that account of Putrefaction of Bodies; He says, the blood, etc. ferments, and the Particles are highly agitated,— (and a great deal more, which, if you han't enough for your money, you shall have in the next Edition.)   

On the Bear-faced Lady.  
TOo charming Maid, whose Viznomy divine  
Shoots Darts around like any Porcupine! ᵃ  
Who give to Cupid's Arrows new supplies,  
Heading 'em from your Face, and not your Eyes,  
Like Cleavland's Lover, Pallizadoed in, ᵇ  
And fenc'd-by the sharp Turn-pikes of your Chin.  
Happy the Man to whom you must disclose  
The flaming Beauties of your Rainbow Nose!  
What tho' in vain t' approach your Lips he seek?  
He may with leave come near, and kiss your Cheek;  
If, as when Turks expect they should be heard  
At Prayer, you will but turn aside your beard: ᶜ  
All this were true, tho' Art should you disgrace,  
And show her own, instead of Nature's Face.  
But you discreetly choose the Russian way, ●  
And closely veil it till the Wedding-day;  
Not Stega-like, by too sincere a carriage, ᵉ  
Your Imperfections show, and mar your Marriage.  
You are resolved that Faith and Stomach too  
Shall meet in him who must be blest with you▪  
And by so just a Touchstone mean to prove  
The Metal of his Courage and his Love:  
Nay, joan, herself, whom he'll i'th' dar●●● embrace▪  
When the Light comes, may have my Lady's Face▪  
He has his Chance, it may be good enough▪  
For all Love's but a Game at Blind-mans-buff▪  
He who to meet a Devil does prepare,  
Like Spencer's Knight, may find an Ange● there. ●  
Missing a Snake, he may at last prevail  
To hold a fat, tho' slipry Eel by th' Tail.  
When Psyche through the Air to Cupid road,  
She feared a Dragon, but she found a God. 〈◊〉  
Suppose the worst, a Rival's spite has said▪  
Here's Spouse enough, tho' she had ne'er a● Hea●  
A just proportion every where behold,  
And Gold, the Cream o'th' Jest, remember Gold;  
Gold! Gold! those subtle Charms must needs prevail;  
Gold! Gold! enough, had she nor Head, nor Tail.  
Sure this must even the flintyest Heart subdue;  
Those Chains, those Pearls, those Lockets, all for you!  
What if no Cubs bless the ill-natured Joys?  
Look, she's already stocked with yellow Boys;  
And she  
May live like Etheldreda, undefiled, ʰ  
While you  
Lie with her Coin, and get her Bags with Child.   

NOTES.  
This Story, and the Lady's Picture— appertaining thereunto,— are notorious enough about London, without Explication of the Subject in general.  
(a) 
[Shoots Darts around like any Porcupine.]  She's pictured with a Bear's-head, and consequently, her face all hairy.  
(b) 
[Like Cleavland's Lover, Pallizadoed in.]  Alluding to that in Cleavland's Soldier;  
" [O let the Turn-pikes of my Chin  
" Take thy Halfmoon Fortress in.  
(c) 
[If, as when Turks expect they should be heard ●  
At Prayer, you will but turn aside the beard.  A late Traveller, and ingenious Observer at Constantinople, in the Relation he gives of their Customs in Devotion, has this among the rest; That when in the highest fit of Zeal, and Top of their Service, for an Amen, they are to manage their Beards, or else the work is left uncompleat.  
(d) 
[But you discreetly choose the Russian way,  
And closely veil it till the Wedding-day.]  In the Description of Russia, among Struys Voyages, he describes this for one humour religigiously observed in all their Marriages;— They never see one another till made fast.  
(e) 
[Not Stega-like, etc.  This old Lady, in the Play, out of sincerity used to let her Courters see all her Imperfections,— as her No-teeths, No-Eyes, One-Leg, and so frighted 'em all away.  
(f) 
[He who to meet a Devil, etc.  
Like Spencer's Knight, etc.  See Spencer's Fairy Queen; In one of the first Canto●s— instead of an old-Witch, the Knight found a brisk young Lady.  
(g) 
When Psyche, etc.  
She feared a Dragon, etc.  Psyche was required by the Oracle to be exposed to a Dragon, as Andromeda to the Whale— When in pops Cupid, like Perseus himself, sets her at liberty, carries her home, and all that—  
(h) 
[She— may live, like Etheldreda, undefiled,  Vid. Fuller's Church-History, p. 91. This Etheldreda, would you think it, was married to a Prince, and a King, and yet, by her own desire, lived still as pure a Virgin as ever— her Mother was when she was born.   

An Anacreontique on a Pair of BREECHES.  
GEntly flow, my easy Strain,  
Smother than Tempe's Heavenly Plain,  
Smother than ere Anacreon sung,  
Anacreon sweet with silver Tongue,  
When he by fair Bathillus lay, ᵃ  
Melting his softer hours away.  
No rough harsh sounds to gag the Voice,  
Nor hoarse Pindaric's grumbling Noise,  
●oft as the amorous Turtles call,  
smooth as the whispering Waters fall;  
Smooth as threadbare Breeches be,  
Soft as the Fustian round my Knee.  
Where shall I my work begin,  
And stick the Muse's Needle in?  
The Muses, which if Fame says true,  
Were Sempstresses and Tailors too:  
Where shall I use my artful Hand;  
At the Knee, or at the Band?  
Fruitless labour, fruitless pain!  
All my skill and time's in vain:  
Never will my Trouble end,  
I eternally must mend;  
For one hole starts out two more,  
Hydra-like, or three, or four;  
Patch on patch are new laid on,  
Till th' old, like Jason's Ship, are gone. ᵇ  
Matched full lawfully they have been,  
For sure none were too near a kin.  
From how many a narrow Hempskirke  
Has my Butcher cabbaged them?  
Spoils of Nations far and nigh,  
Mere Babel of good Husbandry!  
Not the jay could Feathers boast  
From so many a different Coast.  
But since Friends at last must part,  
Adieu, adieu, with all my Heart;  
I●ll, as Friends to Poets use,  
Give ye a good Name, and turn you lose▪  
Take your chance, your Fortune try,  
Pray beg or starve, as well as I;  
Trouble me with your Rags no more,  
Here's your Pass, and out of Door.  
Ever honest, ever true,  
You've stuck as fast as Shirt can do;  
Which soon, if you no longer stay,  
Will drop loose, and run away.  
Long did your lean Pockets stare,  
Like Chameleons, filled with Air;  
And what ever place were torn,  
They be sure were ne●r o'reworn.  
Generous sixpence born with Pain,  
Have often made 'em gape in vain;  
Now they ' l save that dreadful Charge,  
They can far cheaper starve at large:  
Take this Groat, and do not prate;  
Take the half of my Estate:  
Scamper now as well as I,  
To the barren Indys' fly,  
And see if e'er a Slave that's there,  
Is Master of a lighter Pair.  
Never fear where ere you go,  
You be sure ne'er to fall more low,  
Till yourselves with Earth you trust;  
Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[When he by fair Bathillus lay.]  See Mr. Creech ' s admirable Translation of Horace; Epod. 14. 
" Thus soft Anacreon for Bathyllus burned,  
" And oft his Love he sadly mourned.   
(b) 
[Patch on, Patch are still laid on,  
Till th' old like Jason's Ship are gone.]  The Story of Jason's Ship is almost as muc● worn, as its Subject; which was so often mended, and vampt up again, till not one plank of the Original-primitive Wood was left; tho' neither did that suffer so many Transmutations as the ol● Gentlemans Knife that had had five new haf●● and seven new blades.   

A Tobacco Pipe.  
IN these raw mornings, when I'm freezing ripe▪  
What can compare with a Tobacco-pipe?  
Primed, Cocked, and Touched 'twould bette● heat a man▪  
a Than ten Bath-Faggots, or Scotch-warmin● Pan▪  
Let others vamp their foundered Strength an● Age▪  
With Porringers of double brewed Pottage!  
And those who thus to charge themselves 〈◊〉 loath▪  
Breakfast upon a Quart of Barley-broath!  
Fire-balls of liquid flame; Death in each drop  
Let others guzzle at a Brandy-shop;  
Till all their moisture, all their Treasure spent,  
They stand, scorched Skeletons, their own sad Monument!  
Where each of these accustomed Cordials fails,  
Let others By't, and others blow their Nails!  
I have an Universal Medicine chose,  
Which warms, at once, my Guts, and Hands, and Nose.  
ᵇ Which like the noble Coco-Tree, is good  
For Physic, or for Raiment, or for Food:  
ᶜ All you experimental men of Thought,  
Who ever Whirligigs to Gresham brought;  
Which London with implicit Knowledge sees,  
ᵈ Made up of I's, and O's, and A's, and B's;  
Show me one Engine which your Stores enshrine,  
That shall Pit, Box, and Gallery with mine?  
When your racked Brains to birth some Embryo bring,  
That's oft for nothing Good, but mine for every Thing,  
Ungrateful silly man, who makes divine  
ᵉ Those who at first invented Corn and Wine!  
Nay he's begodded too whose casual Knocks,  
ᶠ On the Anvil, first found out a Tinderbox.  
Ungrateful Man! whose memory slips that Name,  
From whom Tobacco pipes Invention came!  
But his more bulky worth's too big for fame.  
Whose Trump would crack with that vast work alone,  
Nor any Pipe can sound his praise besides his own.  
His Brother- Glyster-pipe, that does ascend,  
And almost meet halfway at the other end;  
(New method for Impaling!) ne'er could do,  
That good of one side, which this can of Two:  
My Ambidexter either way will go,  
Now Struts above, now humbly creeps below;  
Above its Virtues, ne'er admitted strife,  
Below 'tis said that once it saved a Life.  
For, when One in that speaking Trumpet spoke,  
He laughed so long till his Imposthume broke:  
Up to its proper place we will now returned,  
(But wipe it first, or if you please, let●s burnt!  
For the Toothache 'tis a specific aid,  
ᵍ For every Amorous Boy, or Lovesick Maid:  
An hundred Med'cins used and used in vain,  
By each Old Woman taught to ' assuage the pain;  
By each Old Woman, who their Virtues tried,  
Forty ' year ago, when her third Husband died;  
Apply the Pipe! this Instrument will cure,  
ʰ The Surgeon's Fire, or Pincers scarce so sure,  
Tho' they the most effectual Method take;  
Cut off the Head, I'll warn't no more 'twill Ache,  
This gently heals, while Crystal streams distil,  
As from the Mother-Rock some plenteous Rill,  
(Tho not, like that, enough to drive a Mill.  
Thence Chrstal Streams with gentle murmurs flow,  
ⁱ Where little Nymphs may play, for aught we know,  
Fine Tod-pole Nymphs soon rotten and soon ripe,  
With tapring Tails like Sire Tobacco-pipe;  
ᵏ Like those which Virtuoso Glasses spy,  
A thousand times less than a lusty Lowses eye:  
Sometimes another way to work 'twill go,  
Up spouts a Deluge from the Abyss below;  
This Physic is more safe, (tho' not so fine,)  
Than Bumpers, crowned too oft with sprightly Wine:  
A Glass is not a better cure than that,  
For Care, or Toothache, both of which would kill a Cat;  
But if we sad experience credit may,  
The Pipe's o'th' Two by far the surer way.  
No Brawls, no Wounds, nor Bangs, nor Scars appear,  
With such as will discreetly frolic here:  
But Wine, confounded Wine one can't miscall,  
Wine on a Poet's word, 's the Deel and all; 〈◊〉  
That Fiend, when conjured up, I tell you true,  
Even with Tobacco-pipes can murders do.  
Wine, that mad Bully, for a painted Drab,  
With these blunt swords e'er now has given a Stab.  
When such as use my Pipe but wisely will,  
Employ its Aid to cure and not to kill;  
Not Bezoar stone, nor that miraculous Horn,  
Which decks the strange Invisible Unicorn:  
Can deadly Poisons subtle streams, as well,  
As my Tobacco-pipe, when charged expel.  
ˡ The long-lived Hearts medicamental Breath,  
Gives himself Aid, and the blue Viper Death;  
So, if this sovereign Antidote you try,  
On Spiders, straight they swell and burst, and Dye;  
To what e'er luckless Post the Plague advance,  
m 'Twill chase it thence, like Tires of Ordinance:  
ⁿ Tho' all around with bloomy Deaths beset,  
Here is the never failing Amulet;  
Tho' in the Cart with bloated Corpse you lay,  
ᵒ Like the blind-Piper, you might rise, and play:  
Fenced but with this Tobacco-pipe,—  
And when long hence you bless the welcome stroke,  
Then, when the Pipe is out, your Glass is broke;  
The Pipe, the immortal pipe if used before,  
To after-Years transmit● your Glory's o'er;  
For that can best (as you may quickly prove  
Settle the Wit, as Pudding settles Love.  
●Twill fix your judgement, render grave and sage,  
And make the Reason overtake the Age:  
For this his wondering Servants used to lay,  
ᵖ Before a Lord full thirty Pipes a Day;  
With this was Herebord acquainted; when  
He smoked, and writ, and spit, and smoked again.  
Poets the Glass with Fancy does inspire,  
The Pipe mounts our Philosopher far higher;  
And moulds him Syllogisms, tough, and strong,  
And polishes his Labours all along.  
Demosthenes' his works o'th' Lamp did smell,  
His o'th' Tobacco-pipe, and that's as well;  
And lest he should be idle forced to stand,  
When for a prop, it asked his Helping hand;  
Like such a Scholar, he, with wondrous skill,  
q Did a fine Hole through greasy Beavor drill;  
And when the ingenious Mechanism was done,  
Upon that Rest in 〈◊〉 plants his Gun.  
Sure when Prometheus climbed above the Poles,  
Slily to learn their art of making Souls;  
When of his Fire he fretting jove did wipe,  
He stole it thence in a Tobacco-pipe:  
Which predisposed to live, as down he ran,  
By the Souls Plastic power from Clay was turned to Man,  
And what, even now will make it seem more like,  
ʳ Some sparks remain in't still, if you ' l but strike:  
This had, i'th' dark the smoking Drunkard known,  
That he'd so much about him of his own;  
He never would for the cold Glow-worm grope,  
ˢ Puffing his Pipe in vain with Fire I hope!  
Not only with dull usefulness content,  
This Engine too is fit for Ornament:  
When wooing Cockny's Locks will curl no more  
Than his Good natured Father's horns before;  
When Christmas Box with little Wool is big,  
And Barber will not trust him for a Wig:  
When all means fail, what think ye in the end,  
But the Tobacco-pipe must prove his Friend?  
On this, till Half-asleep, with pains, and care,  
Ten-times as long as at his yawning prayer,  
In dainty Frizz he twists his frighted Hair.  
Hair, which would make Alecto's Vipers start,  
With whose sure Ropes he'll noose his n'own sweetheart:  
Whether she rolls to Hampton in a Boat,  
With gaudy-yellow-Tabby-Petticoat;  
Or mounting the Exchange, she bridles in  
The dainty Dewlaps of her portly Chin;  
Still younkers charming, dangling Locks inspire,  
Like any Squibb, whole streams of amorous fire;  
And the warm wamblings of unnamed Desire.  
Peaceful Tobacco-pipes none ought to scorn,  
Which can defend, and not alone adorn;  
When unprovok'd 'tis true, They be soft, and tame,  
And only big with calm, with Lambent Flame:  
So does the Jolly Cannons cheerly roar,  
On bright high-days salute the clustered Shore;  
But in stern war spews loads of deadly flame,  
As much a Lion now, as once a Lamb.  
So these when with no other weapons sped,  
Have many served instead of murdering Lead;  
'Twill either lead, or drive, and makes with ease,  
Either a Mould, or Bullet, which you please.  
When Hercules at old Evanders' house,  
Reformed from cutting Throats, to keeping Cows;  
ᵗ Cacus thought it not fair one should have all,  
And kindly dragged some of his Herd to Stall:  
The Hero swears to find his Victuals stole;  
And tracks at last, the subtle Fox to Hole:  
ᵘ Whose charged Tobacco-pipe as soon as come,  
Smokes even his Hunter out of house and home;  
This was his Sword, and this was his defence,  
Frighting poor Hang-dog, Club and all from thence:  
ˣ Heroic pipe! worthy both Pipes and Tabours!  
thou'rt Cock of Hercules and all his Labours.  
And now to relish a long Winter's Tale,  
O for a Nut-brown Cup of Christmas Ale!  
But all the craft's in getting it; 'tis froze,  
And drops scarce half so fast as Moister Nose:  
The Pipe to Pot was ever kind and true,  
And that or nothing must the business do;  
Heat it Red hot and change it for a Tap,  
'Twill quickly through the Crystal force a Gap.  
Now bring the Bowls, drink in your own defence!  
For now a new born River bubbles thence;  
This ever has the safest Course been found,  
To give't a Gl●ster, when the Hogsheads bound.  
Let stiff Don-Diego load the lousy Brush,  
That hedges in his mouth with snotty Snush:  
In vain he the far nobler smoker mocks,  
And in one Knick-knack wears both Pipe and Box,  
New fangled London thus perhaps may do,  
And ●●ke old Misses, leave old Friends for new:  
The West is the Tobacco-pipes chief Throne,  
He there like Saxon Monarches reigns alone:  
Wild-Irish-Brats, as soon as Breath they draw,  
Are dosed with a kind Cup of Vsquebagh.  
Discretion bids us learn where ere we can,  
Since wiser Brutes have often tutored Man;  
ʸ Thus Western Children, tho' not quite so ripe,  
As theirs, are weaned on a Tobacco-pipe:  
This does the Sucking Bottles place supply,  
'Tis Pap-Meat when They be hungry, drink when dry;  
When hot this cools, this warms when They be acold;  
ᶻ A perfect Kolmacho for Young, and Old;  
The Child with ne'er a Tooth, and the Old Crone,  
Whose two black Stump check such as say she has n●ne:  
Who, crept through fourscore year, with care, and pain,  
Has made a shift to grow a Child again.  
The Miner there, with an Implicit Faith,  
ᵃ Crediting what his Vpper-neighbour saith;  
Who seldom taking pains to Look abroad,  
Believes a Sun as he believes a God:  
For the Companion of his Hopes and Fears,  
Takes a Tobacco-pipe, ●well struck in years;  
ᵇ O●d as himself, lamed by som● Hurle●s rage,  
Short, and 〈◊〉 repid grown with nameless age,  
Still like some Sea-worn Cliff, it lesser grows,  
Just matched at last to his Commodious Nose:  
With this, nor was sweet Orpheus armed a well '  
With Harp, with this he si●ks almost to Hell.  
By some strange chance, from an old plundered Vein,  
ᶜ Like Tyrian Pickax, brought to Light again:  
See where 'tis fallen among a Ring of Boys,  
Who from it blow thin worlds of gaudy Joys.  
Fine, soon-ripe Bubbles, Alamode, and Gay,  
Dressed in the Glory's of the blooming Day:  
Bright as Court-Madam, tho' they hardly be,  
Perhaps as tender, or as frail as she;  
Created both by Breath, both upwards born,  
Proud in the Beauties of the Rainbow Morn:  
And thus, when sailing through the heavier Skies,  
By Breath 'twas made and lived, by Breath it dies;  
And that same Blast on which itself it rears,  
Dasnes● the airy jewel into Tears.  
A Wondrous turn! my pipe at last (You see!)  
Is Pulpit grown, and preaches Vanity;  
'Tis sign he's sick— Rogues at the fatal day,  
Thus curses use to ' unlearn, and learn to pray:  
Then from some careless Boys loose hand he flies,  
And tumbles down, and Breaks his Neck, and dies.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Than ten Bath Faggots, or Scotch-warming Pan.]  The Bath Faggots are so notorious for their exceeding Littleness, that two of 'em were carried thence in a Gentleman's Portmantean as far as Cornwall for a Rarity, one of which, to this Day (or very lately) hangs up there for a Sign. [Scotch- warming-pan] is the Hostess' brown Daughter.  
(b) 
[Like the Coco-Tree, is good,—  
For Physic, or for Raiment, or for Food.]  See the Divine Herbert's Poem on Providence. [The Indian Nut alone— Is Meat, Drink, Cordage, Sailing, all in one.]  
(c) 
[All you experimental men of Thought.]  Souse! comes the Critic with a Dilemma a top of this poor Verse; if [Experimental] quo ' he; how [Men of Thought]? Why to give a civil Answer to a civil Question— The Experiments must be thought on, and scolded, and quarrelled for too, both before and after they are made.  
(d) 
[Made up of I's, and O's, and A's, and B's.]  Letters often put for References in Engines, from the Picture to the Explanation,— and here, Mr. Reader, take notice, were I in my Sobers Senses, writing Reasonable prose, I should not be so saucy to reflect on those great, worthy Persons; But 'twill hear I hope be taken only for a little Spice of Furor Poeticus.  
(e) 
[Those who at first invented Corn, and Wine.]  Ceres, and Bacchus worshipped in most places of the Pagan World.  
(f) 
[Whose casual Knocks,—  
On the Anvil, first found out a Tinderbox.]  Vulcan, who being the god both of Fire, and all Ironwork, 'tis to be supposed invented that necessary piece of Householdstuff; at least there's as good Record for his making this as Aeneas' Armour.  
(g) 
[For every Amorous Boy, or Lovesick Maid.]  Among other new Discoveries in Philosophy, this is universally now received— That Love is the cause of Toothache.  
(h) 
[The Surgeons Fire, or Pincers scarce so sure.]  For the Toothache, (besides the present Remedy sold under the Exchange) some burn a Vein in the Ear— and if that fails— Out with't!  
ay 
[Where little Nymphs may play for aught we know.—   
(k) 
[Like those which Vertuoso Glasses spy,  
A thousands times less than a lusty Lowses eye.]  This is not to be understood, without stepping into the new World of Microscopes: where among the rest, One Mr. (what's his hard name?) Lewenhoec, a Dutchman, discovered in Rain-water Animalentes consisting of six Globubs, two horns, and a tapering Tail; one of 'em, a thousand times less than the eye of a Fat Louse: vid Transactions of Royal Society.— Vol. eleventh, p. 821.  
(l) 
[The long-lived heart's medicamental Breath.]  Natural Historians report of the Hart, that by the force of its Breath, Serpents are ferretted out of their holes, on which it feeds for Physic: vid. Guillems Heraldry.  
(m) 
['Twill chase it thence, like Tires of Ordinance.]  At a certain City, either in Germany, or France (Tournay or Towers I think 'twas) when the Plague was begun, by the command of the Magistrate all the Guns on the Walls were several times discharged together, which purified the Air, and removed the Sickness.  
(n) 
[Thou all around with bloomy Deaths beset.]  I have heard of one, in the great Plague at London— 65. That going over a pit where many of the Dead were heaped in, perceived a bloomy smell to arise thence, faint, like that of White Roses— He went home, told the story, made nothing of't, but in a day or two sickened and died of the same disease.  
(o) 
[Like the Blind-piper, you might rise and play.]  His story is known to most, sure, that know London: Lying dead drunk he was thrown up in a Cart of the dead, in the Plague-time; when he work he fell a playing, just as he was tumbling into Pit-hole, and so scapeed.  
(p) 
[Before a Lord, full thirty Pipes a day.]  A London Lord, who every Morning made his People fill him thirty Pipes, and lay 'em for service in his Study.  
(q) 
[Did a fine Hole through greasiy Beaver drill.]  The famous Herebord is reported to be a great Friend to the Tobacco-pipe: but wanting his Hand to turn the Leaves, invented a way to rest his Pipe through a Hole in the Brim of his Hat.  
(r) 
[Some Sparks remain in't still, if you but strike.]  A Tobacco-pipe strikes fire on a Cane— But that's not all— In the Translation of the Academy del Cimento, p. 159. Tobacco-pipes, if broken in the Night emit sparkles like a Flint.  
(s) 
[Puffing his Pipe in vain with— Fire I hope.]  A drunken fellow riding home by night with a Pipe in's Mouth, at last spied a Glow-worm on the ground, and when his Pipe was out, alights, and holds it to the Glow-worm to light it. 
[In dainty Friz he hoists his frighted Hair,] — Experto crede Roberto?  
(t) 
[Cacus thought it not fair one should have all:]  See Virg. Aeneads. Hercules' turned Grazier, and fed his Cows near Cacus his Den, who dragged some of 'em backwards into his Hole: — Hercules, as an honest man should, very careful of his Cattle, makes a Shift to tract him, by the help of the Calves. What do me Cacus but as you ' l find next note.  
(u) 
[With charged Tobacco-pipe, as soon as come.]  This is the most probable conjecture to be made of Cacus his defence— 'tis plain he smoked Hercules away— 'Tis very likely 'twas with a pipe of of Tobacco. See Virgil else. 
Faucibus ingentem fumum mirabile dictu,  
Evomit, involvitque domum caligine caecâ,  
Prospectum eripiens oculis.—  A very Periphrasis for Tobacco.  
(x) 
[— Pipe worthy both Pipes and Tabours.]  Cry ye mercy for the Pun! but I could'n for my Heart get ere another Rhyme.  
(y) 
[Thus Western Children, etc.  
Are Weaned on a Tobacco-pipe.]  'Tis common in some parts of the West, for Children, no higher than their Lace-peels, to sit Working and Smoking.  
(z) 
[A perfect Kolmacho for Young and Old.]  Kolmacho is an hard word— (In English (all heal) given to a new invented Cordial.  
(a) 
[Crediting what his Vpper-Neighbours saith.]  'Tis the Custom among the Spaniards, for their Slaves to continue ever in the Mines. Every body knows not to the contrary of the Cornish Miners— such as do, I'd entreat 'em to hold their peace and not spoil a fancy.  
(b) 
[Lamed by some Hurlers rage.]  Scarce ever an Hurling but some or more are lamed or killed— (Aware Critic here!)  
(c) 
[Like Tyrian Pickax, brought to Light again.]  Here's a fair opportunity to show one's Learning, and read half an hour on Barat-anack, and Cassiterides, but I shall only tell such as done't know't better than myself, that the Tyrians came hither for Tin, and some of their Brazen Instruments have been found in Old Mines.   

