ALMA : OR , THE PROGRESS OF THE MIND . In Three Cantos . Incert . ap. Stobum .

THE FIRST CANTO . Matthew met Richard ; when or where From Story is not mighty clear : Of many knotty Points They spoke ; And Pro and Con by turns They took . Ratts half the Manuscript have eat : Dire Hunger ! which We still regret : O ! may they ne'er again digest The Horrors of so sad a Feast . Yet less our Grief , if what remains , Dear Jacob , by thy Care and Pains Shall be to future Times convey'd . It thus begins : Here Matthew said : Alma in Verse ; in Prose , the Mind , By Aristotle's Pen defin'd , Throughout the Body squat or tall , Is , bonâ fide , All in All . And yet , slap dash , is All again In every Sinew , Nerve , and Vein . Runs here and there , like Hamlet's Ghost ; While every where She rules the roast . This System , Richard , We are told , The Men of Oxford firmly hold . The Cambridge Wits , You know , deny With Ipse dixit to comply . They say ( for in good truth They speak With small Respect of that old Greek ) That , putting all his Words together , 'Tis Three blew Beans in One blew Bladder . Alma , They strenuously maintain , Sits Cock-horse on Her Throne , the Brain ; And from that Seat of Thought dispenses Her Sov'reign Pleasure to the Senses . Two Optic Nerves , They say , She tyes , Like Spectacles , a-cross the Eyes ; By which the Spirits bring her Word , Whene'er the Balls are fix'd , or stirr'd ; How quick at Park and Play they strike ; The Duke they court ; the Toast they like ; And at St James's turn their Grace From former Friends , now out of Place . Without these Aids , to be more serious , Her Pow'r , They hold , had been precarious : The Eyes might have conspir'd her Ruin ; And She not known , what They were doing . Foolish it had been , and unkind , That They shou'd see , and She be blind . Wise Nature likewise , They suppose , Has drawn two Conduits down our Nose : Cou'd Alma else with Judgment tell , When Cabbage stinks , or Roses smell ? Or who wou'd ask for her Opinion Between an Oyster , and an Onion ? For from most Bodies , Dick , You know , Some little Bits ask Leave to flow ; And , as thro' these Canals They roll , Bring up a Sample of the Whole . Like Footmen running before Coaches , To tell the Inn , what Lord approaches . By Nerves about our Palate plac'd , She likewise judges of the Taste . Else ( dismal Thought ! ) our Warlike Men Might drink thick Port for fine Champagne ; And our ill-judging Wives and Daughters Mistake Small-beer for Citron-Waters . Hence too , that She might better hear , She sets a Drum at either Ear ; And Loud or Gentle , Harsh or Sweet , Are but th' Alarums which They beat . Last , to enjoy her Sense of Feeling ( A thing She much delights to deal in ) A thousand little Nerves She sends Quite to our Toes , and Fingers Ends ; And These in Gratitude again Return their Spirits to the Brain ; In which their Figure being printed ( As just before , I think , I hinted ) Alma inform'd can try the Case , As She had been upon the Place . Thus , while the Judge gives diff'rent Journeys To Country Counsel , and Attornies ; He on the Bench in quiet sits , Deciding , as They bring the Writs . The Pope thus prays and sleeps at Rome , And very seldom stirs from Home : Yet sending forth his Holy Spies , And having heard what They advise , He rules the Church's blest Dominions ; And sets Men's Faith by His Opinions . The Scholars of the Stagyrite , Who for the Old Opinion fight , Would make their Modern Friends confess , The diff'rence but from More to Less . The Mind , say They , while You sustain To hold her Station in the Brain ; You grant , at least , She is extended : Ergo the whole Dispute is ended . For , 'till To-morrow shou'd You plead From Form and Structure of the Head ; The Mind as visibly is seen Extended thro' the whole Machine . Why shou'd all Honor then be ta'en From Lower Parts to load the Brain ; When other Limbs we plainly see , Each in his way , as brisk as He ? For Music , grant the Head receives it ; It is the Artist's Hand that gives it . And tho' the Scull