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Should, ere a wife, become a nurse,
Her friends would look on her the worfe.
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 fhore,
Down comes the nobles of the land;
Each brings his daughter in his hand,
Befeeching the imperious tar

To make her but one hour his care.
The tender mother ftands affrighted,
Left her dear daughter fhould be flighted;
And poor miss Yaya dreads the shame
Of going back the maid she came.
Obferve how custom, Dick, compels
The lady that in Europe dwells :
After her tea she slips away;
And what to do one need not fay.
Now fee how great Pomonque's queen
Behav'd herself among the men :
Pleas'd with her punch, the gallant foul
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 inftances, fo far from home.

What parts gay France from fober Spain?
A little rifing, rocky chain.

Of men born fouth or north o' th' hill,
Those feldom move, these ne'er stand still.

Dick

Dick, you love maps, and may perceive
Rome not far diftant from Geneve ;

If the good pope remains at home,
He's the first prince in Chriftendome.
Choose then, good pope, at home to stay;
Nor weftward curious take thy way:
Thy way unhappy fhould'ft thou take,
From Tiber's bank to Leman-Lake;
Thou art an aged priest no more,
But a young, flaring, painted whore ;
Thy fex is loft; thy town is gone;
No longer Rome, but Babylon.

That some few leagues should make this change,
To men unlearn'd feems mighty ftrange.

But need we, friend, infift on this?

Since in the very Cantons Swifs,
All your philofophers 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 fmile, quoth Dick,

Your proofs come mighty full, and thick,
The bard on this extenfive chapter,
Wound up into poetic rapture,
Continu'd Richard, caft your eye
By night upon a winter sky:
Caft it by day-light on the ftrand
Which compaffes fair Albion's land:
If you can count the ftars 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'st at thy leisure read.
For, ftanding every critic's rage,
I fafely will to future age
My Syftem, as a gift, bequeath,
Victorious over spight, and death.

VOL. II.

M

CANTO

R

CANTO III.

ICHARD, who now was half a-fleep,
Rous'd, nor would longer filence keep:
And fenfe 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 fenfe, at least 'tis Greek.

As folks, quoth Richard, prone to leafing,
Say things at firft, because they're pleafing ;
Then prove what they have once afferted;
Nor care to have their lye deferted:
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 prefent fire:
Yet if the object of their love
Chance, by Lucina's aid to prove ;
They feldom 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 ferious thought and care fupport,

What only was begun in fport.

Juk

Juft 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 feeds of cafual wit

Do fome fantastic birth beget;

And, pleas'd to find your system mended
Beyond what you at first intended,
The happy whimsey you pursue,
Till you 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 difcern,

That one must teach, and t'other learn.
No fool Pythagoras was thought:
Whilst he his weighty doctrines taught,
He made his lift'ning scholars ftand,
Their mouth ftill cover'd with their hand;
Elfe, may be, fome odd-thinking youth,
Lefs friend to doctrine than to truth,
Might have refus'd to let his ears
Attend the mufic 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 deftroyed.
Deny Des-cart his fubtil matter,
You leave him neither fire nor water.

A

M 2

How

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