On a COW's TAIL.  
THou who didst round Cecropian Pastures rove,  
Turned Bull, an horny and an hairy jove! ᵃ  
(Tho' sure that shape had better served than now,  
When beauteous Io was transformed to Cow) ᵇ  
Who a mere Brute didst of mere Thunder make,  
A four-leged Lover for Europa's sake;  
And when thy purchase was from shore conveyed,  
(The shining Cargo of a Royal Maid)  
Didst to a Rudder turn thy wellhung Tail,  
Whilst her loose flowing Garments served for Sail:  
Pilot my tottering Bark with Aid Divine,  
Venturing through Seas far more unknown than thine!  
Help me in my Cow's Tail, the rest shall be  
Part of a grateful Hecatomb to Thee. ᶜ  
The Tail full oft above the Head prevails,  
And Heaven and Earth resound the Praise of Tails.  
See where in Heaven the Dog's bright Tall does shine,  
A Cynosure not half so long as mine:  
On Earth walk where you will, in every place,  
One tail or other slaps you o'er the Face.  
The Kingly Lion whirls his Sceptral Train,  
Roaring at the encountering Gnat in vain;  
The Victor Gnat in the next Fight does fail,  
And drops beneath the Cow's all-conquering Tail;  
That Tail which kills whatever its force withstands  
As sure's a Club,— in Herculeses hand's.  
When the mad Dog-star scatters sultry Bea●●  
And drives the tossing Herd to shades and Streams;  
Arms of Flies, of different Notes and Wings,  
Goad 'em all ore with their vexatious stings;  
Vainly does now the bare-docked Horse complain,  
And wish for his dismembered Tail again;  
Who of his Freedom used before to boast,  
Then gained, when such a Burden he had lost.  
(So the sly Fox, who of his Tail could mak●●  
Hook, Net and Line, at every Brook and Lake▪  
And when too faint he the hot Hunter fliest  
With pissen Tail strike out the Terrior's Eyes 〈◊〉  
When not so well he from the Trap had fled,  
But with his Tail compounded for his Head;  
To scape his salt Companions Mockery,  
He'd have 'em tail-less all as well as he.) ᵉ  
But now the Cow with brandished Tail falls on,  
Proclaiming open War with Accaron;  
Millions of Insect-Warriors at her fly,  
Millions of Insect-Warriors murmuring dye.  
So falls a murdering Chain-shot whizzing round,  
(Amazing, like less dreadful Thunder's sound)  
When through a Troop of Iron Horsemen born,  
Beneath the Reaper's Hook so drops the Corn.  
So when the scaly Lord of fruitful Nile,  
The dreadful Spear-contemning Crocodile,  
Is by his trembling Enemies beset,  
Trusting in vain a feeble Dart or Net;  
With his Tail's Whisk he long-long Ranks overthrows, ᶠ  
And stalks in Triumph o'er his prostrate Foes.  
The Turks when they will their Enemies assail, ᵍ  
For a red Flag hang out an Horse's Tail:  
Unjustly done, when it must be confess't  
From this, the Cow's the far more valiant Beast.  
But if from cloudy Wars we start away  
To downy Pleasure's happy Sunshine day,  
There the Cow's Tail does other Tails surpass  
As far as the brisk Horse the lazy Ass.  
This the sage Priests of mighty Apis knew,  
What e'er the rude unthinking Vulgar do.  
Apis is gone; hark the lamenting Crowd  
Raving about, bellow his loss aloud:  
Apis is gone, nor can their Tears prevail; ʰ  
Yet they'd not care, had he but left his Tail. ⁱ  
Priests, Prince and People search the Stalls around,  
Until the happy, happy Tail is found,  
Whilst every trembling Son of Nile prepares  
T'adore the sacred Tail with two white Hairs. ᵏ  
Nor less should th' Indian this blessed Relic prize,  
Without whose kind support he sinks and dies.  
Where Orellana's Sealike Waters lave ˡ  
The steepy Banks with a resounding Wave,  
Or De-la-plata's headlong Floodgates roar, ᵐ  
Rolling fresh Oceans down each mouldering Shore;  
Where no proud Bridge dares the wild River ride,  
At a Cow's Tail the Indian stems the Tide; ⁿ  
Ferried without expense of Coin or Breath,  
Safe, tho' but a hairs length 'twixt him and Death:  
Safer than Damocles, when at the Board ᵒ  
A single Hair sustained the shining Sword.  
Ladies by the soft Magic of their Eyes,  
Like Angels, wafting through the scattering Skies,  
Weak prostrate Mortals dazzle and surprise.  
From Head to Foot, their Charms, their Port and State,  
A Cow's Tail to the life does imitate.  
Have you e'er seen a Nymph at some bright Hall,  
In a Triumphant Masquerade or Ball,  
Move soft and smooth like Gales of Western Wind,  
Whilst her loose flowing Train sweeps far behind;  
Even so, believe't, the Cow's Tail dangles down,  
Like supernumerary piece of Gown:  
The Ancients or Historians Lies have told,  
ᵖ Pure Carrots called pure Threads of beaten Gold:  
Tho' Goats Pulvilios hardly ranker smell,  
Nor any wrizzled Succubus of Hell:  
But all which to our nicer World appear  
●or Marks of Beauty, all concentre here;  
The Tail's Complexion is a lovely Fair,  
Shaded around with charming coal-black hair.  
Now, Tail right Worshipful! I'll lead thee home,  
As great as conquering Scipio entering Rome;  
Thee to a place of rest I'll calmly bear,  
Like Turkey Rams in a triumphant Carr. q  
For such as faults with my Cow's Tail have found,  
Here's a fair Rump;— Genteels! you be welcome round▪  
Hur Cow shall now with any Cow compare;  
Let any say her Cow is hurs, that dare. ʳ   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Turned Bull, an horny and an hairy jove.]  See the Tale of Jupiter' s transmogrifying his Divinity into a Bull for the love of Europa, 〈◊〉 every Post-dawber's in Town!— but rarely described in Lucian, in a Dialogue between Notus and Zephyrus. Quaere, in this case, as was said in another of the fight Bishop: If ● Butcher had here saucily knocked down the Bull, what had become of the God-ship?  
(b) 
[When beauteous Io was transformed to Cow.]  Related in the authentic Chronicle of Ovid● Metamorphosis.— The Chapter and Vers● you may find at your leisure.  
(c) 
[Part of a grateful Hecatomb to thee.]  This— Hecatomb is an hard Greek word, usually taken for a Sacrifice of an hundred Oxen.— But tho' mine be a Cow, every body won't see the Bull in the case.  
(d) 
[A Cynosure not half so long as mine.]  The Constellation called the little Bear, in Greek is Cynosura, which is in plain English, Dogs-Tail.  
(e) 
[Proclaiming open War with Accaron.]  The God of Flies,— The same with Belzebub in sacred, and Muyoides, and Jupiter Apomuyus in Profane Authors. Vid. Cowley' s Annotations on Plagues of Egypt, p. 82.  
" And Accaron, the Airy Prince, led on their various Host.  
(f) 
[With his Tail's whisk he long-long Ranks overthrows,  That Creature is reported to have a prodigious force in his Tail, with which he sweeps down whate'er comes near.  
(g) 
[The Turks, when they ' l their Enemies assail,  
For a red Flag, hang out an Horse's Tail.]  This is a Custom common with them to the Tartar, and many other of those barbarous Nations. If I misremember not, they deduce this Custom from their great Ottoman, the top of the Oguzian Family.  
(h) 
[Apis is gone, nor can their Tears prevail,]   
ay 
[Yet they'd not care, had ●e but left his Tail.  The Egyptians worshipping an Ox, is not orious; nay, that was one of their Di majorum Gentium; their Saints and little sucking Gods, were Rats, Birds, Cats; and Leeks, Onions, (Welsh Deities.) But the manner of Devoti●on to their Ox, under the name of Apis, Serapis, Isis, Osiris,— made even that too as extravagant as all the rest. Among other Perquisites necessary for the Election of a new God, which was every year after they had drowned the old; one indispensable was,— Two peculiar Hairs, and no more, on the Tail;— But why no more, nor less, as Dr. Fuller says, the Devil knows. This too explains the Verse following;  
(k) 
[T'adore the sacred Tail with two white Hairs.]   
(l, m) Ovellana, and Delaplata, Two famous Rivers in the Indys.  
(n) 
[At a Cow's Tail the Indian stems the Tide.]  Thus Peter Martyr in his Decades.— He says, 'tis common with the Indians to tie a Stick cross-ways at the Tail of a Cow, and seating themselves thereon, drive her into the water; who being used to the sport, swins very faithfully with the Cargo behind.— If any doubt of the truth on't, 'tis but stepping over for a day or two to the Indys, and they may be speedily satisfied.  
(o) 
[Safer than Damocles, when at the Board,  
A single Hair sustained the shining Sword.]  Damocles one of Dyonisius' Flatterers, admiring the Tyrant's felicity, was by his order to taste what 'twas, adorned with the Royal Robes, and waited on as a Prince; but for the sharp sauce with his sweet meat, when thus in all his Grandezza, at Table, a naked Sword was hung over his Head, tied only by a Hair, which soon spoiled his sport, and made him glad of liberty again.  
(p) 
[Pure Carrots called pure Threads of beaten Gold.]  Yellow hair was accounted a great piece of Beauty, not only by the old Romans, and that part of the World; but here in England too: Among other Receipts for finifying the face, etc. in an old English Book, there's a way to make the Hair yellow.  
(q) 
[Like Turkey Rams in a Triumphant Carr.]  Mr. Sands and others that write of the Eastern Countries, describe a kind of Sheep there, whose Tails weigh forty-pound a piece, and are always drawn af●er 'em by a little Cart.  
(r) 
[Let any say her Cow is hurs, that dare.]  Alluding to a Story of a Welshman who stole a Cow with a cut Tail, and brought it to Market, but artificially sewed on another Tail;— The owner sees it at the Market, lo●ks wistly on't, and concludes, if it had not a Ta●l too much, he durst swear 'twas his own: At this her Welsh Plud draws her Knife, cuts the Tail off above the place where 'twas sowed on, throws t'other piece into the River, and bids him now own it if he dared.   