may wear the Laurel ; The Soldier's Arm sustains the Quarrel . Besides , the Nostrils , Ears , and Eyes Are not his Parts , but his Allies . Ev'n what You hear the Tongue proclaim , Comes ab Origine from them . What could the Head perform Alone , If all Their friendly Aids were gone ? A foolish figure He must make ; Do nothing else , but sleep and ake . Nor matters it , that You can show , How to the Head that Spirits go . Those Spirits started from some Goal , Before they thro' the Veins cou'd roll . Now We shou'd hold Them much to blame , If They went back , before They came . If therefore , as We must suppose , They came from Fingers , and from Toes ; Or Toes , or Fingers , in this Case , Of Num-scull's Self shou'd take the Place . Disputing fair , You grant thus much , That all Sensation is but Touch . Dip but your Toes into cold Water ; Their Correspondent Teeth will chatter : And strike the Bottom of your Feet ; You set your Head into a Heat . The Bully beat , and happy Lover Confess , that Feeling lies all over . Note here , Lucretius dares to teach ( As all our Youth may learn from Creech ) That Eyes were made , but cou'd not view ; Nor Hands embrace , nor Feet pursue : But heedless Nature did produce The Members first , and then the Use . What Each must act , was yet unknown , 'Till All is mov'd by Chance alone . A Man first builds a Country Seat ; Then finds the Walls not good to eat . Another plants , and wond'ring sees Nor Books , nor Medals on his Trees . Yet Poet and Philosopher Was He , who durst such Whims aver . Blest , for his Sake , be human Reason , That came at all , tho' late , in Season . But no Man sure e'er left his House , And saddl'd Ball , with Thoughts so wild , To bring a Midwife to his Spouse , Before He knew She was with Child . And no Man ever reapt his Corn , Or from the Oven drew his Bread , E'er Hinds and Bakers yet were born , That taught him both to Sow , and Knead . Before They're ask'd , can Maids refuse ? Can — Pray , says Dick , hold in your Muse . While You Pindaric Truths rehearse ; She hobbles in Alternate Verse . Verse ? MAT . reply'd : is that my Care ? Go on , quoth Richard , soft and fair . This looks , friend Dick , as Nature had But exercis'd the Salesman's Trade : As if She haply had sat down , And cut out Cloaths for all the Town ; Then sent them out to Monmouth-Street , To try , what Persons they wou'd fit . But ev'ry Free and Licenc'd Taylor Would in this Thesis find a Failure . Should Whims like these his Head perplex , How could he work for either Sex ? His Cloaths , as Atomes might prevail , Might fit a Pismire , or a Whale . No , no : He views with studious Pleasure Your Shape , before He takes your Measure . For real Kate He made the Boddice , And not for an Ideal Goddess . No Error near his Shop-board lurk'd : He knew the Folks for whom He work'd . Still to Their Size He aim'd his Skill : Else , pr'ythee , who wou'd pay his Bill ? Next , Dick , if Chance her self shou'd vary ; Observe , how Matters would miscarry : Across your Eyes , Friend , place your Shoes ; Your Spectacles upon your Toes : Then You and Memmius shall agree , How nicely Men would walk , or see . But Wisdom , peevish and cross-grain'd , Must be oppos'd , to be sustain'd . And still your Knowledge will increase , As You make other People's less . In Arms and Science 'tis the same : Our Rival's Hurts create our Fame . At Faubert's if Disputes arise Among the Champions for the Prize ; To prove , who gave the fairer Butt , John shows the Chalk on Robert's Coat . So , for the Honor of your Book , It tells , where other Folks mistook : And , as their Notions You confound , Those You invent get farther Ground . The Commentators on old Ari - stotle ( 'tis urg'd ) in Judgment vary : They to their own Conceits have brought The Image of his general Thought . Just as the Melancholic Eye Sees Fleets and Armies in the Sky ; And to the poor Apprentice Ear The Bells sound Whittington Lord May'r . The Conj'rer thus explains his Scheme Thus Spirits walk , and Prophets dream : North Britons thus have