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n Europe 'twould be hard to find

Of men born south or north o'th' hill, n each degree one half so kind.

Those seldoin move, these ne'er stand still. “Now turn we to the farthest east,

Dick, you love maps, and may perceive And there observe the gentry drest.

Rome not far distant from Genere. Prince Giolo, and his royal sisters,

If the good pope remains at home, Scarr'd with ten thousand comely blisters;

He's the first prince in Christendom. The marks remaining on the skin,

Choose then, good pope, at home to stay, To tell the quality within.

Nor westward curious take thy way: Distinguish'd slashies deck the great :

Toy way unhappy should'st thou take As each excels in birth or state,

From Tyber's bank to Leman lake, Flis oylet-holes are more and ampler :

Thou art an aged priest no more, The king's own body was a sampler.

But a young faring painted whore: Happy the cliinate, where the beau

Thy sex is lost, thy town is gone; Wears the same sult for use and show :

No longer Rome, but Babylon, And at a small expense your wife,

That some few leagues should inake this change, It once well pink'd, is cloth'd with life.

To men unlearn'd seems mighty strange. “ Westward again, the Indian fair

“Butneed we, friend, insist on this? Is nicely smear'd with fat of bear:

Since, in the very Canton Swiss, Before you see, you smell your toast;

All your philosophers agree, And swectest she who stinks the most,

And prove it plain, that one may be The finest sparks and cleane'st beaux

A hcretic, or true believer, Drip froin the shoulders to the toes:

On this, or t’other side a river." How slurk their skins! their joints how casy! “Here,” with an artful sinile, quoth Dicks There slovens only are not greasy!

“Your proofs come mighty full and thick.' I inention'd different ways of breeding :

The bard, on this extensive chapter Begin we in our children's reading,

Wound up into poctic rapture, To master John the English inaid

Continued: “ Richard, cast your eye, A horn-book gives of gingerbread;

By night, upon a winter-sky: And, that the child may learn the better,

Cast it by day-light on the strand, As he can name, he eats the letter.

Which compasses fair Albion's land: Proceeding thus with cast delight,

If you can count the stars that glow He spells, and gnaws, from left to right.

Above, or sands that lie below, But, shew a Hebrew's hopeful son

Into those common places look, Where we suppose the book begun,

Which from great authors I have took, The child would thank you for your kindness, And count the proofs I have collected, And read quite backward from our finis.

To have my writings well protected. Devour he learning ne'er so fast,

These I lay by for time of necd, Great A would be reserv'd the last.

And thou may'st at thy leisure read. “ An equal instance of this inatter

For, standing every critic's rage, Is in the manners of a daughter.

I safely will to future age In Europe, if a harmless majd,

My system, as a gift, bequeath,
By Nature and by Love betray'd,

Victorious over Spite and Death."
Should, ere a wife, become a nurse,
Her friends would look on her the worse,
In China, Dampier's Travels tell ye,

Look in his lodex for Pagelli)
Soon as the British ships unmoor,

RICHARD, who now was half a sleep,
And jolly long-boat rows to shore,

Rous'd, nor would longer silence keep, Down come the nobles of the land :

And sense like this, in vocal breath, Each brings his daughter in his hand,

Broke froin his two-fold hedge of teeth. Beseeching the imperious tar

Now, if this phrase too harsh be thought, 'To make her but one hour his care.

Pope, tell the world, 'tis not my fault. The tender mother stands atlighted,

Old Homer taught us thus to speak; Lest her dear daughter should be slighted :

If 'tis not sense, at least 'tis Greek. And poor miss Yaya dreads the shame

As folks," quoth Richard, “ prone to leasing, Of going back the maid she came.