The Lyar.  
FOR Naked Truth let others write,  
And fairly prove that Black's not white;  
Quarrel and scold, than scratch and bite,  
Till They be with Cuffing weary:  
Give me a Lie, tricked neat and gay,  
As fine as any Hedge in May!  
Most think so too, altho' they will say,  
Perhaps, the clean contrary.  
The Courtier first is counted rude,  
If he's with Lying unendued;  
Nay, when he's in his Altitude,  
He gives it Oaths for Clenching:  
The brisk and young sour Truth despise,  
And kick her back to th' Old and Wise;  
Wenchings the Gallant's Life, a lies  
The very Life of Wenching.  
Room for the Man of Parchment next,  
Whose Comments so confound the Text,  
And Truth's High-road so much perplexed,  
One scarce can e'er get at it;  
With his own practice not content,  
He will either quote, or he ' l invent,  
He will find or make a Precedent,  
And gravely lie by Statute.  
Next the poor Scholar loaden comes  
With packs of Sentences and Sums,  
Scratches his Head, and bites his Thumbs,  
For Truth is all his vigour;  
Like Lynceus self, O who but he ᵃ  
The Essences of things can see;  
When he deceives but orderly,  
And lies in Mood and Figure.  
Who but the Poet ought t' appear  
I'th' end? who should bring up the Rear,  
But he who without Wit or Fear  
Lays on his Lies by Clusters?  
Never of sneaking Truth afraid,  
He'll her with open Arms invade,  
And dreadful Armies in his Aid  
Of his own Hero's musters.  
Well, since on all sides 'tis confessed,  
A quiet life must needs be best;  
Who'd think it hard to purchase rest  
By such a small complying?  
Let him that will speak Truth for me!  
Truth the worst Incivility!  
I'd rather in the Fashion be,  
Since all the World's for Lying.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Like Lynceus self, etc.  This Mr. Lynceus was, you must know, a mighty quicksighted fellow;— He could see through Walls, Houses,— and Ships at Sea, at the greatest distance, and— But that's enough already to believe at once.   

On a Hat broke at Cudgels;  

" And then like greasy Coraubeck,  
" Pinned up behind— no scabby Neck  To show Sr.— (The Ramble.)  

NO silly Frog, nor Mouse, no Snake nor Gnat,  
Hag-rides my Muse, 'tis an unlucky Hat,  
Whose sudden Rise, and Fall I mean to tell:  
O for a Dose of the Castalian Well, ᵃ  
The Tunbridge of Olympus! well may I  
My whistle wet, for sure the Subject's dry.  
At School of Hat I've made a Pitcher trim,  
And sucked sweet Water from its greasy brim;  
But tho' it ●ent ●o th' Well so oft before,  
At last 'tis cracked, alas! and holds no more.  
Of all the Cover which have ere been found,  
Or black, or blue, or green, or square, or round,  
Crowns lined with Thorns, (with Reverence be it said,)  
Beavers with Wigg, a Felt with Loggerhead;  
High Cap of Maintenance, low Cap of Fool,  
High Cardinals Cap, low Cover of Close-stool;  
Little or great, broad, narrow, course or fine,  
ne'er was such an unlucky Hat as mine.  
When Mr. Haberdasher was content  
For many a supple Cringe and Compliment,  
To trust me for't at Interest twelve per Cent.  
From some good-natured Friend, I know not who,  
I made a shift to wring an Hatband too.  
Now all that see me wondering round me stand,  
Like Nuncle quite disguised in a clean Band.  
As if to N. or M. I backwards came,  
They on me stare, and ask me what's my name?  
They dream I'm grown pileo don●tus, free ᵇ  
From rusty Chains of lousy Poetry:  
But all their kind surmizes were in vain;  
Nature held fast, I soon grew Cat again. ●  
A Cudgel splits the Brim, new Lights surprise  
The sudden Breach, and blind my dazzled Eyes;  
Then lest the Fissure should a mark be said  
Of Satan's cloven Foot upon a Poet's Head;  
Some gentle Lad an't please ye! overkind,  
Like Bully- Hec's, buttons it up behind.  
Well, he deserved each angry Muse's Curse,  
For this but made the better side the worse.  
'Twas tucked so close, My Honour seemed to be  
One of Quevedo's Knights of th' Industry. ᵈ  
Thus had you seen't, you might be bold to swear,  
Armies of hungry Rats had feasted there.  
Since Charity saves him from just Vengeance, all  
My teen on the unlucky Hat must fall,  
Whose Traitorous Ancestors by King's command,  
Were with the Cardinals exiled the Land. ᵉ  
Those golden days, those happy days of Yore,  
When honest Caps the brightest Courtier wore,  
May they come in again, and quite displace,  
With luckier Omens, all thy luckless race.  
May'st thou, if that be possible, sink down  
Below the Scandal of a Poet's Crown,  
In Healths tossed up, pawned ere the reckoning's paid▪  
Then in the Kennel by thy Master laid:  
Then cried about with an old Coat or Shoe,  
Be ever travelling, like the wand'ring jew! ᶠ  
Nor will I ever call thee back again,  
Till Poets are made Lords, or Aldermen.    

NOTES.  
(a) 
[O for a Dose of the Castalian Well!]  In Poetical Jargon this is only a Variation of Helicon; but the downright meaning is,— a Glass of good Canary.  
(b) 
[They dream I'm grown pileo donatus.]  To give the Slave liberty of wearing a Hat, was either a Token or Formality of his Freedom.  
(c) 
[Nature held fast, I soon grew Cat again.]  Alluding to the Fable of the Cat turned into a Woman, who running even then after Mice, was again returned to the place from whence she came.  
(d) 
[One of Quevedo's Knights of th' Industry.]  In Quevedo's [Buscon,] or a kind of a Spanish Rogue, he has a pleasant description of a Fraternity who honoured another with the most Noble order of Knights of the Industry. Among other fancies this was one;— They buttoned their Hats of one side, only because the Rats had eat away all that Brim.  
(e) 
[Wherewith the Cardinals exiled the Land.]  In King Henry eighth's time, either an Order, or an Act was made, that none should presume, what ever figure he bore, to wear any Hat, but only woollen Caps then all in use.  
(f) 
[Be ever Travelling like the Wand'ring jew.]  This wand'ring Jew, (if there be any Truth in Ballads, as I hope none that reads this questistion) ever since the Death of Christ has been trotting round the World: For fuller satisfaction consult the Penny Chronicle of his Life.   

A Covetous old Fellow having taken occasion to hang himself a little; another comes in, in the nick, and cuts him down; but instead of Thanking him for his Life, he accuses him for spoiling the Rope.  
YOu Dog! ye ha' spoiled my Rope! 'twas strong, and tied,  
And cost I'm sure a Groat but tother Night;  
A good substantial Rope to give its Due,  
'Twould hold an hundred heavier Rogues than You.  
I'll swear the Peace! I stood in fear o' my Life;  
He vi & armis came; he brought a Knife;  
With which, tho' I for certain cannot know't,  
I doubt the Villain meant to cut my Throat.  
How e'er he spoiled my Goods, the best I had,  
He cut my Rope I' me sure, and that's as bad;  
I'll trounce the Rogue; I'll try from Court to Court,  
If there be any Law in England for't:  
Must such an Arbitrary Cur as he,  
Divest one of ones Right, and Property?  
No— if the judge such tricks as these allows,  
A Man shan't hang himself in his own House:  
And who dreads not such precedents as that?  
Nay, 'tis in vain! I'll ne'er referred, That's flat.  
When sweetly dangling 'twixt the Earth and Sky,  
I was rappt up in Hempen-Extasie;  
(Which all who viewed my lovely Snowt might know,)  
When all my dregs of Man were dropped below:  
The envious wretch dragged back my Stareing Soul,  
Just clambering up against the steepy Pole,  
And when with Liberty grown free and Wild,  
Chained it to a Corpse, (an't please ye!) all defiled,  
What Soul alive for both the Indys' riches,  
Would e'er descend to such a pair of Breeches?  
Le's hang him up for saving me, and then  
If e'er I cut him down, e'en hang me up again!   

(ᵃ) On a Supper of a Stinking Ducks.  
COme all you brisk Lads that have ever been seen,  
At the place that you wot of height▪— Clerken-well-Green!  
b First of all Merry Mac come and taste our good cheer,  
For our Hearts will all vibrate thy Lyrics to hear.  
One and all run and Saddle your Cane, or your Beast,  
And hasten full speed to the bountiful Feast!  
In powerful Gambadoes, or finical Boot;  
In a threadbare old Cloak, or a new Sur le tout!  
Or flaming with Fringe, or meek Kid on your Hand,  
With blustering Cravat, or reverend Band!  
Both peaceable Hazle, and Kill-devil Steel,  
Both Tory-Bamboo, and Fanatick-Brazeel!  
ᶜ Remember Batts Axiom, your Curtlass prepare!  
Whet Stomaches, and Knives! Here's a Bill of the Fare;  
Here's Duck upon Duck, for no more you must look;  
If you will have any more you must go to the Cook.  
I tell you the Truth, and I tell you no lie!  
They shine and 'twere Butter, or Stars in the Sky:  
Zich glorry-vatt Ducks but zildom are zean,  
ᵈ Whore should they be boar but about Taunton-Dean.  
If they stink Mrs. Muse your nice Nose you may hold!  
Disparage 'em not for They be bought, and They be sold;  
ᵉ Consider as cheap of the Poulter they had 'em,  
As e'er of the Higler— (the Servant!) etc.  
Here Dick, Black— Bess for thy absence should frown,  
ᶠ Look over thy Shoulder, and ' tweak off their Down:  
But prithee deal gently, for 'twould be no Wonder,  
They be so soft, and so young, if they fall all-asunder.  
'Tis true I confess, if my Nostrils can tell,  
They send out a kind of a Civity smell:  
Yet more than a Bustard the Poulter might prise one  
Like them, for their flavour like pasty Venison▪  
Some will say they have a whiff like a Wormeaten Bitch,  
ᵍ Or a Tartar R●goo, ready dresst in a Ditch:  
ʰ Or a cleanly blue-Pig— but ne'er keck honest fellow!  
For They be wholesome enough, tho' a little too mellow.  
ⁱ They be black, but where Indians do paint the De'el White,  
That colour be sure's most heavenly sight:  
ᵏ They dropped from the Moon out of Breath, and the Thumps  
Which they took on the Ground have discoloured their Rumps.  
ˡ Cozen john! 't had been better if ye had not been so fickle,  
But in our Garden-Cellar had laid 'em in pickle▪  
Tho' the Cook says They be sweet, I'll venture engage her,  
That the Ducks should ha' stunk with the T—'s for a Wager.  
Apothecary's Bills have full often half broke us,  
ᵐ With chargeable Vomits of Cardu●s and Crocus:  
When these Ducks from the Bumgut to Keckhorn would draw,  
And like a Turned— Pudding-bag empty the Maw;  
O Spirits of Armpits, and Essence of Toes!  
O Hogo of Ulcers, and Hospital Nose!  
O Devils Dung fragrant, and tarrified feather,  
With Snuff, and with Carrion, Ana, jumbled together!  
ⁿ O Jelly of Toads! India's hasty-Pudding!  
O Plasters of Issues champt down o' the sudden!  
With fat blubby Pease, that are grimy all o'er,  
Thick buttered with delicate matter and Gore!  
Well! If these you survive, I'll believe 'tis no Fable,  
ᵒ That Indians gut Adders, and bring 'em to Table:  
But after, if your Pest' lent●Breath sally on us,  
We will get to the Windward, or Mercy upon us!  
ᵖ Hoist 'em up with a Rope at the Fire! 'tis no matter,  
Tho' they drop in the dripping, and crawl in the Platter;  
So does the sweet Phoenix on Frankincense-Faggot,  
q Sat roasting herself till she turn to a Maggot.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[On a Supper of a Stinking Ducks.]  The story thus— At a Club of Younkers, after a Frost a couple of Wild-Ducks were bought. A thaw coming the day after, these having before been frozen hard, fell in, appeared all black, and stunk most harmoniously— yet, that nothing good might be wasted, the Purchasers dressed 'em, and eat the first pretty nimbly, not staying to taste it; but by that time, C●lon being a little pacified, advancing to the second, it drove 'em all off, and was given a decent burial at last in the Boghouse.  
(b) 
[First of all Merry Mac come and taste our good cheer!]  The name of one Gentleman belonging to the Club, old excellent at Lyric verse, which you may learn from the next line.  
(c) 
[Remember Bats Axiom, etc.  In the ingenious Dr. Bat upon Bat— 'tis thus—  
" It is a Law that holds with Saint, and Sinner,  
" That he that has no Knife should have no Dinner.  
(d) 
[Whore should they be boar but about Taunton-Dean.]  The Ducks were caught in a decoy-pond in Sommersetshire, and that Country having, 'tis probable their Bells, or Noses full of 'em, were transported to London for Sale.  
(e) 
[Consider as cheap of the Poulter they had 'em,  
As e'er of the Higler— (the Servant,) etc.]  Here is certainly some mistake in the Copy, and something or other is wanting to Rhyme to [Had 'em] which the Reader is desired, (if he can) to correct with his Pen.  
(f) 
[Look over thy Shoulder, and ●tweak off their Down.]  For had he looked foreright his Nose had been so egregiously affronted there could be no enduring it.  
(g) 
A Tartar Ragoo, ready dressed in a Ditch.]  A Dead Horse, on which, after 't has been airing in a Ditch for a Fortnight, or a Month, the Tartars will revel, as if 'twere the fattest old Barren do in Christendom.  
(h) 
[Or a cleanly Blew-Pig.]  For satisfaction in that Story consult the Poem concerning it!  
ay 
[They be black, but where Negroes do paint the De'el White.]  A humour of theirs notorious, of whom the Poet— 
" Who, in contempt, will paint the Devil White:  Tho' by his leave and mine too, whatever they think of White Devils, or White Men, 'tis certain they are old Dogs at White-Women, who, for some certain Reasons, (such as made Apuleius gracious) best known to themselves, are not behind hand in Loving them, perhaps because their Complexions differ.  
(k) 
[They dropped from the Moon out of Breath.]  'Tis the opinion of some Learned men, (too great and grave to be affronted with seeing their Names here) That Wildfowl, Storks, Woodcocks, etc. fly away at the Winter's end to the Moon, or some Islands in the Air near it; and thence at Winter return again. Who knows what may be?  
(l) 
[Cousin john, 't had been better, etc.—  
Garden-Cellar had laid 'em in pickle.]  One of the Company, sometimes known by that Name, was at first for giving 'em their Nunc dimittis into Boghouse.  
(m) 
[With chargeable Vomits of Carduus, and Crocus.]  I thought I should catch you napping, cries Mr. Critic, (or he may if he will) how long has Carduus-posset been so wonderful chargeable? Ans. 1. If not chargeable Simpliciter, 'tis Secundum quid— There's a Apothecary's large bill, and Paracelsian Conscience in the Case. Is that Insufficient— why have at another of 'em— 'Tis true in sensu composito, tho' not diviso, as the learned have it— thus tho' one alone be ned dear, both together may. If neither of all this pother will satisfy, why I can easily stop your Mouth with Bays answer, which if thought on sooner might have saved all this.  
Why 'tis Sir— because Sir— why what's that to you Sir? Rehearsal.  
(n) 
[O Jelly of Toads! India's hasty-Pudding.]  'Tis their custom to get a great jar, and among other Ingredients, as Wine, chamberpots, Tobacco, spital, they clap in three or four good sizeable Toads— this stopped up till all is dissolved, is their very Nectar, with which they ' l be as drunk as a Prince— a Beggar— a Tinker— a Wheel-barrow, or David's Sow.— 'Tis no Fable, but credibly related by most that write of 'em— as Baratti's Travels, Gauges Travels, etc.  
(o) 
[That Indians gut Adders, and bring 'em to Table.]  Snakes are a Princely Dish in those Country's.  
(p) 
[Hoist 'em up with a Rope at the Fire!]  They were roasted in a String.  
(q) 
[Sat Roasting herself till she turn to a Maggot.]  In the Fable of the Phoenix, 'tis reported, that after the old one is burnt, a Worm first comes out of its Ashes, and so— and so— and so.   