Second Sight ; And Germans free from Gunshot fight . Theodoret , and Origen , And fifty other Learned Men Attest , that if their Comments find The Traces of their Master's Mind ; Alma can ne'er decay nor dye : This flatly t'other Sect deny , Simplicius , Theophrast , Durand ; Great Names , but hard in Verse to stand . They wonder Men should have mistook The Tenets of their Master's Book ; And hold , that Alma yields her Breath , O'ercome by Age , and seiz'd by Death . Now which were Wise ? and which were Fools ? Poor Alma sits between two Stools : The more She reads , the more perplext ; The Comment ruining the Text : Now fears , now hopes her doubtful Fate : But , Richard , let her look to That — Whilst We our own Affairs pursue . These diff'rent Systems , Old or New , A Man with half an Eye may see , Were only form'd to disagree . Now to bring Things to fair Conclusion , And save much Christian Ink's Effusion ; Let me propose an Healing Scheme , And sail along the Middle Stream : For , Dick , if We could reconcile Old Aristotle with Gassendus ; How many would admire our Toil ; And yet how few would comprehend us ? Here , Richard , let my Scheme commence . Oh ! may my Words be lost in Sense ; While pleas'd Thalia deigns to write The Slips and Bounds of Alma's Flight . My simple System shall suppose , That Alma enters at the Toes ; That then She mounts by just Degrees Up to the Ancles , Legs , and Knees : Next , as the Sap of Life does rise , She lends her Vigor to the Thighs : And , all these under-Regions past , She nestles somewhere near the Waste : Gives Pain or Pleasure , Grief or Laughter ; As We shall show at large hereafter . Mature , if not improv'd , by Time Up to the Heart She loves to climb : From thence , compell'd by Craft and Age , She makes the Head her latest Stage . From the Feet upward to the Head ; Pithy , and short , says Dick : proceed . Dick , this is not an idle Notion : Observe the Progress of the Motion . First I demonstratively prove , That Feet were only made to move ; And Legs desire to come and go : For they have nothing else to do . Hence , long before the Child can crawl , He learns to kick , and wince , and sprawl : To hinder which , your Midwife knows To bind Those Parts extremely close ; Lest Alma newly enter'd in , And stunn'd at her own Christ'ning's Din , Fearful of future Grief and Pain , Should silently sneak out again . Full piteous seems young Alma's Case : As in a luckless Gamester's Place , She would not play , yet must not pass . Again as She grows something stronger , And Master's Feet are swath'd no longer , If in the Night too oft He kicks , Or shows his Loco-motive Tricks ; These first Assaults fat Kate repays Him , When half asleep She overlays Him . Now mark , Dear Richard , from the Age That Children tread this Worldly Stage , Broom-staff or Poaker they bestride , And round the Parlor love to ride ; 'Till thoughtful Father's pious Care Provides his Brood , next Smithfield Fair , With Supplemental Hobby-Horses : And happy be their Infant Courses ! Hence for some Years they ne'er stand still : Their Legs , You see , direct their Will . From opening Morn 'till setting Sun , A-round the Fields and Woods They run : They frisk , and dance , and leap , and play ; Nor heed , what Friend or Snape can say . To Her next Stage as Alma flies , And likes , as I have said , the Thighs : With Sympathetic Pow'r She warms , Their good Allies and Friends , the Arms . While Betty dances on the Green ; And Susan is at Stool-ball seen : While John for Nine-pins does declare ; And Roger loves to pitch the Bar ; Both Legs and Arms spontaneous move : Which was the Thing I meant to prove . Another Motion now She makes : O need I name the Seat She takes ? His Thought quite chang'd the Stripling finds ; The Sport and Race no more He minds : Neglected Tray and Pointer lye ; And Covies unmolested fly . Sudden the jocund Plain He leaves ; And for the Nymph in Secret grieves . In dying Accents He complains Of cruel Fires , and raging Pains . The Nymph too longs to be alone ; Leaves all the Swains ; and sighs for One . The Nymph is warm'd with young Desire ; And feels , and dies to quench His Fire . They meet each Evening in the Grove : Their Parley but augments their Love . So to the Priest their Case They tell : He ties the Knot ; and all goes well . But , O my Muse , just Distance keep : Thou art a Maid , and must not peep . In nine Months Time the Boddice loose , And Petticoats too short , disclose , That at This Age the active Mind About the Waste lies most confin'd ; And that young Life , and quick'ning Sense Spring from His Influence darted thence . So from the Middle of the World The Sun's prolifick Rays are hurl'd : 'Tis from That Seat He darts those Beams , Which quicken Earth with genial Flames . Dick , who thus long had passive sat , Here stroak'd his Chin , and cock'd his Hat ; Then slapp'd his Hand upon the Board ; And thus the Youth put in his Word . Love's Advocates , sweet Sir , would find Him A higher Place , than You assign'd Him . Love's Advocates , Dick , who are those ? — The Poets , You may well suppose . I'm sorry , Sir , You have discarded The Men , with whom 'till now You herded . Prose-Men alone , for private Ends , I thought , forsook their ancient Friends . In cor stillavit , crys Lucretius ; If He may be allow'd to teach Us . The self-same Thing soft Ovid says ( A proper Judge in such a Case . ) Horace his Phrase is torret Jecur ; And happy was that curious Speaker . Here Virgil too has plac'd this Passion : What signifies too long Quotation ? In Ode and Epic plain the Case is , That Love holds One of these Two Places . Dick , without Passion or Reflection , I'll strait demolish this Objection . First Poets , all the World agrees , Write half to profit , half to please . Matter and Figure They produce ; For Garnish This , and That for Use ; And , in the Structure of their Feasts , They seek to feed , and please their Guests : But One may balk this good Intent , And take Things otherwise than meant . Thus , if You Dine with my Lord May'r , Roast-Beef , and Ven'son is your Fare ; Thence You proceed to Swan , and Bustard , And persevere in Tart , and Custard : But Tulip-leaves , and Limon-peel Help only to adorn the Meal ; And painted Flags , superb and neat , Proclaim You welcome to the Treat . The Man of Sense his Meat devours ; But only smells the Peel , and Flow'rs : And He must be an idle Dreamer , Who leaves the Pie , and gnaws the Streamer . That Cupid goes with Bow and Arrows , And Venus keeps her Coach and Sparrows , Is all but Emblem , to acquaint One , The Son is sharp , the Mother wanton . Such Images have sometimes shown A Mystic Sense , but oft'ner None . For who conceives , what Bards devise , That Heav'n is plac'd in Celia's Eyes ? Or where's the Sense , direct or moral , That Teeth are Pearl , or Lips are Coral ? Your Horace owns , He various writ , As wild , or sober Maggots bit : And , where too much the Poet ranted , The Sage Philosopher recanted . His grave Epistles may disprove The wanton Odes He made to Love . Lucretius keeps a mighty Pother With Cupid , and his fancy'd Mother : Calls her great Queen of Earth and Air ; Declares , that Winds and Seas obey Her ; And , while Her Honor he rehearses , Implores Her to inspire his Verses . Yet , free from this Poetic Madness ; Next Page , He says in sober Sadness , That She and all her fellow-Gods Sit idling in their high Abodes , Regardless of this World below , Our Health or Hanging , Weal or Woe ; Nor once disturb their Heav'nly Spirits With Scapin's Cheats , or Cæsar's Merits . Nor e'er can Latin Poets prove , Where lies the real Seat of Love . Jecur they burn , and Cor they pierce , As either best supplies their Verse : And , if Folks ask the Reason for't , Say , one was long , and t'other short . Thus , I presume , the British Muse , May take the Freedom Strangers use . In Prose our Property is greater : Why should it then be less in Metre ? If Cupid throws a single Dart ; We make him wound the Lover's Heart : But if He takes his Bow , and Quiver ; 'Tis sure , He must transfix the Liver : For Rhime with Reason