Say things at first, because they're pleasing, * Observe how custom, Diek, compels

Then prove what they have once asserted, The lady that in Europe dwells:

Vor care to have their lie deserted, After her tea, she slips away,

Till their own dreams at length deceive 'em, And what to do, one need not say,

And, oft repeating, they believe 'em: Now see how great Pomonque's queen

Or as, again, those amorous blades, Behav'd herself amongst the men:

Who tride with their mothers' maids, Pleas'd with her punch, the gallant soul

Though at the first their wild desiro First drank, then water d in the bowl;

Was but to quench a present fire; And sprinkled in the captain's face

Yet if the object of their love The marks of her peculiar grace.

Chance by Lucina's aid to prove, To close this point, we need not roam

They seldom let the bantling roar For instances so far froin home.

In basket at a neighbour's door ; What parts gay France from sober Spain}

But, by the flattering glass of Nature A little rising rucky chain.

Viewing themselves in cuke-brcad's feature,

With serious thought and care support

Who does his mind in words reveal, What only was begun in sport :

Which all must grant, though few can spell. “ Just so with you, my friend, it fares,

You tell your doctor that y're ill: Who deal in philosophịc wares.

And what does he, but write a bill? Atoms you cut, and forms you measure,

Of which you need not read one letter : To gratify your private pleasure;

The worse the scrawl, the dose the better. Till airy seeds of casual wit

For if you knew but what you take, Do some fantastic birth beget;

Though you recover, he must break, And, pleas'd to find your system mended

Ideas, forms, and intellects, Beyond what you at first intended,

Have furnish'd out three ditferent sects, The happy whimsey you pursue,

Substance, or accident, divides, Till you at length believe it true.

All Europe into adverse sides. Caught by your own delusive art,

“ Now, as, engag'd in arms or laws, You fancy tirst, and then assert

You must have friends to back your cause; Quoth Matthew: “ Friend, as far as I

In philosophic matters so Through Art or Nature cast my eye,

Your judgment must with others' go: This axion clearly I discern,

For as in senates, so in schools, That one must teach, and t'other learn,

Majority of voices rules. No fool Pythagoras was thought;

“ Poor Alma, like a lonely deer, Whilst he his weighty doctrines taught,

O'er hills and dales does doubtful err: He made his listening scholars stand,

With panting haste, and quick surprise, Their mouth still cover'd with their hand;

From every leaf that stirs, she flies; Else, may be, some add-thinking youth,

Till, mingled with the neighbouring herd, Less friend to doctrine than to truth,

She slights what erst she singly fear'd: Migbt have refus'd to let his ears

And now, exempt from doubt and dread, Attend the music of the spheres;

She darts pursue, if they dare lead ; Deny'd all transmigrating scenes,

As their exainple still prevails, And introduc'd the use of beans.

She tempts the stream, or leaps the pales.” From great Lucretius take his void,

“ He then," quoth Dick, " who by your rule And all the world is quite destroy'd.

Thinks for himself, becomes a fuol; Deny Des-cart his subtil inatter,

As party man, who leaves the rest, You leave him neither life nor water,

Is call'd but ichimsical' at best. How oddly would sir Isaac look,

Now, by your favour, master Mat, If you, in answer to his book,

Like Ralpho, here I smell a rat. Say in the front of your discourse,

I must be listed in your sect, That things have no elastic force!

Who, though they teach not, can How could our chymic friends go on,

Right, Richard," Mat in triumph cry'd: Tu find the philosophic stone,

“ So put off all mistrust and pride. If you more powerful reasons bring,

And, while my principles I beg, To prove that there is no such thing?

Pray answer only with your leg. " Your chicfs in sciences and arts

Believe what friendly I advise : Have great contempt of Alma's parts.

Be first secure, and then be wise. They find sbe giddy is, or dull;

The n an within the coach that sits, She doubts if things are void, or full :

And to another's skill submits, And who should be presum'd to tell

Is safer much, (whate'er arrives) What she herself should see, or feel?

And warmer too, than he that drives. She doubts if two and two make four,

“ So Dick Adept, tuck back thy hair, Though she has told them ten times o'er,

And I will pour into thy ear It can't-it may be and it must :!

