Now enters Bush with new state airs,
His lordship's premier minister;
And who in all profound affairs
Is held as needful as his + clyfter.
With head reclining on his fhoulder,
He deals and hears myfterious chat,
While every ignorant beholder
Afks of his neighbour, who is that?
With this he put up to my lord,
The courtiers kept their distance due,
He twitch'd his fleeve, and stole a word;
Then to a corner both withdrew.
Imagine now, my lord and Bush
Whispering in junto most profound,
Like good king ‡ Phyz and good king Ufh,
While all the reft ftood gaping round.
At length a spark not too well bred,
Of forward face and ear acute,
Advanc'd on tiptoe, lean'd his head,
To over-hear the grand difpute;
To learn what Northern kings defign,
Or from Whitehall fome new exprefs,
Papifts difarm'd, or fall of coin:
For fure (thought he) it can't be less.
*Bush, by fome underhand infinuation, obtained the post of fecretary; which had been promised to Swift, † Always taken before my lord went to council.
My lord, faid Bush, a friend and I,
Difguis'd in two old thread-bare coats,
Ere morning's dawn, ftole out to spy
How markets went for hay and oats.
With that he draws two handfuls out,
The one was oats, the other hay;
Puts this to's excellency's fnout,
And begs he would the other weigh.
My lord feems pleas'd, but ftill directs
By all means to bring down the rates;
Then, with a congee circumflex,
Bush, smiling round on all, retreats.
Our listener ftood a while confus'd,
But, gathering fpirits, wifely ran for 't,
Enrag'd to fee the world abus'd
By two fuch whispering kings of Brentford.
PROBLEM.
"THAT MY LORD BERKELEY STINKS, WHEN HE IS IN LOVE."
ID ever problem thus perplex,
Or more employ, the female fex?
So fweet a paffion, who would think,
Jove ever form'd to make a stink?
The ladies vow and fwear, they'll try,
Whether it be a truth or lye.
Love's fire, it seems, like inward heat,
Works in my lord by ftool and fweat,
Which brings a ftink from every pore,
And from behind and from before;
Yet, what is wonderful to tell it,
None but the favourite nymph can smell it.
But now, to folve the natural caufe
By fober philofophic laws :
Whether all paffions, when in ferment,
Work out as anger does in vermin ;
So, when a weazel you torment,
You find his paflion by his fcent.
We read of kings, who, in a fright,
Though on a throne, would fall to fh.
Befide all this, deep fcholars know,
That the main ftring of Cupid's bow
Once on a time was an a- gut;
Now to a nobler office put,
By favour or defert preferr'd
From giving paffage to a t-;
But ftill, though fix'd among the stars
Does fympathize with human a—.
Thus, when you feel an hard-bound breech,
Conclude love's bow-string at full stretch,
Till the kind loofenefs comes, and then
Conclude the bow relax'd again.
And now, the ladies all are bent
To try the great experiment,
Ambitious of a regent's heart,
Spread all their charms to catch a f;
Watching the firft unfavoury wind,
Some ply before, and fome behind.
My lord, on fire amidst the dames,
F-ts like a laurel in the flames.
The fair approach the speaking part,
To try the back-way to his heart.
For, as when we a gun discharge,
Although the bore be ne'er fo large,
Before the flame from muzzle burst,
Juft at the breech it flashes first :
So from my lord his paffion broke,
He fd firft, and then he spoke.
The ladies vanifh in the fmother,
To confer notes with one another ;
And now they all agreed to name
Whom each-one thought the happy dame.
Quoth Neal, whate'er the reft may think,
I'm fure 'twas I, that smelt the stink.
You smell the ftink! by G-, you lye,
Quoth Rofs, for I'll be fworn 'twas I.
Ladies, quoth Levens, pray forbear :
Let's not fall out; we all had fhare,
And, by the most I can discover,
My lord 's an univerfal lover.
Pliny, Nat. Hift. lib. x. c. 67. lib. xxix. c. 4.
S maftiff dogs in modern phrafe are Call'd Pompey, Scipio, and Cæfar; pyes and daws are often flyl'd
With Chriftian nicknames, like a child;
As we fay Monfieur to an Ape,
Without offence to human fhape;
So men have got from bird and brute
Names that would beft their natures fuit.
The Lion, Eagle, Fox, and Boar,
Were Heroes titles heretofore,
Beftow'd as hieroglyphics fit
To fhew their valour, ftrength, or wit:
For what is understood by fame,
Befides the getting of a name?
But, e'er fince men invented guns,
A different way their fancy runs :
To paint a Hero, we inquire
For fomething that will conquer fire.
Would you defcribe Turenne or Trump?
Think of a bucket or a pump.
Are thefe too low-then find out grander, Call my lord Cutts a Salamander.
'Tis well;-but, fince we live among
Detractors with an evil tongue,
Who may object against the term,
what we affirm:
Pliny fhall prove, and we 'll apply,
And I'll be judg'd by ftanders-by.
First, then, our author has defin'd
This reptile of the Serpent kind,
With gaudy coat and shining train
But loathsome spots his body stain :
Out from fome hole obfcure he flies,
When rains defcend, and tempefts rife,
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