may dispense ; And Sound has Right to govern Sense . But let your Friends in Verse suppose , What ne'er shall be allow'd in Prose : Anatomists can make it clear , The Liver minds his own Affair : Kindly supplies our publick Uses ; And parts , and strains the Vital Juices : Still lays some useful Bile aside , To tinge the Chyle's insipid Tide : Else We should want both Gibe and Satyr ; And all be burst with pure Good-nature . Now Gall is bitter with a Witness ; And Love is all Delight and Sweetness . My Logic then has lost it's Aim , If Sweet and Bitter be the same : And He , methinks , is no great Scholar , Who can mistake Desire for Choler . The like may of the Heart be said : Courage and Terror there are bred . All those , whose Hearts are loose and low , Start , if they hear but the Tattoo : And mighty Physical their Fear is : For , soon as Noise of Combat near is , Their Heart , descending to their Breeches , Must give their Stomach cruel twitches . But Heroes who o'ercome or dye , Have their Hearts hung extremely high ; The Strings of which , in Battel's Heat , Against their very Corslets beat ; Keep Time with their own Trumpet's Measure ; And yield 'em most excessive Pleasure . Now if 'tis chiefly in the Heart , That Courage does it self exert ; 'Twill be prodigious hard to prove , That This is eke the Throne of Love . Would Nature make One Place the Seat Of fond Desire , and fell Debate ? Must People only take Delight in Those Hours , when They are tir'd with Fighting ? And has no Man , but who has kill'd A Father , right to get a Child ? These Notions then I think but idle : And Love shall still possess the Middle . This Truth more plainly to discover , Suppose your Hero were a Lover . Tho' He before had Gall and Rage , Which Death , or Conquest must asswage ; He grows dispirited and low : He hates the Fight , and shuns the Foe . In scornful Sloth Achilles slept ; And for his Wench , like Tall-boy , wept : Nor would return to War and Slaughter ; 'Till They brought back the Parson's Daughter . Antonius fled from Actium's Coast , Augustus pressing , Asia lost : His Sails by Cupid's Hand unfurl'd , To keep the Fair , he gave the World . Edward our Fourth , rever'd and crown'd , Vig'rous in Youth , in Arms renown'd ; While England's Voice , and Warwick's Care Design'd him Gallia's beauteous Heir ; Chang'd Peace and Pow'r for Rage and Wars , Only to dry One Widow's Tears . France's fourth Henry we may see , A Servant to the fair d'Estree ; When quitting Coutras prosp'rous Field , And Fortune taught at length to yield , He from his Guards and Mid-night Tent , Disguis'd o'er Hills and Vallies went , To wanton with the sprightly Dame ; And in his Pleasure lost his Fame . Bold is the Critic , who dares prove , These Heroes were no Friends to Love ; And bolder He , who dares aver , That they were Enemies to War . Yet , when their Thought should , now or never , Have rais'd their Heart , or fir'd their Liver ; Fond Alma to those Parts was gone , Which Love more justly calls his own . Examples I could cite You more ; But be contented with these Four : For when One's Proofs are aptly chosen ; Four are as valid as four Dozen . One came from Greece , and one from Rome ; The other Two grew nearer Home . For some in Antient Books delight : Others prefer what Moderns write : Now I should be extremely loath , Not to be thought expert in Both .

THE SECOND CANTO . But shall we take the Muse abroad , To drop her idly on the Road ? And leave our Subject in the middle ; As Butler did his Bear and Fiddle ? Yet He , consummate Master , knew When to recede , and where pursue : His noble Negligences teach , What Others Toils despair to reach . He , perfect Dancer , climbs the Rope , And balances your Fear and Hope : If after some distinguish'd Leap , He drops his Pole , and seems to slip ; Straight gath'ring all his active Strength , He rises higher half his Length . With Wonder You approve his Slight ; And owe your Pleasure to your Fright . But , like poor Andrew , I advance , False Mimic of my Master's Dance : A-round the Cord