To the Laud and Praise of a Shock Bitch.  
ᵃ LEt lofty Greek and Latin go,  
And Priscian cracked from top to Toe,  
Since he at School full often so Misused us;  
From High and mighty Lines I fall,  
At powerful Shock's imperious Call,  
And now in downright Doggrel crawl My Muse does.  
Tho' my froze Hogshead e'en is burst, b  
I'll do what none before e'er durst,  
And on her Praises make the first Adventure;  
O for some Album-Graecum now!  
'Twould clear my musty pipes I trow;  
Then would I yelp as loud as thou, ᶜ  
Old Stentor!  
Come hither Shock; I'll ne'er complain,  
Nor kick thee from my Lap again,  
Tho' other Lips thy Mouth so dainty touches;  
Give me one Buss, I'll prise thee more  
Than tinsiled Lord does brazen Whore;  
Or then— or then— or then— or then● Nobody.  
Let lousy Poets sit and chat  
Of Money, and they know not what!  
Of Love, and Honour, and all that So silly!  
Let Play-house-Hero's live or die,  
Or spew, or stink, or swear, or lie,  
To court the Glance of one bright Eye From Philly!  
Let the entranced loving Ass  
A Picture woo, and buss the Glass,  
Covering his Mistresses surpassing Beauty!  
Then steal from Cowley, or from Don,  
(Since none will miss 'em when They be gone)  
Two hundred thousand Stanza's on ᵈ  
Her Shoo-ty!  
All other Fairs avaunt, avaunt,  
For Shock's sweet praise my Muse must chant,  
And sweat, (ah, would she would!) in Rant ᵉ Extatic.  
'Tis Shock alone is my desire,  
She does my addled pate inspire,  
As much as any Muse, with Fire Poetic.  
View every Limb in every part,  
From Head to Tail, from Rump to Heart,  
You will find she not one Pin from Art Has gotten;  
When Courtly Dames so gaudy, tho'  
They dress their mouths in pimlico,  
A Dog won't touch 'em, they are so Ripe-rotten.  
Muse, what d'ye mean? what Flesh can stay,  
And dive in Helicon to day,  
Or swim in any Streams but Aquavitae?  
Put up your Pipes, to dinner go,  
Whilst I dismiss the Guests below:  
You be welcome Gentlemen! and so, Good-buy-t'y'e!   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Let lofty Greek and Latin go.]  And here let me tell ye, is a fair occasion to give you to understand the Author has a smatch of Latin Verses too— for some were made before these English on the same Subject: But for fear of clapping in a false Concord or Position, or so, (the very thoughts whereof will be dreadful, as long as I can unbutton my Breeches) I think e'en best as ' 'tis.  
(b) 
[Thou my froze Hogshead e'en is burst]  See the Academy de'l Cimento, and others, about the Nature of freezing, which rarefies and dilates, not condenses or lessens the Water. Thus a Vessel stopped close, with no vent, when frozen, if precisely full, will bu●st out the Hoops for Enlargement.  
— 'Twas in the middle of the great frost these were wrote.  
(c) 
[Then would I yelp as loud as thou, Old Stentor!]  Stentor was a kind of a City Cryer in Homer,— A speaking Trumpet was but a Bagpipe to him, (for all by their Names they should be Cousins) he would lift up his voice just a● loud as fifty men, not one more, nor one less.  
(d) 
[Two hundred thousand Stanza's on Her Shoety.]  Just so many in Quevedo's Buscon, the Poet makes on a Pin dropped from his Mistress' Sleeve— I think sincerely a greater Maggot than all nine put together.  
(e) 
[And sweat, (ah would she would) in rant Extatic.]  Once more, lest you should forget it, 'twas very cold weather when this was on the Anvil.   

An ELEGY  
On the untimely and much lamented Death of Poor Spot, as loving a Bitch as ever went upon two Legs, who departed this Life, An. 1684.  
O Spot! how dull a Dog am I,  
That cannot for thy Murder cry,  
Nor whimper?  
Tho' thou full oft on thankless me,  
Now from the ground, now from my knee  
Didst simper.  
How e'er, accept this grateful Verse,  
To pin on thy untimely Hearse  
Provided.  
Even so Renowned Bat of old, ᵃ  
A poor good-natured Hound condoled, ᵇ  
As I did.  
Tell me, O tell me, you that know,  
How Spot the higher Powers so  
Offended?  
What was the pretty Traitor's Crime,  
That her fair Days in Beauty's prime  
Were ended?  
She, ever vigilant and brisk,  
Her nimble Tail around would whisk,  
Like Fan. Sr.  
With Umph she never went away,  
But, by her mumping meant to say  
Anan Sr.  
She was not ugly, rank, nor old;  
Tho' she ne'er sung, she was no Scold  
Uncivil:  
Sweethearts she had, Him, Him, and Him,  
O Envy! Envy! O thou Limb  
O th' Devil!  
With Mouth and Tail, come when you will,  
She smiled, and would endeavour still  
To please ye;  
Although 'tis true, she was not Fair,  
Her Cheeks ne'er shined, her Muzzle ne'er  
Was greasy.  
One fault alone in her we find;  
Were she not pleased, she must be kind  
To Neighbours;  
Which brought poor Tray to a sad pass, ᶜ  
When he, to please the Lovesick Lass▪  
O'relabours.  
Well, gone she is, and who can help't?  
Ah! gone she is before she whelped;  
Ah cruel!  
Let none at too just Sorrows scoff,  
Now cross-grained Fate has robbed us of  
Our jewel!  
But since poor Spot must go and buss  
For our brisk Lord, old Cerberus ᵈ  
So musty;  
Come Lads, let's bid her all adieu,  
And own ne'er died a Bitch more true,  
And trusty!  
Go Spot, to the Elysian Plain,  
Go Spot, and meet thy Trey again  
Far kinder!  
What tho' Erynnis on thee scowl,  
And make her Snakes about thee howl?  
ne'er mind her.  
There Spot, be ever brisk and gay;  
There thou, without the Bans forbid, thy Trey  
May'st marry;  
In Fields gilded o'er with many a Flower,  
In Walks as fine as those of our  
King Harry.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
(Even so renowned Bat of old,)  Bat Kempster of eternal memory,— who has in like manner— (as Sternhold says) immortalised the memory of Captain Narbourn's Dog, which now must live as long as Bat in spite of Envy.  
(b) 
(A poor good-natured Hound condoled.)  Good-natured, because,— because,— 'Tis but looking in the Book, and you will know all better than I can tell you.  
(c) 
(Which brought poor Trey to a sad pass,  
When he to please the Lovesick Lass, O'relabours.)  Tray was one of Madam Spot's most obsequious and most humble Servants, but by being too complaisant and obliging, had almost killed himself. This is no Tale, but a sad Truth,— Ask all the Neighbours else.  
(d) 
(For our brisk Lord, old Cerberus.)  My Lord was Tray's Successor: of him see more, and Spot too, in the (Carmen Cynegeticon.)   

A Box made like an Egg, was between jest and Earnest, between Stolen and Borrowed; but at last, (see the Honesty!) after a Year's Possession, restored with this in the Belly on't.  
AS an Egg is Full of Meat,  
So, in sooth, am I of Sorrow,  
That your Box so fine, so neat,  
I without your leave should borrow.  
Now I sigh, and now I groan,  
O'er and o'er the Crime repented;  
Moan and sob, and sob and Moan,  
To my very Gu●s tormented.  
How did I in Doggrel Rhymes,  
Mind my fault, and wail and grieve it?  
Should I tell you twenty times,  
ne'er the sooner you'd believe it.  
But since your Box has, fie upon't!  
Brought me to so much Confusion;  
To the lawful Owner on't  
Thus I make a Restitution.  
Down to Dinner now they call,  
Gizzard now begins to grumble;  
Pray my Service unto all,  
So I rest,  
Your Servant Humble, etc.   

The Beggar and Poet.  
HAppy the Man who free from Care and Strife, ●  
With Dog and Bell gropes through the Road of Life!  
Beggar at large, without o● Fear, or Shame,  
He'll all the World his Benefactors name.  
He, like the famous ancient Scythian Race, ᵇ  
Shifts not himself as often as his place.  
Tired with the pillage of one fruitful Plain,  
He and his Cattle soon decamp again:  
He with a proud Repulse when warmly vexed,  
Throws you a hearty Curse, and tries the next.  
No long Harangues to squeeze the stubborn Pence,  
No Oratorical Impertinence,  
Nor grateful murdering both of Truth and Sense.  
He'll in two Lines compendiously impart  
The System of his truly Liberal Art;  
Pray Sir, the Gift: And when the Farthings stir,  
I hope you will never live to want it Sir!  
When Beadle Death does him at last attend,  
Let him go where he will, in this he's sure to mend:  
Death kindly Land and House provides him, more  
Besides the Cage, than e'er he had before.  
Thrice miserable they whom want and Fate  
Eternal Mumpers made at Learning's Gate:  
Their Souls indeed they cram with notions high,  
But let poor Colon live by Sympathy:  
To Honourable Beggars they give place,  
Lean younger Brothers of the lousy Race.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
(The Beggar, and Poet.)  I confess I can't very well get clear of a Tautology in this place: But for the defence of my Title; tho' many will tell me 'tis some kin to Idem per Idem, and that Beggar and Poet are the stark-self-same-specifical-numerical thing: Yet let 'em consider 'em as I do, (sub diversos formales conceptus) as the Learned have it; and then all's well again.  
(b) 
(He, like the famous ancient Scythian race,  
Shifts not himself as often as his Place.  The manner of living practised by the old Nomads, and the Tartars, their now Successors, is much alike, if not the same: In olden times they used to remove Bag and Baggage from Post to Pillar, as often as the Pasture was eaten by their Retinue. Some of the Fathers that have traveled into Tartary of late Years to make one Proselyte, give just the same description of their Manners.— See Hackluits Voyages.   

Plures aluit Aristoteles quam Alexander.  
ᵃ THe Great Grecian Robber of his Household was careless,  
Compared to his bountiful Tutor old Arles,  
Whose Barns, 'tis no wonder, grow fatter and faster  
Than his, since their Diet was Meat for his Master.  
ᵇ An hungry starved Army o'er Deserts and Stones,  
This lead till he fought 'em to nothing but Bones.  
But far more are the Slaves whom his Tutor does fetter;  
And you will see by and by how he feeds 'em far better.  
Like Tantalus, One his poor Soldiers did mock,  
And fed 'em with nothing but a Bit and a Knock:  
Sure they leapt at a Crust, since to frighten poor Strangers,  
ᶜ He built up their Cupboards as high as their Mangers.  
Tho' 'tis true, they as well as their Captain did far;  
He forsooth was a God, and could live upon Air!  
When his Army's all mortal, and poor hungry Sinners,  
Must eat up their Foes if they will get any Dinners.  
A hunting lean Glory through the World he does roam,  
While the subtle Philosopher batters at home;  
ᵈ Nor had all his Soldiers, tho' they scaped from the Faggot,  
One Mouthful of Flesh to oblige a poor Maggot.  
But Learning, tho' Envy unjustly does charge her,  
Crams all her coop● Household, tho' a thousand times larger:  
He could not afford all his Army one Sutler,  
She makes the fat Stagyrite both her Cook, and her Butler.  
See what a large Drove, which his Power confesses,  
Humbly ga●e at his Hatch for Commons and Messes!  
He kindly provides gaudy-dayes all the year,  
And this is a Bill of their prodigal Cheer.  
ᵉ A Scholar's light Egg picked as clean as a bone,  
ᶠ Or a worse than a Scholar's, a Logical one:  
Chimerical Pullet's, digested too soon,  
ᵍ Dressed at his own●Fire by the Man in the Moon.  
Such Dishes as these, 'tis confessed, are designed  
For Stomaches abstracted, and Palates refined.  
For your poor duller Mortal other Provenders found,  
And Coquu●, if he's able, will please 'em all round.  
Broth which for mere Element one may mistake,  
'Tis smaller than Tiff, and as lean as a Rake;  
So pure, and so clear, that 'twould Crystal disgrace,  
If you heaveed to your Nose, you may see all your Face.  
When at last the whole Hogshead of Porridge is o'er,  
And Colon still swears and grumbles for more,  
Sometimes you've a Commons, and sometimes you've none,  
The fat greafie Flap, o● the Prentice's bone.  
When they've served out their time, and at last are got free,  
Their Table advances, as does their Degree:  
There's Pudding, and Pudding, and Pudding, and then  
ʰ Like Aesop's Tongues, Pudding, and Pudding again.  
Let no man then envy the scholar's renown,  
Since ●ewer are fed by the Sword, than the Gown;  
Since the more They be the merrier, as ever they were,  
(Tho' the less there be of 'em, the better (they fare.   

NOTES.  
Plures aluit Aristoteles quam Alexander. In plain, sober, earnest English, [Aristotle feeds more than Alexander.] Which is to be proved.  
(a) 
(The Great Grecian Robber, etc.)  So called from the Story of the Pirate, who being taken by Alexander's Captains, and brought and accused before him, answered, undauntedly, that Alexander was the greater Thief of the two, who robbed with whole Armies, when he himself only with two little Ships.  
(b) 
(An hunger-starved Army o'er Deserts and Stones,  
This lead, etc.)  See Quintus Curtius' History. He lead 'em over vast Deserts to the Conquest of the Indys.  
(c) 
[He built up their Cupboards as high as their Mangers.]  When Alexander had conquered the Indys, at his departure he built Mangers for his Horses as high as a man could reach, and other things proportionable, to amuse posterity, and make 'em conceive a nobler Image of him and his Army: tho', as one says wittily, if his horses had eat no Oats▪ but out of those Mangers, they would not have been very fit for Service; for such feeding would soon have starved even Bucephalus himself.  
(d) 
[Nor had all his Soldiers, tho' they scaped from the Faggot,]  The Funeral-pile; it being the Custom of the Ancients to burn, not bury their Dead.  
(e) 
[A scholar's light Egg picked as clean as a bone,   
(f) 
Or a worse than a scholar's, a Logical one.]  Either the Egg made with the Scrape of the Eggshell, Bread and Butter, etc. or that appointed to the Scholar, who proving two Eggs were three;— One and one's two, and one and two's three,— had only the third allotted him for his share.  
(g) 
[Dressed at his own Fire by the Man in the Moon.]  Aristotle's own Fire, (which since he found, he is like to keep) dreamt of in Concavo Lunae.  
(h) 
[Like Aesop's Tongues, Pudding, and Pudding again.]  Aesop feasted his Master with nothing but Tongues, when ordered to buy the best and the worst of Meats.   

(ᵃ) A King turned Thresher.  
FArewell ye gay Bubbles, Fame, Glory, Renown!  
Farewell you bright Thorns that are pinned to a Crown,  
Your little Enchantments no more shall prevail;  
Look, look where my Sceptre is turned to a Flail!  
O who can the Bliss of a Monarch discern,  
Whose Subjects are Mice, and whose Palace (a Barn?  
In spite of cursed Fortune he Kings it below,  
While he looks all around him, and sees not a Foe.  
The groans of the murdered in Death and Despair,  
Ne'er reach his calm Kingdom, but die in the Air:  
Fierce Battles roar on; but too weak is the voice,  
For he threshes and threshes, and drowns all the Noise.  
ᵇ The Soul of Domitian sunk into a Clod,  
ᶜ Dyonisius his Sceptre was as light as his Rod;  
ᵈ And the Little-Great-Charles with his Shovel and Spade,  
Dug a hole, and lay down in the Grave he had made.  
But a thousand times brighter my Stars do appear,  
And I ne'er was a Monarch in earnest till here:  
On a heap of fresh Straw I can laugh and lie down,  
And pity the man that's condemned to a Crown.  
No Armies of Frogs here croak by my Throne,  
I can rise, I can walk, I can eat all alone:  
Relieved from the Siege of importunate men,  
I enjoy my Original Freedom again.  
Scarce peeps out the Sun with a blushing young Ray,  
ᵉ ere my brisk feathered Bellman will tell me 'tis day;  
Proud with his Serallio behind and before,  
He cheerly triumphing, struts along by the Door.  
Here's an honest brown George which my Scrip does adorn,  
Here's a true Household Loaf of the hue o' my Corn;  
Here's a good Rammel-Cheese, but a little decayed,  
As fat as the Cream out of which it was made.  
ᶠ When Death shall cross Proverbs, and strike at my Heart,  
When the best of my Flails is no fence for his Dart;  
I'll open my Arms, not a Groan, not a Sigh,  
Dropped soft on the Straw, with a smile I will die.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
A King turning Thresher.  I think I may venture to pronounce this purely, a Maggot, and so others that know no better may be apt to think too; but I can assure 'em the Foundation of the Story is as infallibly true, as any in— Lucian's true History.  
(b) 
[The Soul of Domitian sunk into a Clod.]  When his Envy could not be sated on the Christians, he left the Empire in Discontent, and retired to the Salonian Gardens,— as Cowley●  
(c) 
[Dyonisius his Sceptre was as light as his Rod.]  That Tyrant driven from his Kingdom, traveled into Greece, and set up Schoolmaster; where his Cares are here affirmed as heavy as when a King.  
(d) 
[And the Little-Great-Charles with his Shovel and Spade,  
Dug a hole, and lay down in the Grave he had made.]  Charles the fifth Emperor of Germany, who after as great a Rufflle in the World as has been made this several Centuries; after War, not only against most of Europe, but Argi●rs, in Africa too; at last on some discon●ent, or the unpleasing face of his business, resigned the Empire, and retired to a little House and Gard●n, which he cultivated with his own hand, and there lived and died.  
(e) 
[e'er my brisk feathered Bellman will tell me 'tis day.]  Meaning Chaunticleer,— as Grandsire Chaucer has it; or in new English, no better nor worse than a Cock,— that Baron Tell-Clock of the Night,— as Cleveland christens him.  
(f) 
[When Death shall cross Proverbs, and strike at my Heart,  
When the best of my Flails is no fence for his Dart.]  The common old Proverb here mean●, is, that— There's no Fence against a Flail.   