Remarks, which none did e'er disclose To which of these must Alina trust?

In smooth-pac'd verse, or hobbling prose, Nay further yet they make her go

Attend, dear Dick; but don't reply: in doubting, if she doubts, or do,

And thou inay'st prove as wise as I. Can syllogism set things right?

" When Alma now, in different ages, No: majors soon with minors fight;

Has finish'd her ascending stages, Or, bo:h in friendly consort join'd,

Into the head at length she gets, The consequence limps false behind.

And there in public grandeur sits, So to some cunning man she goes,

To judge of things, and censure wits And asks of him, how much she knows.

Here, Richard, how could I explain With patience grave he hears her speak,

The various labyrinths of the brain ! And from his short notes gives her back

Surprise my readers, whilst I tell 'em What from her tale be comprehended ;

Of cerebrum, and cerebellum ! Thus the dispute is wisely ended.

How could I play the commentator “ From the account the loser brings,

On dura and on pia mater! The conjuror knows who stole the things."

Where hot and cold, and dry and wet, 'Squire,” interrupted Dick, “ since when Strive each the other's place to get; Were you amongst these cunning men ?"

And, with incessant toil and strife,
“ Dear Dick,” quoth Matt, " let not thy force Would keep possession during life.
Of eloquence spoil my discourse.
I tell thee, this is Alina's case,

Some of the Tories, in the queen's reign, were Still asking what some wise man says,

distinguished by that appollation.

I could demonstrate every pore,

Holds that the happy know no hours; Where memory lays up all her store;

So through the street at midnight scowers, And to an inch compute the station

Breaks watchmen's heads and chairmen's glasses, "Twixt judgment and imagination.

And thence proceeds to picking sashes; O‘friend! I could display much learning,

Till, by some tougher hand o'ercome, At least to men of small discerning.

And first knock'd down, and then led home, The brain contains ten thousand cells:

He damns the footinan, strikes the maid, In each some active fancy dwells;

And decently reels up to bed. Which always is at work, and framing

“ Observe the various operations The several follies I was naming.

Of food and drink in stveral nations. As in a hive's vimineous dome

Was ever Tartar fierce or cruel Ten thousand bees enjoy their home,

Upon the strength of water-grnel? Fach does her studious actions vary,

But who shall stand his rage and force, To go and come, to fetch and carry;

If first he rides, then cats his horse? Fach still renews her little labour,

Sallads, and eggs, and lighter fare, Nor justles her assiduous neighbour :

Tune the Italian spark's guitar. Each-whilst this thesis I maintain,

And, if I take Dan Congreve right, I fancy, Dick, I know thy brain.

Pudding and beef make Britons fight. O, with the mighty theme affected,

Tokay and coffee cause this work Could I but see thy head dissected !"

Between the German and the Turk; “ My head !" quoth Dick, " to serve your whim! And both, as they provisions want, Spare that, and take some other limb.

Chicane avoid, retire and saint. Sir, in your nice affairs of system,

“ Hunger and thirst, or guns and swords, Wise men propose; but fools assist 'em.”

Give the same death in different words.
Says Matthew, “ Richard, keep thy head, To push this argument no further;
And hold thy peace; and I'll proceed.”

To starve a man, in law is murther. Proceed !" quoth Dick: “Sir, I aver,

“ As in a watch's fine machine, . You have already gone too far.

Though many artful springs are seen ; When people once are in the wrong,

The added movements, which declare Each line they add is much too long.

-How full the Moon, how old the year, Who fastest walks, but walks astray,

Derive their secondary power Is only furthest from his way.