a while I sprawl ; And thence , tho' low , in earnest fall . My Preface tells You , I digress'd : He's half absolv'd who has confess'd . I like , quoth Dick , your Simile : And in Return , take Two from Me . As Masters in the Clare-obscure , With various Light your Eyes allure : A flaming Yellow here They spread ; Draw off in Blew , or charge in Red : Yet from these Colors odly mix'd , Your Sight upon the Whole is fix'd . Or as , again , your Courtly Dames , ( Whose Cloaths returning Birth-Day claims , ) By Arts improve the Stuffs they vary ; And Things are best , as most contrary . The Gown with stiff Embroid'ry shining , Looks charming with a slighter Lining : The Out- , if Indian Figures stain ; The In-side must be rich and plain . So You , great Authors , have thought fit , To make Digression temper Wit : When Arguments too fiercely glare ; You calm 'em with a milder Air : To break their Points , You turn their Force ; And Furbelow the plain Discourse . Richard , quoth Mat , these Words of Thine , Speak something sly , and something fine : But I shall e'en resume my Theme ; However Thou may'st praise , or blame . As People marry now , and settle ; Fierce Love abates his usual Mettle : Worldly Desires , and Household Cares Disturb the Godhead's soft Affairs : So now , as Health or Temper changes , In larger Compass Alma ranges , This Day below , the next above ; As light , or solid Whimsies move . So Merchant has his House in Town , And Country-Seat near Bansted Down : From One he dates his Foreign Letters , Sends out his Goods , and duns his Debtors : In t'other , at his Hours of Leisure , He smokes his Pipe , and takes his Pleasure . And now your Matrimonial Cupid , Lash'd on by Time , grows tir'd and stupid . For Story and Experience tell Us , That Man grows cold , and Woman jealous . Both would their little Ends secure : He sighs for Freedom , She for Pow'r . His Wishes tend abroad to roam ; And Her's , to domineer at Home . Thus Passion flags by slow Degrees ; And ruffl'd more , delighted less , The busy Mind does seldom go To those once charming Seats below : But , in the Breast incamp'd , prepares For well-bred Feints , and future Wars . The Man suspects his Lady's crying ( When he last Autumn lay a-dying ) Was but to gain him to appoint Her By Codicil a larger Jointure . The Woman finds it all a Trick , That He could swoon , when She was sick ; And knows , that in That Grief he reckon'd On black-ey'd Susan for his Second . Thus having strove some tedious Years With feign'd Desires , and real Fears ; And tir'd with Answers , and Replies , Of John affirms , and Martha lies ; Leaving this endless Altercation , The Mind affects a higher Station . Poltis , that gen'rous King of Thrace , I think , was in this very Case . All Asia now was by the Ears : And Gods beat up for Voluntiers To Greece , and Troy ; while Poltis sat In Quiet , governing his State . And whence , said the Pacific King , Does all this Noise , and Discord spring ? Why , Paris took Atrides' Wife — With Ease I could compose this Strife : The injur'd Hero should not lose , Nor the young Lover want a Spouse : But Helen chang'd her first Condition , Without her Husband's just Permission . What from the Dame can Paris hope ? She may as well from Him elope . Again , how can her old Good-man With Honor take Her back again ? From hence I logically gather , The Woman cannot live with Either . Now I have Two right honest Wives , For whose Possession No Man strives : One to Atrides I will send ; And t'other to my Trojan Friend . Each Prince shall thus with Honor have , What Both so warmly seem to crave : The Wrath of Gods and Man shall cease ; And Poltis live and die in Peace . Dick , if this Story pleaseth Thee , Pray thank Dan Pope , who told it Me . Howe'er swift Alma's Flight may vary ; ( Take this by way of Corollary : ) Some Limbs She finds the very same , In Place , and Dignity , and Name : These dwell at such convenient Distance , That each may give his Friend Assistance . Thus He who runs or dances , begs The equal Vigor of Two Legs : So much