On a Discourteous Damsel that called the Right Worshipful Author— (an't please ye!) Saucy Puppy.  
A PANEGYRIC.  
UGly! ill-natured! impudent, and proud!  
Sluttish! nonsensical! and idly loud!  
Thy Name's a ranker Scandal to my Pen,  
Than all thy words could be spewed up again.  
Yet will I do thy ugliness the grace,  
To touch thee, tho' I'm forced to turn my face;  
Touch thee as Surgeon touches rotten sores,  
Touch thee as Nurse's T—, or Beadle's Whores.  
Belch of a Toad whom Hell to Mortals sends,  
ᵃ Vampt up from Bottle-Ale and Candles-ends.  
Hadst thou no Dick with whom thou mightst be free,  
Thus to let fly thy Whetstone-jeers on me?  
What Skip-kennel without his eyes offence,  
Taught thee all this Dog-and-bitch Eloquence?  
ᵇ Thou for Doll-Troop, hadst ended Ragoo's strife,  
He'd hvnged, and never ventured such a Wife.  
That thick deformity which daubs thy Snowt  
Would make a Hell-souled Ravisher devout.  
An Incubus from such a Face would flee;  
'Twould balk a satire more deformed than thee.  
E'en get a Mask, or with thy Visage daunted,  
The Londoners will swear their Streets are haunted:  
Below the Plague, below the Pox and Itch,  
Take your own Farewell, You be a saucy Bitch.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Vampt up from Bottle-Ale and Candles Ends.]  Not much more honourable than the Rehearsal's Parthenope.—  
— Whose Mother, Sir, sells Ale by the Town-Walls.  
(b) 
[Thou for Doll-Troop hadst ended Ragoo's strife,  
He'd hanged, and never ventured such a Wife.]  Monsieur Ragoo, an Officer in a Troop of Horse, having taken occasion to step aside a plundering, was to be hanged a little: But however the chance turned, he had choice given him, either to take a virtuous Lady called Doll Troop, to be his Wedded Wife, or else to snickle up: after deep consideration upon the case, and weighing the Circumstances, etc. he resolved to cast Lots; the Lay was so even, to decide what himself could not do, and so got the worse end of the staff, without Redemption to be all-to-be-marryed.   

On a CHEESE.  
Pinguis & ingratae permeretur Caseus Urbi. Virg. A Pastoral.  
AMoret and Strephon lay  
On a Couch of downy Hay,  
In the withered Age of Day:  
Blest that one the other sees,  
Blest with a spicy western Breeze,  
ᵃ Blessed with a noble Rammel Cheese.  
Each at the other darts their Eye;  
Each at the glittering Treasure by.  
A sight that Strephon's passion moves;  
Scarce Amoretta he better loves:  
To Amoretta's Heart so near,  
Strephon's self was scarce more dear:  
Scarce the Pride o'th' blooming Vale,  
Woven around her May-day Pail;  
Nor could either prove ungrate  
For such a Gift to smiling Fate:  
Oft with Vows and Flowers they ran  
To smiling Fate, and smiling Pan;  
Thus they pray, and thus they sing,  
While all the answering Valleys ring.  Strephon. 
Sprinkle all the dappled Mead!  
Round the Turfy Altars lead!  
Every Nymph and Fawn invite  
To laugh and revel here at Night!  
Jolly Toasts shall never fail,  
Quite drunk with nappy nut-brown Ale:  
Here's a Cheese would make a Feast  
Where a King might be a Guest.  Amoretta. 
Stay my Strephon! 'tis in vain;  
Too low and humble is your strain:  
You the Gift must higher raise,  
Or you will satire while you praise.  
Let stiff Princes dream alone  
On their steep unenvied Throne!  
Our brighter Cheese outshines their Crown,  
And weighs the gilded Bauble down:  
We'll a nobler Note begin;  
Call and rouse the God within!  
Sing the Cheese, and by his Aid,  
Whence it came, and how 'twas made.  Strephon. 
Each Flower that e'er in Garland grew,  
Amoretta! move for you,  
And every Herb that sips the Dew;  
Each their distant Influence join  
To an Invention of Divine:  
The Daisy's pretty twinkling Eye,  
The Infant Violet blooming by;  
Primrose of refreshing smell,  
And the Cowslip's spotted Bell.  
Fragrant Time, and newborn Grass,  
Where no rude Feet did ever pass;  
All their Essences combine  
To an Invention so Divine:  
Each of these transfused, agrees  
First in Milk, and then in Cheese;  
In the Cow's Alemby●▪ wrought,  
Whence, when to perfection brought,  
Amoretta's whiter hand  
Springs of Nectar can command;  
ᵇ Cataracts which oft prevail  
To overflow the largest Pail:  
And when the laughing Virgins come  
With their newfound Treasure home,  
Amoretta shall declare  
How the Miracle they rear.  Amoretta. 
Soft as Wool, and white as Lambs  
Licked by their Officious Dams;  
White as those fair Lilies grow  
In our Copps,— as white as Snow,  
Next the Creamy Curds arise,  
And with calm Glories greet the Eyes:  
He that sees 'em dawning, sees  
The Image of an Embryo Cheese.  
ᶜ So from Clay Prometheus can  
Mould the mighty Form of Man:  
So the rising Vision shows,  
As when the World from Chaos rose.  
Then 'tis bruised, and pressed till all  
The pale Tears around it fall.  
Thus when jove intends to mould  
A Hero out of purer Gold,  
he'll shut him up in pain and Care,  
And like Alcides, pinch him there;  
Till he by kind Afflictions trod,  
Emerges, more than Half-a-God.  Strephon. 
Thence in happy Triumph born,  
Like groaning Loads of Welcome Corn,  
On a cleanly shelf 'tis placed,  
With so rich a Burden graced;  
Or, lest the Foes its Walls attack,  
On a well-munited Rack.  
ᵈ Like Atlante's Palace fair,  
Towering high in yielding Air,  
By Ariosto built aloft,  
All the Walls of costly Thought,  
Or that sturdy Indian Rock  
ᵉ Which Ammon's Son so long did mock;  
There it reigns, and there defies  
Feeble Hosts of Rats and Mice:  
Up they squint, but all in vain,  
Up they leap with fruitless pain,  
Down they drop, down again.  
Reynard so with longing Eyes  
Views the Clustered loaden Vine;  
So when the Wolf a Fold has found,  
Fenced with Quickset— Turn-pikes round,  
About he stalks, and grinns, and scowls,  
About he stalks, and vainly howls.  Amoretta. 
ᶠ So the Titans hizzing f●ll,  
When of old they dared rebel:  
Olympus they on Ossa pack,  
Both on Pelions craggy back;  
And, against the Thunder hurled  
Half his own dismantled World:  
ᵍ On the calm Couch of golden peace,  
In undisturbed eternal ease;  
He scorns their Plots, and laughs above;  
So sits my Cheese, and so sits jove.  Strephon. 
This dear day the happy birth  
Of Amoretta blessed the Earth;  
All the Lads of Mirth and Song,  
O'er the Plains shall Dance along:  
And he that best can sing each Grace,  
In my Amoretta's face,  
Shall have the present jove has given,  
ʰ Shall have the Ancile dropped from Heaven.  
This praised, this loved, this envied Cheese,  
For a Reward shall all be his.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Blessed with a noble Rammel Cheese.]  (Rammel) is a word, I think not much used ●bout London, but common in the West, opposed to Skim-Cheese. Thus you find it pretty ●ften in Mr. Creeches Theocritus.  
(b) 
[Springs of Nectar can command.]  Hony soit qui male y pense.  
(c) 
[So from Clay Prometheus can,  
Mould the beauteous form of Man.]  Prometheus, being 'tis likely used to build Gae●les, and Dirt●pyes in his Youth, when he came 〈◊〉 Age, set up the Trade of a Man●founder, for 〈◊〉▪ Jove was so nangry (as well he might, 〈◊〉 to ' there took his work out of his hands, without ever serving his time to the Trade) that, what do me he but trusses him up, rive●s him on Mount Caucasus, and sent an unconscionable Vulture to tear out the Heart of him. See more in Tobacco-pipe. Read the story in Lucian's Dialogues, Book 1. p. 48.  
(d) 
[Like Atlante's Palace fair.]  A gaudy Magical Palace in Orlando Furioso, which cost Poet and Painter, and at least Engraver, a great many fine strokes to express it. The Lovure, or Escurial are but Hogstyes to't, as any body may be satisfied that will but take the pains to compare 'em.  
(e) 
[Or that sturdy Indian Rock,  
Which Ammon's Son so long did mock.]  A Fortress long besieged by Alexander, in Sagitiana, I think 'twas, but 'tis good▪ to be sure, and therefore ask Quintius Curtius, who knows better than any of us!  
(f) 
[So the Titans hizzing fell.]  Qu. Pray Mr. Author why is your Shepherdess so learned here, and in other places? how comes she to talk against decorum in Pastorals, and to fly upon the high●ropes at this rate?  
Answ. Because all things here are designed 〈◊〉 be alike extravagants— let this serve once for all for I'll trouble myself no more about it!  
(g) 
[On the calm Couch of golden peace.]  Any one may discern this is a stroke of Lucretius, alluding to that first Principle of the Epicureans, so well expressed by that Poet, and so much better made English by Mr. Creech— thus. 
" For what so ever's divine must live in peace,  
" In undisturbed, and everlasting ease, etc.  I have forgot the rest, but you shall have it all as soon as I can get it myself.  
(h) 
Shall have the Ancile dropped from Heaven.]  The Ancile was a certain very holy Relic among the Romans, being the very handiwork of Jupiter himself: but least this precious business should be stole from the Temple, while Gods and Men were asleep, two more were made so exactly like the right, and one another, that a Thief must have very good luck to be able to distinguish the original from the counterfeit. In the safe keeping it, they believed the Cities safety consisted.   

A Full and True Account of a Journey with its Appurtenances.  
ᵃ NOw heavens jolly Carman left weeping and whining,  
Scrubbed up Sunday face, and fell fairly a shining;  
The Cits are alive, and to— they run,  
As Flies from a Cow-turd will swarm in the Sun.  
Spouse Rampant takes Arms, Couched Cuckold she tells,  
He must get her a place to go visit the Wells;  
Not a Pothecary's Wife that is leaving the Town,  
But will pawn all her Glyster-pipes for a new Gown.  
'Tis the Devil that drives, and needs Travel they must;  
A long comes the Coachman with Bring out your Dust!  
So sweet is his Load, and so neat, and so pure,  
Yoked swear he was under-commissioned i'th' Sewer.  
Not a Fop of the Pit, or a Jilt o' the Box,  
ᵇ But dresses, and crawls to the Wells with a Pox;  
So throughly the Waters have purged all the City,  
ᶜ That They be strangely reformed, and grown civil, and Witty.  
Lest the Dunns my poor Carcase to pieces should tore,  
I●ll even like my Betters take Sanctuary there;  
For melting, or getting, or spunging a Penny,  
As poor, and as dull, and as saucy as any.  
But the walks were bepestered with Cravat, and Fan,  
And Beaver, and Wigg, and sometimes a Man:  
For curing old Aches, and getting new pains;  
For cooling and heating the blood and the reins.  
Old Sol from Aurora's Alcove newly peeping,  
While more than three Quarters lay grunting and sleeping:  
When routed Cravat-string, and Ruffles I'd rallied,  
From Dog-hole of Lodging one Morning I sallied,  
I walked, and I strutted along like the rest,  
And I thought hard of nothing as well as the best;  
Till a Bevey of Ladies swum hastily by,  
All finer than fivepence, they dazzled my Eye.  
I follow the Track, and the Vision pursue,  
Meditation farewel, now the Game is in view:  
Tho' I quickly got up they were entered before,  
And cruelly shut the unmerciful Door.  
Tho' my Eyes kept a Fast, yet my Ears I could treat,  
And yours shall take part while the Tale I repeat▪  
But Madam, says one, while They be chatting together,  
If one may be so bold, pray what Wind blew you hither?  
She replies, with a Sigh drawn up to her Chin,  
'Tis a weakness, Obstructions, and weakness within.  
My Husband's as likely a Man as you will see,  
A Man every Inch of him, take it from me!  
Ay and I'll assure ye— etc.  
Nay! never despair, Madam, 'tis not too late:  
Your changing of pasture may make you grow fat;  
I speak by experience, stay here but a Little,  
And I warn't you return as round as a Kettle.  
No doubt on't, says one, but if ever she will,  
She must take a good dose of a Sovereign Pill,  
That cured me— Hold there says the next, I deny't t'ye;  
d I was helped by some drops of Specimen vitae.  
They stirred, and I fled for my Ears, and my Eyes,  
Since a noble Retreat with a Victory vies!  
I retired in spite of my Foes and my Fears,  
And bravely brought off both my Eyes and my Ears.  
Now Reader, by a Figure which Poets may use,  
Pray suppose it is Evening!— If you want you may choose.  
As Lasses and Lads do advance in Decorum,  
When Crowder at Christmas hops squeaking before 'em;  
So Tagrag, and Bob-tail to dancing do throng,  
And th' Flower of— come flaming along.  
Here a Hell-full of Hogo's comes driving just on us,  
e Let's get the wind side on't, or Mercy upon us;  
A Plague's on the Green, and it newly arose  
From— Some-body's— powerful Armpits and Toes.  
Have a care of the Lad with his hair in his Hat,  
As you value his anger touch not his Cravat!  
Pray keep your distance, with Reverence stand,  
If you ruffle his Ruffles, his Cane is at hand.  
Sirrah jack! rub my Shoes with the Napkin, with Care,  
Your Master commands you, refuse if you dare:  
Unmannerly Winds the sweet Curls to displace  
Of so pretty, so lovely, so charming a Face!  
But hang a good Face, that's a womanish toy,  
Give me such a shape as this Lad does enjoy!  
But speak not a word as you value your life,  
Of his Buttocks and Shoulders, and the thing called his Wife!  
If you love your own Ribs, stand further good Friends,  
Room, Room for a Pudding tied up at both Ends!  
Whose goodly large Belly struts crowding before him,  
No less than a Lady behind does adore him.  
Make much of him, Madam, and use him in haste,  
Or quickly his Service alas will be past;  
For if half an inch further his Paunch does but come,  
ᶠ You must e'en be content with the deaf and the dumb.  
Here creeping and cringing to a thing of a Fortune,  
That weighs fifteen thousand, stands hopeful young What-d'ye-call-him!  
And e'er he does live on the Land, 'tis but reason  
If he take for Security Liv'ry and Seisin.  
A Knighthood comes next with a finical face,  
And a couple of Arms which he moves with that Grace,  
That he thinks his deserts will ha' cursed ill hap,  
If some Lady Fair don't fall in his Lap.  
Now the sport is all over, all travel that can  
To the place whence they came, with their Whore and their Man;  
And I when my Guinys and Credit were spent  
Sneaked home in the Crowd, like a Fool as I went.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Now Heaven's jolly Carman left weeping and whining.]  The journey was at the beginning of Summer, after a great Rain.  
(b) 
[But dresses, and crawls to the Wells with a Pox.]  There's many a true Word spoke in jest.  
(c) 
[They be strangely transformed, and grown civil, etc.]  Very good news, if it be'ned too good to be true.  
(d) 
[I was helped by some drops of Specimen vitae.  The Dispensatory wherein that Cordial is to be found, is,— 2 d part of the Soldier's Fortune.  
(e) 
[Let's get the Wind-side on't, or mercy upon us!]  In the Plague time, in London, people would tack about one another to get to the Wind-ward, lest that should bring the Disease on them by the breath of any infectious.  
(f) 
[For it half-an-inch further his Paunch does but come.]  Some persons have been reported of that vast and irregular bigness, that they han't been able with one part of their Body to relieve t'other.   

The Leather Bottle.  
MR. jove! tho' your Chitty-face Ganymed skink,  
I scorn to exchange or my Plate, or my drink;  
For without fear or wit the Immortals will hector,  
When out of thy Bowl they are fuddled with Nectar.  
Whatever your Cronies the Poets have spoke,  
Your Godship, when here, were a notable Soak;  
And when from your Gang you were spirited up,  
ᵃ In the midst of the Stars you planted your Cup.  
ᵇ As a Lady of Rome, in a great deal of State,  
Produced all her brats for her Cupboard of Plate;  
So if for the sight of my Treasures you call,  
Here's my dear Leatherbottle, my one and my all.  
ᶜ Gigantic Borrachio's Sir Quixot did fright,  
And maugre poor Squire, made an Ass of the Knight;  
Had my Bottle been there, 'twould ha' been more compliant,  
For he ne'er could mistake such a Dwarf for a Giant.  
My Vessel tho' little, dim Envy may see,  
Is as neat and as pretty as pretty may be;  
ᵈ When the Heidleburg Tun is an ill-contrived Sloven,  
Tho' its Vent-hole's as big as the mouth of an Oven.  
How cool and how sweet is the Liquor that's here,  
ᵉ It dribbles down daintily, lively and clear!  
Not Ice can preserve it as well from the weather,  
Nor Water, nor Sand, as a Bottle of Leather.  
ᶠ Oraculous Bottles inspired of old  
Each wormeaten Witch that Wonderments told:  
ᵍ This Engine cursed Sycorax herself could subdue▪  
And this did a Viceroy out of Trincalo hue.  
When the Sun does with Thirst the poor Haymaker throttle,  
And tann all their Faces till they look like the Bottle;  
'Tis this sets 'em right, 'tis as speedy and handy  
As old Mother Midnight's kind Bottle of Brandy.  
Let others plod on, till they're crazy and brainsick,  
ʰ For malleable Glasses, like the Consuls of Dantsick:  
Let this fall where you will, all its thumps are in vain,  
You may bulge it, and bulge it, and out with't again.  
My Bottle besides is old Dog at Dispute,  
And can Suarez, and Scotus, and Occam confute:  
Nay, his own Cousin Bellarmin too must go down,  
And if e'er he get up, he will have him byth' Crown.  
When Semele in Lightning and Thunder did fry,  
jove feathered her Bastard, and sheathed it in's Thigh:  
But no doubt but he thrived in that Climate far worse  
Than if in a Bottle he had put him to Nurse.  
Some Pigmy Diogenes here might retreat,  
And make it his spacious and worshipful seat;  
One Room of a Floor, for a Cellar he might spare it;  
'Tis needless, as well as a Chamber or Garret▪  
Like Maggot in Nutshell he might revel with glee,  
And none be so happy, so happy as he:  
Nor need he to fear that he there should be Foxed,  
Tho he drank up at once both the Cellar and Hogshead.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[In the midst of the Stars you planted your Cup.]  A Constellation called the Cup.  
(b) 
[As a Lady of Rome—  
Produced all her Brats for her Plate.]  A famous Story— When one Lady had shown the other all her jewels and fine things, she carries her home, and for her jewels, shows her her Children.  
(c) 
[Gigantic Borrachio's Sir Quixot did fright.]  See the Notes on the Soldier's Duel.  
(d) 
[When the Heidleburg Tun, etc.]  The great Tun of Heidleburg, with a Ladder of many rounds to ascend it.  
(e) 
[It dribbles down daintily.]  I have taken care that should be set in other Characters, as a most considerable Flower borrowed from my good friend John Bunnyan.  
(f) 
[Oraculous Bottles inspired of old.]  The Spirit of Ob, Webster and his Followers say, was only a Bottle, etc.  
(g) 
[This Engine cursed Sycorax herself could subdue,  
And this did a Viceroy out of Trincalo hue.]  See the famous History of the Tempest, or the Enchanted Island, where this is explained.  
(h) 
For malleable Glasses, like the Consuls of Dantsick.]  'Tis reported an ingenious Man had at Dantsick; (or somewhere there abouts, te'ned much odds) a Glass which after he had drunk, he would throw on the ground, bulge it, and hammer it out again.   