From that which simply points the hour. Bless your concejts! must I believe,

For, though those gim-cracks were away, Howe'er absurd, what you conceive;

(Quare would not swcar, but Quare would say) And, for your friendship, live and die

However more reduc'd and plain, A papist in philosophy

The watch would still a watch remain ! I say, whatever you maintain

But, if the horal orbit ceases, Of Alma in the heart or brain,

The whole stands still, or breaks to pieces; The plainest man alive may tell ye,

Is now no longer what it was, Her seat of empire is the belly :

And you may e'en go sell the case. From hence she sends out those supplies,

So, if unprejudic'd you scan Which makes us either stout or wise;

The goings of this clock-work man, The strength of every other member

You find a hundred movements made Is founded on your belly-timber;

By fine devices in his head; The qualms or raptures of your blood

But 'tis the stomach's solid stroke Rise in proportion to your food;

That tells his being what's o'clock. And, if you would im ove your thought,

If you take off this rhetoric trigger, You must be fed as well as taught.

He talks no more in inode and figure; Your stomach makes your fabric roll,

Or, clog his mathematic-wheel, Just as the bias rules the bowl.

His buildings fall, his ship stands still; The great Achilles might employ

Or, lastly, break his politic-weight, The strength design'd to ruin Troy ;

His voice no longer rules the state. He din'd on lion's marrow, spread

Yet, if these finer whims are gone, On toasts of ammunition bread:

Your clock, though plain, would still go on; But, by his mother sent away,

But spoil the engine of digestion, Amongst the 'Thracian girls to play,

And you entirely change the question. Efteminate he sat, and quiet:

Alma's affairs no power can mend; Strange product of a cheese-cake djet !

The jest, alas! is at an end : Now give my argument fair play,

Soon ceases all the worldly bustle, And take the thing the other way:

And you consigu the corpse to Russe). The youngster, who at nine and threc

“ Now make your Alma come or go Drinks with his sisters milk and tea,

Froin leg to handl, from top to toe, Prom breakfast reads till twelve o'clock,

Your system, without my addition, Burnet and Heylin, Hobbes, and Locke:

Is in a very sad conclition. He pays due visits after noon

So Harlequin extoll'd his horse, To cousin Alice and uncle John.

l'it for the war, or road, or course! At ten from cotti e-bonse or play

His mouth was soft, his eye was goal, Returning, finishes the day.

His foot was sure as ever trod : But, give himn port and potent sack,

One fault he had (a fault indeed!); From milksop he starts up Mohacks

And what was that the horse was dead."

“ Dick, from these instances and fetches, Or why, as years our frame attack,
Thou mak'st of hørses, clocks, and watches,” Our hairs grow white, our teeth grow black?
Quoth Mat, “ to me thou seem'st to mean, In points like these we must agree,
That Alma is a mere machine :

Our barbers know as much as we.
That, telling others what's o'clock,

Yet still, unable to explain, She knows not what herself has struck;

We must persist the best we can; But leaves to standers-by the trial

With care our system still renew, Of what is mark'd upon her dial.”.

And prove things likely, though not true. “ Here hold a blon, good friend," quoth Dick, “ I could, thou seest, in quaint dispute, And rais'd his voice exceeding quick.

By dint of logic, strike thee mute; “ Fight fair, sir : what I never meant

With learned skill, now push, now party, Don't you infer. In argument

From Darii to Bocardo vary, Similies are like songs in love :

And never yield; or, what is worst, They much describe; they nothing prove.” Never conclude the point discours'd. Mat, who was here a little graveli'd,

Yet, that you hic & nunc may know Tost up bis nose, and would have cavill'd; How much you to iny candour owe, But, calling Hermes to his aid,

I'll from the disputant descend, Half pleas'd, half angry, thus he said :

To show thee, I assume the friend : (Where mind ('tis for the author's fame)

I'll take thy notion for my own That Matthew call'd, and Hermes came.

(So most philosophers have done) In danger heroes, and in doubt

It makes my system more complete: Poets find gods to help them out.)

Dick, can it have a nobler fate?” “ Friend Richard, I begin to sce,

“ Take what thou wilt,” said Dick, "dear friend? That you and I shall scarce agree.

But bring thy matters to an end." Observe how oddly you behave:

I find," quoth Mat," reproof is vain : The more I grant, the more you crave.

