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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 index for Pagelli)
Soon as the British ships unmoore,
And jolly long-boat rows to shore,
Down comes the nobles of the land ;
Each brings his daughter in his hand,
Beseeching the imperious tar
To make her but one hour his care.
The tender mother stands affrighted,
Leit her dear daughter should be slighted;
And poor miss Yaya dreads the shame
Of going back the maid she came.
Observe how custom, Dick, compels
The lady that in Europe dwells :
After her tea she slips away ;
And what to do one need not say.
Now see how great Pomonque's queen
Behav'd herself among the men :
Pleas'd with her punch, the gallant soul
First drank, then water'd in the bowl ;
And sprinkled in the captain's face
The marks of her peculiar grace
To close this point, we need not roam,
For instances, so far from home.
What parts gay France from sober Spain ?
A little rifing, rocky chain.
Of men born south or north o'th' hill,
Those seldom move, these ne'er stand still.
Dick, you love maps, and may perceive
Rome not far distant from Geneve ;
If the good pope remains at home,
He's the first prince in Christendome.
Choose then, good pope, at home to stay;
Nor weftward curious take thy way:
Thy way unhappy should'st thou take,
From Tiber's bank to Leman-Lake;
Thou art an aged prieft no more,
But a young, faring, painted whore ;
Thy sex is loft; thy town is gone ;
No longer Rome, but Babylon.
That some few leagues should make this change,
To men unlearn'd seems mighty strange.
But need we, friend, infift on this ?
Since in the very Cantons Swiss,
All your philosophers agree,
And prove it plain, that one may be
A heretic, or true believer,
On this, or t’other fide a river.
Here, with an artful smile, quoth Dick, Your proofs come mighty full, and thick,
The bard on this extensive chapter,
Vound up into poetic rapture,
Continu'd : Richard, caft your eye
By night upon a winter sky:
Caft it by day-light on the strand
Which compasses fair Albion's land:
If you can count the stars that glow
Above, or fands that lie below;
Into these common-places look,
Which from great authors I have took ;
And count the proofs I have collected,
To have my writings well protected.
These I lay by for time of need;
And thou may't at thy leisure read.
For, standing every critic's rage,
I safely will to future age
My System, as a gift, bequeath,
Victorious over fpight, and death,
ICHARD, who now was half a-fleep,
Rous'd, nor would longer filence keep:
And sense like this, in vocal breath
Broke from his two-fold hedge of teeth,
Now if this phrase too harsh be thought,
Pope, tell the world 'tis not my fault.
Old Homer taught us thus to speak;
If 'tis not sense, at least 'tis Greek.
As folks, quoth Richard, prone to leasing,
Say things at first, because they're pleasing ;
what they have once asserted;
Nor care to have their lye deserted :
Till their own dreams at length deceive 'em ;
And oft repeating, they believe 'em :
Or as, again, those amorous blades,
Who trifle with their mother's maids ;
Tho', at the first, their wild defire
Was but to quench a present fire:
Yet if the object of their love
Chance, by Lucina's aid to prove ;
They seldom let the bantling roar
In basket, at a neighbour's door:
But by the flatt'ring glass of nature,
Viewing themselves in Cakebread's feature ;
With serious thought and care support,
What only was begun in sport.
Just fo with you, my friend, it fares,
Who deal in philofophic wares ;
Atoms you cut, and forms you measure,
To gratify your private pleasure ;
Till airy seeds of casual wit
Do some fantastic birth beget;
And, pleas'd to find your fyftem mended
Beyond what you at first intended,
The happy whimsey you pursue,
at length believe it true. Caught by your own delufive art, You fancy first, and then affert.
Quoth Matthew : Friend, as far as I
Thro' art or nature cast my eye,
This axiom clearly I discern,
That one must teach, and t’other learn.
No fool Pythagoras was thought :
Whilst he his weighty doctrines taught,
He made his liftning scholars ftand,
Their mouth still cover'd with their hand;
Else, may be, some odd-thinking youth,
Less friend to doctrine than to truth,
Might have refus'd to let his ears
Attend the music of the spheres ;
Deny'd all transmigrating scenes,
And introduc'd the use of beans.
From great Lucretius take his void,
And all the world is quite destroyed.
Deny Des-cart his subtil matter,
You leave him neither fire nor water.