(ᵃ) Out of Lucian's true History, Part the First.  
b— AND now on a fair starlight Noon  
Our Ship launched off, and gently left the Moon.  
ᶜ So stoops the Sun to kiss his watery Fair,  
And with bright Footsteps paints the ambient Air.  
Boreas had locked his Bullies in their Cave,  
ᵈ And Birds of calm brood o'er the marble wave.  
But ah! how treacherous are the smiles of Fate!  
How slippery treads the blessed and fortunate!  
Twice the kind Sun had warmed the cheerful Skies,  
Nor does less bright the third black day arise.  
All dreadful bright it rose, the Air was spread  
Far, far around with ominous gloomy Red.  
Sad hollow Voices by the Pilot past,  
ᵉ And one pale Light glared o'er the trembling Master  
When such dark Bodings called for Aid Divine,  
ᶠ We vowed a Bull on Neptune's oozy Shrine:  
Tho' Fa●e was cross, yet he so far did hear,  
We were no longer racked with doubtful fear. For see!  
Whole Herds of Whales make the white Ocean roar,  
New Seas they spout, and drive new Seas before.  
The Tide they brought had washed us far away,  
But one Leviathan's Charybdis made us stay.  
He, like some Tyrant- Gudgeon, floated by  
Amidst the little Minews trembling Fry:  
Like Lacquys by with finny feet they ran,  
Lean Poets all the rest, he some fat Alderman.  
And when the vast Abyss around him curled,  
They seemed but Mountains, he alone a World:  
We took his Latitude when sailing in,  
ᵍ Full fifteen hundred Leagues from Fin to Fin:  
His dreadful jaws, for our destruction bend,  
Had Teeth, each larger than the Monument,  
And sharp as Needles near in Crooked-Lane,  
ʰ Set on some Diamond Island of the Main:  
And now there's not so much as room for Prayer,  
The last sad refuge of the Mariner.  
These, O my Wife, these, O my Children cry!  
Then all shake hands, and drink, and bid Good-b'w'y '!  
Here, had we been with such Provision stored,  
ⁱ We should have thrown some Hogsheads overboard:  
ᵏ But here tho' we had robbed the Moon and Sun,  
An hundred Delos' had hardly done:  
The Monster gapes, unfinished shrieks begin;  
We sink, we sink, his Whirl-pool rolls us in!  
Ocean's are after Oceans on us hurled,  
We shoot the Gulf, and down we sail to view the under World.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
Part of Lucian's true History.  'Tis paraphrastically done; though I dare undertake, the Original is followed (at least) as close by the Transverser, as Truth by the Author.  
(b) 
[— And now, on a fair starlight Noon.]  Lucian and the Ships Crew had taken a Voyage to the Land i' the Moon, (without the help either of Domingoes feathery, or others Crystal or Brazen Chariot, or so much as the French Smith's Wings;) and after many strange Adventures met with (you need not question) in so strange a place, is now just bound for Earth and Sea again.  
(c) 
[So stoops the Sun to kiss his watery Fair.]  Apollo's pretty Hostess, whom he uses a-nights to call in to;— But they are both very civil persons, and certainly mean no manner of harm in the World.— I forgot to tell you her Name is Thetis.  
(d) 
[And Birds of calm brood o'er the Marble wave.]  These are a kind of Creatures the Poets have had the happiness to discover, as Harpys, Chimeras, etc. when all the other less inquisitive, or less lucky part of the World know nothing of 'em. They are said to brood on the Sea at a set time in the year; and Neptune while they are hatching, is so complaisant to give 'em all fair weather. If any would see any more of 'em let 'em inquire at Lucian's true History, Second Part, and they shall know farther.  
(e) 
[And one pale light glared o'er the trembling Mast.]  Two Lights appearing on the Ship in a storm, are counted good Omens, one single, bad.  
(f) 
[We vowed a Bull on Neptune's oozy Shrine.]  As common an Offering to Neptune of old, as now a wax Candle tomy Lady of Loretto.  
(g) 
[Full fifteen hundred Leagues from Fin to Fin.]  I quote my Author: I have it from Lucian himself; and we must say of him here, as he a little before of Aristophanes, [that he speaks like a learned Man, and would not tell a lie for all the World.]  
(h) 
[Set on some Diamond Island of the Main.]  One of those Phaery Islands the Whale might know, tho' we don't.  
ay 
[We should have thrown some Hogsheads overboard.]  As is the Custom for Mariners when a Whale is near.  
(k) 
[But here, tho' we had robbed the Moon and Sun.]  Delos being their Free-land, settled in the Sea on purpose for the Birth-place of Apollo and Diana.   

An Elegant Letter, with a Copy of fine Verses by a London Wit, in answer to a Lampoon.  
Right Reverend Knawpost,  
YOur Prodigious Chaos of Nonsense (composed, and wright by the Spawn of a Moabite) I received, and am satisfied, that the Latitude of your Trouble exceeds the Dimensions of mine, or you need not have given yourself so much unnecessary labour to prove yourself an inconsiderable Coxcomb. The perusal of your Satirical Rhetorical Lines made me admire to see so excellent a parrable [1] in your Parts and Person; for as your Person is monstruous without the Aid and Assistance of modeish Accoutrements, (were your Nose and Chinn an inch shorter) so is there such a Chimaew [2] in your Disposition, that without the assistance of good Literature, the sense of your heroic Lines had rendered your Ape-ship more ridiculous than an Ass. Thus admireing the work of Nature, which hath created your Face so much like a Sunn-Dial, that were it equally divided into twelve parts, and as truly seated toward the South point, as you● Affections are toward your Mistress; the shade of your Nose would certainly, when the Sun shines, descover the true time of the Day.  
So I rest, Your Servant.  
So much for the Epistle; the Poem followeth, (so much of it as the ill-natured Mice have left legible.)  

How doth the learned Critic stand,  
Pensive and mad, with Pen in hand,  
Freighted with store of amorous Wares,  
Which many an Author owns for theirs!   

He is a Fool that thinks it good  
To laugh at all that's made of Wood; [3]  
And eke in time may lifted be  
Unto the fatal wooden Tree.   
In the Spark's Letter observe, 'tis spelled in the same manner that 'tis printed: For the word marked with the figure [1] and wrote [parrable,] I suppose he would ha' said [parallel;] and figure [2.] for Chimaew,— he means either Chimaera, or nothing at all. In his Verses, fig. [3.]— That's made of Wood,] For this block of a Lover, Poet, Scrivener, etc. was by Occupation a joiner, or some such wooden Trade, of which he had a touch in a former Lampoon. In answer to his Letter he had this following.  
An Answer to the Ioyner's smart Letter.  
Why Lad!  
HOw now Lad! witty these cold mornings! 'Tis well if this don't prognosticate some Plague; for certainly a Comet is ned half so prodigious. But indeed, Friend Thomas, it terrifies the Cockles of my Heart, lest thou shouldst at this rate run out in a little time longer thy Right Reverend Master, and Right Worshipful Self with Charges to Scrivener and Schoolboy. I think thou'st clawed it off Lad! and the Mallet of thy Invention joined with the peaceable Chisel of thy pestilent Wit, has for once obtunded the Cerebrocity of every saucy Rogue of a Rival. In good sober sadness there's Nonsense enough to persuade one it came all, every bit and scrap, and Chip of it out o' thy n'own dear Noddle; but that, as the black old Gentleman, thy Friend, would have it, who owed thee a spite for once in thy life courting virtuous Women, 'tis writ and spelt at such a rate, none but such an incorrigible Blockhead could ever blunder on.— But who can help't? We must e'en take't for better for worse, seeing there's no Remedy; and therefore,— Here's t'ye again! alas poor Thing! Is your queasy Gu● surfeited with all the Tripewomen, Kitchin-stuff-wenches, Hogs-feets— Butter-Whores and Scullions in our Street, that you have all so sudden such a muckle mind to what's meat for your Masters. 'Twould be worth the while now to launch out into the due Applause of thy portly paunch and person, but only thy sweet Face, my joy! is so much like a Slough, that I'm already foundered Horse and Man, and therefore lest I should mar thy Marriage, thinking one can't pick and choose in the case, e'en best recommend thee to an honest Cindar-woman, or the Tankard-bearer's hump-backt Lady, with whom, as I am credibly informed, you used to have intimate familiarity and converse in the corner of the Cellar.  
So I rest, Yours.   

DIALOGUES.  

I. Dialogue,  
Between a Thatcher and a Gardener, for Precedency, on occasion of a Pot of Ale with this Inscription; Detur Digniori.  Thatcher. 
DOwn, down to the Clod out of which thou art made,  
Nor with Tinder-box-hoof my Ladder invade!  
The Pot shall be mine in spite of thy Spade.  Gardener. 
And dares the poor Thatcher with the Gardener vie?  
Sure his Noddle's grown giddy with sitting so high;  
Let our Titles be tried by the next that comes by.  Thatcher. 
Content! (Gardener,) And content; and look over the plain,  
Where Cuddy the Shepherd comes trotting amain:  
Who but he should decide which is best of the twain?  Thatcher. 
Tho' a Shepherd may be partial, he's honest and true,  
He's old, and he's grave, and he Justice will do,  
And Cuddy will be equal to me and to you.  Gardener. 
●ut look, he's just here: pray thee tell him the Tale;  Thatcher. 
●ay, Cuddy, and judge whether Trade must prevail,  
●or the best of our two wins a Pot of good Ale.  Cuddy. 
●ll stay while I can, but then quickly begin,  
〈◊〉 either expect the Honour to win!  
〈◊〉 my Landlord in haste has sent for me in.  Gardener. 
●ce straining of Compliments now would be vain,  
〈◊〉 eldest and noblest of Trades I'll maintain;  
〈◊〉 Gardener was Adam, but a Thatcher was Cain.  Thatcher. 
Not so fast Mr. Gardener! with Reeds and with Boughs  
His Father before him had covered a House:  
ᵇ Sure you dare not deny what Dubartas avows.  Gardener. 
The Hero's from Gardens and Solitudes came,  
And sallying from thence filled the World with their Name;  
But who ever heard of a Thatcher of Fame?  Thatcher. 
ᶜ Epicurus indeed from a Garden did rise,  
But Atheism never can a Thatcher surprise,  
ᵈ Since he always is viewing the Sun and the S●ys▪  Gardener. 
From the tops of their Houses Aegyptian● must ow●  
ᵉ To the rest of the World Idolatry's flown▪  
And too many Gods are scarce better tha● none▪  Thatcher. 
If you be driven into Egypt, and fly fro● the Greek▪  
Very far from your Lodge, one need not 〈◊〉 see▪  
f To find out the omnipotent Onion and Lee●  Gardener. 
Their Trophies Kings, Captains and Emperors bring,  
And all overboard for one Shovel they fling;  
But who ever heard of a Thatcher a King?  Thatcher. 
The Gallows and Garden when all other means fails!  
Thus Dennis when scaped from Sicilian jails,  
ᵍ Fell from cutting of throats to cutting of tails.  Gardener. 
Each Beggar the name of the Thatcher can tell,  
For nothing you be fit but a Cottage and Cell;  
I with Princes and Lords by their Palace● dwell.  Thatcher. 
Thatch keeps out all Care as well as all Cold.  
Besides by my Grandsire I've often been told,  
ʰ That Straw has been Covering for Churches of old▪  Gardener. 
Scarce once in a Moon you mount from the ground,  
And another Trade too, or you will starve, must be found,  
I ha' still pleasant work that holds all the year round.  Thatcher. 
No doubt on't; and Winter must never infest  
Your fortunate Regions with Summer still blest,  
Nor fix you like a Cuckoo clung up in his Nest!  Cuddy. 
Brave Boys, both! so well you each other abuse,  
There's hardly between you a halter to choose:  
I judge that to make one another amends,  
I drink off the Ale, you shake hands and be Friends.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[A Gardener was Adam, but a Thatcher was Cain.]  Thus demonstrated.— Cain built a City before any Ironwork was invented; he could not therefore have Tiles to cover it:— Ergo, 'twas done with Thatch, or somewhat equivalent.  
(b) 
[Sure you dare not deny what Dubartas avows.]  Dubartas in his Poem of the Creation, describes Adam's rude draught of building in that manner.  
(c) 
[Epicurus indeed from a Gardener did rise.]  Epicurus his Study and Schools being in a Garden, was so notorious, that his Principles are thence called,— The Doctrine of [the Garden.]  
(d) 
[But Atheism never can a Thatcher surprise,  
Since he always is viewing the Sun and the Skies.]  This even the Epicureans confess a strong Inducement to the belief of a supreme Being, the Author of the World; and therefore give their Followers a Caution against it. So Lucretius, Book 5. p. 141. 
For even those few exalted Souls that know  
The Gods must live at ease, not look below;  
Free from all meddling Cares, from hate and love;  
If they admire, if view the World above,  
They wonder how those glorious Being's move.  
They are entrapped, they bind their slavish Chain,  
And sink to their religious Fears again.  Mr. Creeches Translation.  
(e) 
[From the tops of their Houses Egyptians must own,  
To the rest of the World Idolatry's flown.]  If the Gardener puts a fallacy on the Thatcher, let him look to it himself; I only am to explain his meaning thus far,— That in Egypt, from the tops of their houses the Egyptians frequently used to view the Heavens, living in a Champain Country.— Hence Astronomy, and as some say, Idolatry.  
(f) 
[To find out the omnipotent Onion and Leek.  Part of the worshipful Godheads of Egypt, which, tho' of the two more tolerable than the Crocodile; yet, had Horace lived there, or many others, they had certainly, as to that point of the Compass, turned Atheists.  
(g) 
[Thus Dennis, when 'scaped from Sicilian jails,]  
Fell from cutting of throats to cutting of tails.]  When Dyonisius the Tyrant of Sicily was expelled, he went to Corinth, and there set up Schoolmaster.  
(h) 
[That Straw has been Covering for Churches of old.]  The Church of Glastenbury, the ancientest certainly in England, if the Monks do'ned lie, was built, the sides with Hurdles, and thatched with Straw.   