Who first offend, will first complain. But, comrade, as I said just now,

Thou wishest I should make to shore ; I should affirm, and you allow.

Yet still putt'st in thy thwarting oar, We system-makers can sustain

What I have told thee fifty times The thesis, which you grant was plain ;

In prose, receive for once in rhymes : And with remarks and comments teaze ye,

A huge fat man in country-fair, In case the thing before was easy.

Or city-church, (no matter where) But, in a point obscure and dark,

Labour'd and push'd amidst the crowd, We fight as Leibnitz did with Clarke ;

Still bawling out extremely loud, And, when no reason we can show,

“Lord save us ! why do people press ! Why matters this or that way go,

Another, marking his distress, The shortest way the thing we try,

Friendly reply'd, • Plump gentleman, And what we know not, we deny

Get out as fast as e'er you can; True to our own o'urbearing pride,

Or cease to push, or to exclaim : And false to all the world beside.

You make the very crowd you blame.” " That old philosopher grew cross,

Says Dick, “ Your moral does not need Who could not tell what motion was:

The least return; so e'en proceed : Because he walk'd against his will,

Your tale, howe'er apply'd, was short: He fac'd men down, that he stood still.

So far, at least, I thank you for't.” And he who, reading on the heart,

Mat took his thanks; and, in a tone (When all his quodlibets of art

More magisterial, thus went on. Could not expound its pulse and heat)

“ Now Alma settles in the head, Swore he had never felt it beat.

As has before been sung or said: Chrysippus, foil'd by Epicurus,

And here begins this farce of life; Makes bold (Jove bless him!) to assure us,

Enter Revenge, Ambition, Strife : That all things, which our mind can view,

Behold orrboth sides men advance, May be at once both false and true.

To form in eamest Bays's dance. And Malebranche has an odd conceit,

L'Avarc, not using half his store, As ever enter'd Frenchman's pate:

Still grumbles that he has no more ; Says he, “ So little can our mind

Strikes not the present tun, for fear Of matur or of spirit find,

The vintage should be bad next year; That we by guess at least may gather

And eats to day with inward sorrow, Something, wh‘ch may be both, or neither.' And dread of fancy'd want to morrow. Faith, Dick, I must confess, 'tis true,

Abroad if the surtout you wear (But this is only entre nous)

Repels the rigour of the air; That many knotty points there are,

Would you be warmer, if at home Which all discuss, but few can clear;

You had the fabric and the loom? As Satare slily had thought fit,

And, if two boots keep out the weather, For some by-tals, to criss-bite wit:

What need you have two hicles of leather? Circles to square, and ruires to double,

Could Pedro, think you, make no trial Would give a man extensive trouble;

Of a sonała on his viol, The longitude uncertain roarns,

I'ndess he had the total gut In spite of W'histon and his bombs,

Whenee every string at first was ent? What system, Dick, has right averr'd

" When Rarus shows you his cartone, The cause why woman has no beard?

He always tells you, with a groan,

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Where two of that same hand were torn,

The bead-roll of her vicious trieks, Long before you or he were boro.

My poem would be too prolix. “ Poor Vento's mind so much is crost,

For, could I my remarks sustain, For part of his Petronius lost,

Like Socrates, or Miles Montaigne, That he can never take the pains

Who in these times would read my books, To understand what yet remains.

But Tom o'Stiles, or John o'Nokes? “ What toil did honest Curio take,

As Brentford kings, discreet and wise, What strict inquiries did he make,

After long thought aud grave advice, To get one medal wanting yet,

Into Lardella's coffin peeping, And perfect all his Roman set !

Saw nought to cause their mirth or weeping: 'Tis found: and, O his happy lot!

So Alma, now to joy or grief "Tis bought, lock'd up, and lies forgot :

Superior, finds her late relief: Of these no more you hear him speak:

Weary'd of being high or great, He now begins upon the Greek.