The Second Dialogue,  
Between the Herring, and Whale.  ᵃ Whale. 
I Am the bold Whale. (Herring:)— And the brisk Herring I.  Whale. 
Through the Ocean I roll. (Herring.) O'er the Shallows I fly.  Whale. 
ᵇ Per fidem be gone from my presence! How dare  
The ridiculous Mouse with the Mountain compare?  Herring. 
Take my Honour, take my Life! to my Post I'll abide,  
Now I find such Authority plain o' my side,  
Tho' you swell, yet, unless the Rehearsal does lie,  
c There's ten times more Beauty and Shape in a Fly.  Whale. 
Tho' with ease I could breathe thee to nothing again▪  
Or spout thee a Mile, to thy Enemies, Men;  
ᵈ Like Phoebus I'll stoop from my glittering Throne,  
And even descend to dispute for my own;  
A couple we'll choose, who the Umpires shall be,  
The Dolphin is mine. (Herring)— The Shrimp my Referee.  Whale. 
ᵉ When in the Abyss I no longer did sleep,  
But kind Mother Nature called me out of the deep;  
What a Gulf did I leave i' the space whence I came?  
What a Can●le● of Chaos was spent i' my frame!  
When Nature the Whale into Being did bring,  
She smiled, and she cried— He is made for a King.  Herring. 
Tho' a World of dull Bullion your essence does hold,  
Scarce an Atom of Soul was cast into the Mould,  
Room enough, and to spare lavish Nature allows,  
But provides not a Tenant to suit with the House:  
As for me, tho' she veils me with Flesh, and with Skin,  
Yet my Forms little else but pure Spirit within:  
And in vain you your Bulk for your Monarchy bring,  
ᶠ For if the Ocean were Goth-land who but I should be King.  Whale. 
Not alone on my Bulk I intent to rely;  
My Strength, and my Courage with my Magnitude vie:  
My side is too thick for a Spear or a Dart;  
ᵍ Huge Rafters of Ribs barricado my Heart.  
Even Neptune himself is afraid when I roar,  
And his quivering Court dive away to the Shore.  
With a courage undaunted I'll a Navy assail,  
And disorder whole Squadrons by a burst with my Tail.  Herring. 
Your strength and your Valour must needs be Divine,  
ʰ When you be caught, like a Gudgeon with a Hook, and a Line:  
ⁱ When spite of Dame Luna, at Ebb 'twill be flood,  
And you make a Springtide all around with your Blood.  Whale. 
The Laws of hard Nature forbid to withstand,  
That Forreigner Man, the fierce Tyrant o'th' Land:  
'Tis the Sea is my Kingdom, and the Waters must own,  
At home I have ever been Monarch alone.  Herring. 
ᵏ Yes, as oft, as the Swordfish, and Thrasher will please  
To leave off their Sport, and allow you som● ease:  
On your Noddle and under your Paunch they are set,  
While one Reins you in, another's makes you Curvet;  
Then Neptune indeed may shake when you roar,  
Tho' you be Nine-mile at Sea, they can hear you ashore.  Dolphin. 
All to Arms! all to Arms! while we scolding sit here,  
Look! look where the Enemies fleet does appear:  
The fisherman's Navy with sail, and with Oar,  
That has often among us made Havoc before.  Shrimp, Herring. 
I boil— and I broyl till my jerkin does crack.  Whale. 
And I feel barbed Irons like a Grove on my back:  
'Tis in vain with such Odds for the Combat to stay,  
All shift for yourselves, and I'll lead you the way.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[I am the bold Whale— and the brisk Herring I.]  First and foremost, (and before I tell you by what Art I make these Gentlemen speak) 'tis the part of an Honest man to acknowledge, and repay what he has borrowed. This Line is but little altered from that in Rehearsal. 
" I am the bold Thunder— the brisk Lightning I.  In the next place— By what Art Magic can I persuade Fishes to speak, who are mute to a Proverb, and no more inclined to prating than Friar Bacon's Brazenhead? Why, first take notice that's a Vulgar Error, and a scandal on the free Citizens of the Ocean: they are silent indeed when dragged into our Element, nor should we much, I believe, be more inclined to Oratory, if Head and Ears covered in theirs. Again, 'tis plain they have a voice, proved from the Whale, who in his Battle with the Swordfish and Thrasher, described below, roars with such an audible voice, he may be heard three Leagues off. If all this bened enough, I'm sure they may as well pretend to speech as Lucian's Bed, and Lamp; by which Figure I shall introduce Chamberpot and Frying-pan, two or three pages henc●.  
(b) 
[Per fidem be gone from my presence!]  By this Verse you may learn, if you understand Logic— first that the Whale understands Latin; and secondly that he's Proctor of the Ocean.  
(c) 
[There's ten times more Beauty, and shape in a Fly.]  Vid. Rehearsal. 
" I'd sooner have a Passion for a Whale,  
" In whose vast bulk tho'store of Oil does lie,  
" We find more Shape, more Beauty in a Fly.   
(d) 
[Like Phoebus I'll stoop from my glittering Throne.]  Once upon a time Phoebus having nothing else to do (perhaps when Jupiter gave him a Holiday) descended to some Wake or other, and undertook the Fiddler for a Wager; but being like to be baffled, he had no remedy but to call his Godship in, and fright the Poor fellow so (whose name I should have told ye was Marsyas) that he made him leapt out of his Skin.  
(e) 
[When in the Abyss I no longer did sleep.]  How should the Whale know that piece of Philosophy? Why might not Aristotle teach him when he leapt into the Water, as wisely as Empedocles into Fire? But 'tis contrary to his Hypothesis, who denied a beginning of the World, and consequently the Chaos, etc. Why then Arion when capering on the Dolphin's back, instructed that▪ Dolphin, that Dolphin his Son, and so down to the Whale●and there's the short and the long on't.  
(f) 
[For if the Ocean were Gothland, who but I should be King?]  'Twas the custom among the Goths to choose a little man for their Prince.  
(g) 
[Huge Rafters of Ribs barricado my Heart.  If you won't take the Whale's word, 'tis but stepping to Rumford Road, or the Physick-Garden in Oxford, where a couple of Whales Ribs are to be seen, neither inferior in bigness to a lusty Rafter.  
(h) 
[When you be caught, like a Gudgeon with a Hook, and a Line.]  One way of Whale-fishing is striking at him with an Iron fastened to a long Rope, then letting the Rope loose, the Whale beats up and down till it for loss of blood yieldeth up the Ghost.  
ay 
[When spite of Dame Luna, at Ebb 'twill be Flood.]  By this compared with what went before, 'tis probable that tho' the Whale was for the neoterics, the Herring keeps close to the old Philosophy, and according to that, holds the Moon to be the cause of Tides.  
(k) 
[Yes as oft as the Swordfish, and Thrasher shall please.]  The Story is thus. The Thrasher and Swordfish are two Fish, the Whales implacable Enemies. The Swordfish having a sharp bone in his Head, gets under his soft Belly, and makes him rise to the Top of the Water; where the Thresher with his Wash-beetle tail, beats him down again, and between them both they Thump him so unconscionably, that he cries murder so loud you may hear him three Leagues off.   

The Third Dialogue,  
Between Chamber-pot and Frying-Pan.  Chamber-pot. 
STand off! nor with rude Smut disgrace  
ᵃ The Glories of my brighter face!  Frying-pan. 
Tho not so glib my Face be seen,  
Yet all I'm sure's as sweet within.  Chamber-pot. 
You in the Kitchen drudge alone,  
None handles you but greasy joan!  Frying-pan. 
I always lend, but you receive;  
Which is most brave, to take, or give?  Chamber-pot. 
Oft Maid and Mistress fetch me on't,  
To wash their their Lily- hand and Snowt.  Frying-pan. 
You be civil sure, and use I hope  
With Water to allow 'em Soap.  Chamber-pot. 
Yes, such as ne'er, at worst, endures  
To scour so foul a Mouth as yours.  Frying-pan. 
O what a fragrant Hogo rose  
But now, to twinge a swooning Nose?  Chamber-pot. 
Such as when you were made a Tool,  
ᵇ To Fry the Breakfast for the Fool.  Frying-pan. 
All bulged and yellow you must fall  
At last behind some ruin'd Wall;  
Or melt, and to your Master's loss  
Leave both at once your stink and dross.  Chamber-pot. 
Take then, since me you will thus Incense,  
These marks of my Benevolence:  
Such Water as if Fame says true,  
Diana on Actaeon threw;  
Which as some learned men surmise,  
With flap of Fox put out his Eyes:  
And lest of Rary show he brag,  
ᶜ Bewitched poor Hunter into Stag.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[The Glories of my Brighter Face.]  Hence take notice, to the Honour of the Poet, 'twas a Pewter Chamber-pot, and to the Honour of the Maid, 'twas newly scoured.  
(b) 
[To Fry the Breakfast for the Fool.]  A known story of a Lords Cook and Fool.  
(c) 
[Bewitched poor Hunter into Stag.]  Diana, on his viewing her Dimensions, and the rest of her Virgins, as naked as ever they were born, sprinkled him with some of her own Holy-water, and turned him into a Stag.    

Against a Kiss.  
A PINDARIC.  

1.  
CHarming Destroyer! whither wilt thou roll,  
The tumbling Soul?  
When Sylvia smiles with all her Sex's Arts,  
And Angles for loose wand'ring Hearts;  
Sweet lovely Poison from her Lips she breathes,  
Soft subtle Darts,  
And dear bewitching Deaths;  
Smiling Plagues she throws,  
Golden Granado's sows,  
And into Air the tortured Soul with Love's white-powder blows,  
Presents with painted Vipers gay, and crowned,  
And scatters Heavenly Hells around.   

2.  
A Kiss! there's Magic in the Name,  
What Amulet against its force can Arm;  
The willing Letters of themselves forbidden sounds compose,  
And leap into a charm,  
And plunge the Hearer in blue Waves of Flame,  
ᵃ Such sulphurous liquid flame as flows,  
From Aetna's everlasting Womb:  
Which oft e'er now over proud Towns weak Walls arose,  
ᵇ And brought to Cities, and to men, both Death and Tomb;  
Where Crystal Lakes for long long Ages stood,  
ᶜ supplied from the Abyss with an eternal flood,  
For long unnumbered Ages passed,  
Scarce Ice more cold, or chaste;  
There, over all the mouldering Banks red Surges pour;  
There does hot Vulcan ravish all, and all devour,  
ᵈ And even vitrifies the Mud.  
With much ado, to their great Fund some straggling drops retire,  
Close at the Heels pursued by swift preposterous Waves of Fire.   

3.  
A Lip's the Devil's Tinderbox,  
Whence by soft repeated strokes  
Lusts lurking Lightning flies,  
And blasts the unhappy Soul that pries,  
With rash unwary Eyes.  
A downy Pillow where the firmest Heart is broke,  
(Be't Heart of Flint, or Heart of Oak!)  
With a sly never-smarting stroke:  
A Kiss that Traitor in an Angels dress,  
From bad Good-offices will never cease,  
But ever seems to bring fair Overtures of Peace,  
When its Commission speaks of nothing less.  
At the Mouths tot'tring Gate it parlys Sin  
Slides through a strong reserve,  
To invested Lust, which else must quickly starve,  
And gives Intelligence to every Enemy within.   

4.  
'Tis Death, 'tis Poison all!  
Slow, sure Italian poison, 'twill  
e To a Year, an Hour, a Minute kill;  
Dead without Hope the infected Wretches fall:  
One Kiss will raise  
ᶠ Moore Frenzies than a score Tarantula's.  
The tickling Venom through each secret path will run,  
Till its mortal Errand's done,  
The pungent Atoms search the Body o'er,  
Infect each drop of putrid Go●e,  
And chase the quiuring Soul through every winding Poor:  
And see the cursed Enchantress smiling by,  
Glares with a sharp unlucky eye,  
Hindering the very wish of Remedy.  
ᵍ Music the common countercharm,  
Can only here increase the Immedicable Harm:  
And raise ten thousand Devils more,  
To all the unnmbered Legions revealed there before.    

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Such sulphurous liquid Flame as flows,  
From Ae●na's everlasting Womb.]   
(b) 
[And brought to Cities, and to Men, both Death and Tomb.]  At the Eruptions of that famous Sicilian Volcano, the melted Minerals broke down all opposition, and ran for many Miles a continual stream of Fire; when it came to any Houses, it burst all down tho' never so strong, and buried the very Walls in heaps of Pumice Stones, and such kind of matter.  
(c) 
[supplied from the Abyss with an eternal flood.]  Among many other learned men's, 'tis the immortal Cowleys opinion, that under, or in the middle of the Earth, there is a Fund of Concreated water (as well as Fire) called— [The Fountains of the great deep.)  
(d) 
[And even vitrifies the Mud.]  Vitrification is the last degree of Heat, in plain English turning into Glass.  
(e) 
[To a Year, an Hour, a Minute kill.]  Some of the Italians are reported so skilful at the hellish Art of Poisoning (well reckoned together, if not sometimes the same, with Witchcraft) that they will kill ye a man to any precise time, as certainly as a Clock; and temper the potion so devilishly exquisite, it shall till such a time suspend its operation.  
(f) 
[More Frenzies than a score Tarantula's.]  The Tarantula is a Spider found in Apulia in Italy, whose Poison is so peculiar, that the Person bitten by it falls incessantly a Dancing, nor is to be cured but by—  
(g) 
[Music the common Counter-charm.]  Which dissipates the Venom, and makes 'em, (I can't tell how) sweat it out again.   

On a certain Nose.  
ROom for a Nose (think what you will,  
'Tis true) as High as— Highgate Hill:  
Turned to a Bridge, 'twill ease the Feet,  
ᵃ And reach from thence to Fryday-street;  
(If you will set under for a stay  
The man in Chains at Holloway.)  
Steeple crowned Nose, who thinks it scorn  
To be by any Spire o're-born;  
ᵇ (Fell Dragon-nose held up you know,  
Disdainfully a top of Bow;  
A Nose which would not be content  
If meted by the Monument;  
So scorns the Maypole in the Strand  
To measure with a Fishing-Wand:  
This with the Top of old St. Poll  
Had easily stood Cheek by joll.  
(Tho● neither of their cloudy Spires  
Were proof against invading Fires:)  
Nor now is it afraid to show  
ᶜ For ●igness with the Cupulo;  
Bright Gorgeons Nose, which stoopeth not  
ᵈ To that of the Rhinocerot.  
And, if some Madman were his Friend,  
Would yield as much by Candles-end:  
But, ah! unless itself 'twould come,  
One Fleet could never lug it home;  
Unless packed up in several Loads,  
ᵈ Like the fat straddling God at Rhodes.  
A Voice it has; a Voice so swinging,  
ᶠ It drowns with ease Sir Morelands' Engine,  
ᵍ And may be heard to Red'riff Shore,  
In spite of bawling Scull or Oar.  
Thence larger fall, and louder Streams  
Than those of roaring-Through-Bridge- Thames.  
A Boat; a Boat! or I●am drownded,  
I'th' Eddy of its Wave confounded;  
Land me! that I may see my Dearest,  
Land me at Queen-hithe!— sure that's the (nearest.  
Where I'll to Nose compared again,  
In Head of Neighbour Saracen;  
And sure the Painter could not err,  
Who Copyd Face and all from Her.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[And reach from thence to Fryday-Street.]  Why Friday Street? 'Tis reason enough if it ●●lls up the Verse.  
(b) 
[Fallen Dragon-Nose, which mounts you know,  
Disdainfully at Top of Bow.]  Alluding to that Dragon which is the Vane of Bow-Steeple.  
(c) 
[For bigness with the Cupulo.]  The four Towers, to be joined together, like ●hat at Wool-church.  
(d) 
Like the fat straddling God at Rhodes.]  The Colossus at Rhodes was broken down and carried away by degrees. 'Twas of that vast bulk that Ships sailed into the Haven between its Legs.  
(e) 
[It drowns with ease Sir Morelands' Engine.]  The speaking Trumpet, invented by Sir Sam. Moreland.  
(f) 
[And may be heart to Red'riff Shore.]  One of these Trumpets had words pronounced by it at Gresham College, which were heard distinctly and wrote down, a'tother side the water.   

In Praise of Horns.  
ASsist ye gentle Powers that can,  
Assist some blind good natured Man,  
All the Nine aid I'd now refuse  
For one kind smile from Iordans Muse.  
'Tis done! 'tis done! and by her power,  
At Feet of Prince; or Emperor,  
Transformed, with voice, and visage mild,  
I sit like any Pageant Child:  
First mannerly I bowed my Head,  
Then perkt it up again, and said:  
First Wheat and Barley shall be sown,  
And sprout again on London-stone;  
First Cure for Corns! i'th' Stillyard range,  
And Thro'-bridge-hoa! roar round the Change:  
And Guildhall cross the Thames be born,  
ere I forget renowned Horn:  
When late with Ribbons all bedress●t,  
So gaudy, at the Cockney's Feast,  
Each little-Master struts along,  
Shouted by the Blew-apron'd-Throng,  
Which of the pretty Lads confess't  
Amongst 'em all their Father's Crest?  
●ho ' many a One his Glory owes  
●nto the Sweat of Mother's brows;  
●ho by the children's looks could find  
●e ever was to others kind?  
The Calf is still without it born,  
●ho ' Parent- Bull wears dreadful Horn;)  
●is Wardrobe, when set out in State  
●rops from his Father's fertile Pate;  
●hich does whole Cornucopia's shed,  
●o finifie him, round his Head.  
What glorious Things! what Trinkets rare,  
Forest Cart when joulted there,  
〈◊〉 yearly bought at Charlton Fair.  
●●●n-fair that better Tricks can show!  
●●an Green-goofe, or than Bartlomew.  
●hen Mistress drinks, and john does thank her,  
〈◊〉 the Kings-head, or the Blue-anchor;  
●ow harmless does she smiling come,  
●o bring best Husband Fairings home!  
●●●rings to make him fine and gay  
●gainst next Training Holiday?  
●hich more than Silver Head-piece grace  
〈◊〉 brazen brow, and Copper Face:  
natural Half-pikes which more adorn  
●●an that upon the Unicorn;  
●one such famous feats can do,  
●hat Miracles are found in Two?  
Two, grafted in the place of frontlets,  
A Princely pair of large Brow-antlets:  
Which if the Herald plays his part,  
And draws his Hatchment out with Art;  
Tho' Fields of Gules should overwhelm it,  
Must peep at Top of Argent Helmet:  
The Motto— Decus & Tutamen,  
ᵃ And I'll for Rhyme, write under  
— Amen.   

NOTE.  
(a) 
[And I'll for Rhyme, write under  
— Amen.  If this seems a little of the dullest, consider what Muse I'm through all this Copy inspired wit●●   

Advice to Monsieur Ragoo, 〈◊〉 had his choice either to be Hang 〈◊〉 or Married.  
TAke Courage poor despairing Lover!  
Walk up! walk up, and e'en turnover  
Who Mounts the Bridal-bed is madder  
By far, than him that Mounts the Ladder.  
What Man in's Wits won't rather choose  
The Hempen, than the Marriage Noose?  
Or in foe plain a Case would falter,  
And take the Ring to leave the Halter;  
Since you perhaps slight my Authority,  
Look back! look back on beauteous Doroty!  
Who often without Wit or Fear,  
Bids a whole Troop- Come on if they dare!  
Come on! she cries, nor should they scare me,  
Tho' Xerxes' 'twere and all his Army.  
There's Doll: who knows what mischief follows?  
Here's nothing but a single Gallows.  
His prudence who would not admire,  
That leaps from Frying-pan to Fire?  
See if you dare, you quivering Booby,  
Those Lips of Pearl, that Snowt of Ruby:  
Within, (I would not do her wrong)  
There hangs a Clapper-alias- Tongue,  
It shakes the Church, and rives the Steeple,  
And when it Rings— beware good People!  
Then, tho' perhaps you will at it wonder,  
Sowres all the Neighbour's Ale like Thunder:  
As Lions roar to mouse's squeaking;  
ᵇ So Christ-church Tom, and Tom of Pequin  
(Tho' we in this the Jesuits anger,)  
Are both but Saints-bells to her Twanger:  
To Hell she scorns to be beholding,  
She deafs the Devils Damn with scolding;  
Her face still Lavers when she washes,  
ᶜ Her Face which sneaks behind Proboscis.  
Bring the Commissioners o'th' Sewer,  
And ere you Kiss her let 'em view her:  
They will fifty Dung-carts round her place,  
To clear the ●●nnel of her Face;  
But all in vain since all too late,  
The Dirt is now concorporate:  
Inveterate Dirt of sev●n years standing,  
That scorns to wag for their commanding  
And all her Frame you now may call  
Without a Figure— One Mudwall.  
Which this great Rule to''th' Life expresses,  
'Tis uniform— In Vglinesses.  
But O! what Seaweed may compare  
With her strong Onion-Ropes of Hair.  
Step back a little! call the Thatcher,  
No Peruke-maker e'er could match her:  
No Nets are they, no Cupid's fetter,  
But Halters plain; nor worse, nor better.  
If thus her upper features show,  
Thy Mermaid sure's mere Devil below;  
If all this in her Wast-coat's noted,  
O how is she Be-petticoated!  
Now of two Ills choose you the least,  
(And which that is may soon be guest)  
Woe you the Rope, and not the Beauty,  
And bid the Hangman do his Duty.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Look back! look back on Beauteous Doroty!  Doll-Troop, or Doll-Common, Laundress; (and somewhat into the Bargain) to a Troop of Horse: her Mr. Ragoo, when condemned for Plundering, was to marry, or be hanged.  
(b) 
[So Christ-church Tom, and Tom of Pequin.]  The jesuits relate at Pequin in China is a Bell weighing twelve hundred thousand pound weight.  
(c) 
[Her Face that sneaks behind Proboscis.]  The Proboscis is the Trunk, or Nose of an Elephant.   

On a pretended Scholar that would have had some Verses he had stolen from another Book inserted into the Maggots.  
HA! then 'tis Time! affronted Muse begin!  
Rouse each ill-natured sleeping Thought within:  
Purse thy dark Brow! thy trembling Sinews strain,  
And swell the angry blood in every Vein!  
Has Fortune dragged thy Vengeance from her Throne,  
Crushed out thy wont Sting, and called thee Drone?  
No! here's a Pen does manly spite revive,  
Jogs me, and lets me know my Soul's alive;  
And tells the wretch that urged a Poet's frown,  
He has roused a Lion that will rend him down.  
Was I so easy grown, so tame a Tool!  
Had fate the power to cramp me into Fool?  
That this to me? and was my Stock so low,  
I must for scraps of Wit a Mumping go?  
What! Thief at second hand! doubly the world abuse,  
And rob that spital of thy hungry Muse!  
Since one good turn another does require,  
Industrious Hackney these shall be thy Hire:  
This Load of Curses which would make thee crack,  
Tho' vampt with Porters, or with Camels back.  
What College Sir? where took you your Degree?  
Bridewell or Bedlam— University?  
No doubt thou there wert blessed with due applause,  
For decent beating Hemp, and picking Straws;  
In one of them (you see I dont collogue  
With Friends) commencing Fool, in tother Rogue;  
But ah! at last the better party failed;  
The Fool went down, the Rampant Rogue prevailed.  
Long thou in Bridewell with fell fate didst wrestle,  
Like Hudibras, locked in enchanted Castle;  
What Devil against the Gates a Whirlwind hurled,  
And let thee out again to Plague the World?  
Of old ye outran the Constable, 'tis true,  
But sure my Verse can run as fast as you:  
What tho' unknown? I dare thy shade arraign,  
For Poets are not Prophets called in vain:  
Here take this Pass ere we for ever part,  
Then run, and then Farewell with all my Heart.  
The Poet's pride, and Beggary, and Lies,  
The Cit● kind Wife, and fear, and avarice:  
The Lawyers yelling in their feigned debate,  
And the fleeced Clients wisdom all too late;  
The keeping Cully's Jealousy, and Care;  
The slighted Lovers Maggots, and Despair;  
A Woman's Body every day to dress,  
A fickle Soul, little as theirs, or less.  
The Courtier's Business, th' Impudence ' o'th' stage,  
And the Defeated Politicians rage;  
A Clockwork Spouse, with loud eternal Clack,  
A Shop i'th' Change, still damned to What d'ye lack!  
Worse than these Last, if any Curses more,  
ᵃ Ovid e'er knew, or fiercer Oldhams store:  
Till not one part in Body, or Soul be free,  
May all their barbed Vengeance shower on Thee;  
Pressed with their weight long mayst thou raving lie,  
Envying an Halter but not dare to die,  
And when condemned thou dost thy Clergy plead,  
Some frightful Fiend deny thee power to Read.  
Madness, Despair, Confusion, Rage, and Shame,  
Attend you to the place from whence you came;  
To Tyburn thee let Carrion Horses draw,  
In jolting Cart without so much as Straw.  
Jaded may they lie down i'th' road, and tired,  
And, (worse than one fair hanging) twice be mired:  
ᵇ Mayst thou be mauled with Pulchers Sexton's Sermon,  
Till thou roar out For Hemp sake drive on Carman!  
Pelted, and cursed i'th' road by every one,  
E'en to be Hanged mayst thou the Gauntlet run!  
Not one good Woman who in Conscience can  
Cry out— 'Tis pity Troth— a proper Man!  
Stupid and dull mayst thou rub off like Hone  
Without an open, or a smothered Groan.  
May the Knot miss the place, and fitted be  
To plague, and torture, not deliver thee!  
Be half-a-day a dying thus, and then  
ᶜ Revive like Savage to be hanged again!  
In pity now thou shalt no longer live,  
For when thus satisfied, I can forgive.   

NOTES.  
(a) 
[Ovid ere knew, or fiercer Oldhams store.]  Ovid's curses on Ibis, and Oldhams on the Woman who ruin'd his Friend.  
(b) 
[Mayst thou be mauled with Pulchers Sexton's Sermon.]  The Sexton of St. Sepulchers Church, makes a kind of a preachment to such as go by to be hanged.  
(c) 
[Revive like Savage.]  One that was hanged twice.   

A Pindaric Poem  
On Three Skipps of a Louse.  

1.  
QUeen of all harmonious Things!  
capering Words, and frisking Strings,  
What Hanged Hero wilt thou sing?  
What lousy Rogue to equal Glories bring?  
Ah! what could man do more? I strove  
To teach my Strings of Thundering jove;  
Of long-nailed juno, Scold Divine,  
Of Cerberus and Proserpina;  
But all in vain, for in a Trice  
My mighty Hero's dwindled down to Lice:  
Go Charioteer! the Coach prepare!  
(Or call a Coach if any's there!)  
My Muse forsooth must take the Air;  
And we intent to rove  
Beyond the narrow Bounds of Nature, and of jove.  
We will take a race  
Where light-cloathed Nothings, and thin phantoms dwell,  
Beyond the narrow Bounds of time and place,  
Beyond the outstretched Line of Farth, of Heaven, and Hell.   

2.  
Pindaric Pegasus! advance  
Now with the lofty Barbary proudly waving prance,  
And amble now  
Like a Galloping Cow!  
But if thy Cross-grained Ladies will not l●nd▪  
Their winged Saddle-nag to ' blige a friend,  
If they lock up their Cellar all-divine,  
And will not spare one soop of Aganippe- Wine,  
Tell 'em I'll get assistance nigher  
That soon shall mount me higher;  
In Bedstaffs-twinkling I'll be gone  
ᵃ To better Streams at Islington,  
Inspired from Saddler's Pump I'll do, and dare  
As much as any motley drunken Doctor there,  
There boles of Helicon my Horse and I'll carouse,  
And for the foundered jade mount my curretting Louse.   

3.  
So rides the great Mogul in State  
ᵇ When at proud Agra's trembling Gate,  
Met by each humble, as a Potentate;  
With Flowers the Roads are paved, with Flowers the houses crowned,  
And brutish Mirth, and barbarous joy runs all-along,  
Whilst he uplifted high  
Like a New Titan, scales the Sky.  
From that wild Mount of Flesh, whose Shoulders bear,  
Better than Aesop's Eagles, Castles in the air.  
So a tall Ant in days of yore  
ᶜ A Bold adventurous Pigmy bore.  
So, on my fair-neckt Louse securely set  
ᵈ Like great Astolfo, or little Pacolet,  
With Spur and Switch I make my Steed curvet.  
Hold, hold! I'm gone! I'm gone! that leap has lost us:  
So Old-Nick sored away with Doctor Faustus.   

4.  
Beyond th' attraction of dull Earth we're born,  
Near the purple chambers of the Morn;  
Now less, and less the lengthened Species grow;  
Now, credit me,  
We hardly see  
Athos and Tenariff, and Michael's Mount below,  
ᵉ In Glass or brazen Chariot scarce so soon,  
ᶠ Nor with Domingoes Ganza's had we reached the Moon.  
There we discover  
Over and over  
ᵍ What e'er quick Azant or Hevelius saw;  
Without their Glasses  
Her Lunatic Faces,  
Aetna's, and Land, and Sea, we in a Map could draw.  
But my poor Louse more of its kind  
ʰ Above could find,  
For all the Lousy Woodcocks still were left behind,  
And therefore calmly dives to Earth again;  
So Angels think themselves down through the airy Main.   

5.  
O'er Hedge and Ditch, a Scholars, or a Hunter's pace  
We run our harebrained Race.  
From Post to Pillar I'm like Epicurus hurled  
By all the Flaming Limits of the World.  
Where e'er we go  
By Friend, or Foe,  
We my Majestic Lowses Subjects found;  
Armies of Beggars gay  
In Endless Sunshine play,  
And Lice, as blithe as they  
In jolly Squadrons dance around.  
Thus did the Sprightly Youth, but those whom hoary age  
Had formed more wise and sage  
Upon a Captive Comb placed round in State  
Declaim among the unexperienced Fry  
The Nitty Auditory listening by;  
And all their Great Forefathers Deeds in greater Verse relate.   

6.  
Then to my Lowses Palace we draw nigh,  
(For sure by all this it may with ease be understood,  
Mine was a Louse of princely blood)  
Where he in triumph still remains  
Dragging Pilgarlick Death in Chains,  
And even in Churchyards obtains the Victory.  
When pale Death with harpy claws  
(And huge unconscionable Jaws)  
To the Sick the Curtain draws.  
And the Nurses softly tell  
Sad enquiring Friends- He's well,  
They to the Churchyard follow him, and there  
With him they bury all their Love, and all their Care.  
My kind Louse more kind and bold  
Hector's Death, and keeps his Hold,  
Keeps his Hold, or what's as fair,  
Comes again, and finds him there.  
Drives Sir Rawbone's from the Stone,  
Claims the Marble all his own;  
ⁱ 〈◊〉 his own Substance quickens mouldering Men,  
And makes 'em live, at least an Animals Life again.   

7.  
Now Heaven and Earth surveyed a dreadful leap we take  
Over the Sooty Stygian Lake;  
My Louse my Sibyl was, and all as well  
I know not how  
ᵏ Without a halfpenny, or a Golden bough,  
I like Aeneas travelled Hell.  
We looked, and looked again,  
And looked, and looked with Care,  
But looked, and looked in vain,  
Nor could we find one House of Purgatory there:  
Those old descriptions fail  
Whose realms are changed  
And in another Method ranged;  
We Mountains find where we expect a flowery vale.   

8.  
Into the Gulf at last my Palfrey plunged, t' explore  
Secrets to none but great Quevedo known before.  
So brave Empedocles at Aetna's flaming Hole  
(The sight enough to melt a common Soul)  
Leapt smiling in, with this undaunted Cry,  
To be a God 'tis worth the while to die.  
So when the hungry Earth gaped wide  
And let in hateful Light,  
The trembling Ghost to fright  
In their own Realm of Night;  
Curtius all armed to the black breach did ride;  
He saw, and smiled with an unbroken mind  
Where all the quaking City fled, and scarce durst look behind:  
In sprung the noble Youth with this undaunted Cry,  
So Rome but live, and flourish,— Thus let Curtius die.   

9  
Where am I now? Bugbears, and sprights are there:  
ˡ Here Kelly's Devils buzz round me,  
Here Doctor Dees dumfound me;  
Here's Mephistophilus with Tail, and Horns, and Hair,  
ᵐ And each foul Fiend in Bartlomew Fair;  
Sights which a stouter man than me might scare,  
But worse, far worse than Devils at the Gate,  
ⁿ Bands of Quevedo's hungry Tailors wait;  
From A●ropos each stole a pair of Sheers,  
And gladly now to ensure his Head I'd give my Houses Ears:  
Horridly gay their Teeth, and Nails were painted o'er  
With flesh confused, and Skin, and Brains, and mingling Gore.  
Hunger, as well as Anger weapons makes;  
His Bodkin this, and this his ponderous yard, and this his Thimble takes:  
The Cannibals in dreadful order stood  
To murder and devour even their own Flesh and Blood;  
To murder and devour my Louse, so wise, so great, so good:  
So conquering Indians feed, and hope to find  
In their brave enemies broiled Corpse the Virtues of his Mind.   

10.  
Yet my undaunted Louse can scorn 'em all,  
He rears his strong Proboscis high,  
And does the unmanly rage defy  
Of each unequal enemy,  
And like himself intends to fall.  
ᵒ His Martial Soul peeps through his Alabaster Skin,  
The bloody drop moves quick, and beats a point of War within.  
Their tedious trembling Troops he does to Combat call,  
Waits for each mortal blow, contemns each fatal pass,  
ᵖ And cries, Pound on! 'tis but the husk of Anaxagoras.  
Whilst quaking Hell does with concern the event attend,  
Lest the sharp Conqueror's should too ravenous be,  
And in the Carriage swallow me,  
I durst not stay the fight— but waked— and there's an end.    

NOTES.  
(a) 
[From Aganippe I'll be gone,  
To better springs at Islington.]  The New Waters discovered there the last Summer.  
(b) 
[When at proud Agra's trembling Gate.]  Agra is one of the Great Moguls Royal Cities; he uses to ride on a white Elephant.  
(c) 
[So a tall Ant in days of yore,  
A poor adventurous Pigmy bore.]  Read the story, thus ingeniously described in Mr. Crashaw.— 
" High mounted on an Ant, Nanus the Tall,  
" Was thrown alas! and got a deadly fall:  
" Under the unruly Beasts proud feet he lies,  
" All torn; with much ado before he dies,  
" Yet strains these Words— Base envy do! laugh on,  
" Thus did I fall, and thus fell Phaeton.   
(d) 
[Like great Astolfo, or little Pacolet.]  A couple of expeditious Gentlemen (as well mounted as the Witch in Paudaemonium) Astolfo in Orlando Furioso on a Griffith: Pacolet in the famous and renowned Chronicle of Valentine and Orson, on a Wooden Horse.  
(e) 
[In Glass or Brazen chariot scarce so soon,   
(f) 
Nor with Domingoes Ganza's had we reached the Moon.]  You see Reader, other folks have had their Maggots as well as your Humble Servant. Two Bishops have wrote expressly of this new Plantation, and the way to sail thither. One by making a Globe of Glass, or Brass lighter than the Atmosphere, which must therefore naturally ascend: The other by a way perhaps as practicable as the former, by harnessing a certain number of Fowl, called by the Spaniards [Ganza's] on which he makes Signior Domingo hoist thither.  
(g) 
[What e'er quick Azant, or Hevelius saw]  Two famous Astronomers, one in France, the other in Denmark.  
(h) 
[For all the lousy Woodcocks still were left behind]  Vid. Where you can find it, this account. When any of the Woodcocks remain behind, the main body returning at Summer to the Land of the Moon, they are reported to be all lousy.  
ay 
[In his own Substance quickens mouldering men  A vulgar observation— that dead Bodies in time turn all to perfect Lumps of Lice.  
(k) 
Without a Sibyl, or a Golden bough.]  Both which are necessary to one that intends a visit to the Infernal Regions— ask Virgil else.  
(l) 
[Here Kellys Devils buzz round me,  
Here Dr. Dees dumfound me]  See Dr. Casauban's account of those Spirits with whom Dr. Dee and Kelly had contracted so intimate a Correspondence. Very good natured Devils it seems, for they persuaded the Conjurers to sw●p Wives, as a necessary Ceremony in their Magical operations.  
(m) 
[Here's Mephistophilus with tail, and Horns and Hair.]  A Thundering Devil that, Dr. Faustus' familiar. See his Life.  
(n) 
[Bands of Quevedo's hungry Tailors wait.]  Scarce any body but has read Quevedo's Visions of Hell, nor can any that have read 'em sure forget how over●stockt he m●kes the sooty regions with that kind of Cattle.  
(o) 
[His martial Soul peeps through his Alabaster skin,  
The Bloody drop—]  No Creature in the world so testy as a Louse. In a Microscope, one drop of Blood is seen passing up and down very nimbly in the nature of a pulse.  
(p) 
[And cries, pound on! 'tis but the husk of Anaxagoras.]  I would entreat any that know that hardnamed Gentleman's right Name to keep silence, for ' 'twould ' spoil the Rhyme sadly if this should be blotted out, and that inserted.   
FINIS▪