And nodding in her chair of state ; These, rang`d and show'd, shall in their turns Stunn'd and worn out with endless chat Remain obscure as in their urgs.

Of Will did this, and Nan said that; My copper lampe, at any rate,

She finds, poor thing, some little crack, For being true antique, I bought;

Which Nature, fore'd by Time, must make, Yet wisely melted down my plate,

Through which she wings her destind way; On modern models to be wrought;

Upward she soapy, and down drops clays And trifles / alike pursue,

While some surviving friend supplies Because they're old, because they're new,

Hic jacet, and a hundred lies, “ Dick, I have seen you with delight,

“O Richard, till that day appears, For Georgy' make a paper kite.

Which must decide qur hopes and fears, And simple ode too many show ye

Would Fortune calm her present rage, My servile complaisance to Chloe.

And give us play-things for our age: Parents and lovers are decreed

Would Clotho wash her hands in milk, By Nature fools."" That's brave indeed !” And twist our thread with gold and silk; Quoth Dick: "such truths are worth receiving,"

Would she, in friendship, peace and plenty, Yet still Dick look'd as not believing.

Spin out our years to four times twenty ; Now, Alma, to divines and prose

And should we both, in this condition, I leave thy frauds, and crimes, and woes;

Have conquer'd love, and worse Ambition, Nor think to night of thy ill-nature,

(Else those two passions, by the way, But of thy follies, idle creature !

May chance to show us scurvy play) The turns of thy uncertain wing,

Then, Richard, then should we sit down, And not the malice of thy sting :

Far from the tumult of this town; Thy pride of being great and wise

I fond of my well-chosen seat, I do but mention, to despise;

My pictures, medals, books complete, I view, with anger and disdain,

Or, should we mis our friendly talk, How little gives thee joy or pains

O'ershaded in that favourite walk, A print, a bronze, a tioner, a root,

Wbịch thy own hand had whilom planted, A shell, a butterfly, can do't:

Both pleas'd with all we thought we wanted : Ev'o a romance, a tune, a rhyme,

Yet then, evin then, one cross reflection Help thee to pass the tedious tiine,

Would spoil thy grove, and my collection : Which else would on thy hand remain ;

Thy son, and his, ere that, may die, Though, flown, it ne'er looks back again ;

And Time some uncouth heir supply, And cards are dealt, and chess-boards brought, Whq shall for nothing else be known To ease the pain of coward Thought :

But spoiling all that thou hast done. Happy result of human wit !

Who set the twigs shall he remember That Alma may herself forget.

That is in haste to sell the timber? Dick, thus we act; and thus we are,

And what shall of thy woods remain, Or toss'd by hope, or sunk by care.

Except the box that threw the main ? With endless pain this man pursues

Nay, may not Time and Death remore What, if he gain'd, he could not use ;

The near relations whom I love? And t'other fondly hopes to see

And my coz Tom, or his coz Mary, What never was, nor e'er shall be.

(Who hold the plough, or skim the dairy) We err by use, go wrong by rules,

My favourite books and pictures sell In gesture grave, in action fools :

To Smart, or Doiley, by the ell ? We join hypocrisy to pride,

Kindly throw in a little figure, Doubling the faults we strive to hice,

And set the price upon the bigger ? Or grant that, with extreme surprise,

T'hose who could never read the grammar, We find ourselres at sixty wise,

When my dear volumes touch the hammer, And twenty pretty things are known,

May think books best, as richest bound; Of which we can't accomplish one ;

My copper medals by the pound Whilst, as my sysiem says, the Mind

May be with leamed justice weighid; Is to these upper rooms confin'd.

To turn the balance, Otho's head Should I, my friend, at large repeat

May be thrown in; and, for the inetal, Her borrow'd sense, her fond conceit,

The coin may mend a tinker's kettle

“Tir'd with these thoughts”-“Less tir'd than $;"* * Mr. Skelton's som

Quroth Dick, "with your philosophy

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