to both does Alma trust , She ne'er regards , which goes the first . Teague could make neither of them stay , When with Himself he ran away . The Man who struggles in the Fight , Fatigues left Arm , as well as right : For whilst one Hand exalts the Blow , And on the Earth extends the Foe ; T'other would take it wond'rous ill , If in your Pocket He lay still . And when you shoot , and shut one Eye , You cannot think , He would deny To lend the t'other friendly Aid , Or wink , as Coward , and affraid . No , Sir ; whilst He withdraws his Flame , His Comrade takes the surer Aim . One Moment if his Beams recede ; As soon as e'er the Bird is dead , Opening again , He lays his Claim , To half the Profit , half the Fame , And helps to Pocket up the Game . 'Tis thus , One Tradesman slips away , To give his Part'ner fairer Play . Some Limbs again in Bulk or Stature Unlike , and not a-kin by Nature , In Concert act , like modern Friends ; Because one serves the t'other's Ends . The Arm thus waits upon the Heart , So quick to take the Bully's Part , That one , tho' warm , decides more slow , Than t'other executes the Blow . A Stander-by may chance to have it , E'er Hack himself perceives , He gave it . The am'rous Eyes thus always go A-stroling for their Friends below : For long before the 'Squire and Dame Have tête à tête reliev'd their Flame ; E'er Visits yet are brought about , The Eye by Sympathy looks out ; Knows Florimel , and longs to meet Her ; And , if He sees , is sure to greet Her , Tho' at Sash-Window , on the Stairs , At Court , nay ( Authors say ) at Pray'rs . — The Funeral of some valiant Knight May give this Thing it's proper Light . View his Two Gantlets : these declare , That Both his Hands were us'd to War . And from his Two gilt Spurs 'tis learn'd , His Feet were equally concern'd . But have You not with Thought beheld The Sword hang dangling o'er the Shield ? Which shows the Breast , That Plate was us'd to , Had an Ally right Arm to trust to . And by the Peep-holes in his Crest , Is it not virtually confest , That there his Eye took distant Aim , And glanc'd Respect to that bright Dame , In whose Delight his Hope was center'd , And for whose Glove his Life he ventur'd ? Objections to my general System May 'rise , perhaps , and I have mist them : But I can call to my Assistance Proximity ( mark that ! ) and Distance : Can prove , that all Things , on Occasion , Love Union , and desire Adhesion ; That Alma merely is a Scale ; And Motives , like the Weights , prevail . If neither Side turn down or up , With Loss or Gain , with Fear or Hope ; The Balance always would hang ev'n , Like Mah'met's Tomb , 'twixt Earth and Heav'n . This , Richard , is a curious Case : Suppose your Eyes sent equal Rays Upon two distant Pots of Ale , Not knowing , which was Mild or Stale : In this sad State your doubtful Choice Would never have the casting Voice : Which Best , or Worst , You could not think ; And die You must , for want of Drink : Unless some Chance inclines your Sight , Setting one Pot in fairer Light ; Then You prefer or A , or B , As Lines and Angles best agree : Your Sense resolv'd impells your Will ; She guides your Hand , — So drink your Fill . Have you not seen a Baker's Maid Between two equal Panniers sway'd ? Her Tallies useless lie , and idle , If plac'd exactly in the Middle : But forc'd from this unactive State , By virtue of some casual Weight ; On either Side You hear 'em clatter , And judge of right and left-hand Matter . Now , Richard , this coercive Force , Without your Choice , must take it's Course . Great Kings to Wars are pointed forth , Like loaded Needles to the North . And Thou and I , by Pow'r unseen , Are barely Passive , and suck'd in To Henault's Vaults , or Celia's Chamber , As Straw and Paper are by Amber . If we sit down to play or set ( Suppose at Ombre or Basset ) Let People call us Cheats , or Fools ; Our Cards and We are equal Tools . We sure in vain the Cards condemn : Our selves both cut and shuffl'd them . In vain on Fortune's Aid rely : She only is a Stander-by . Poor Men ! poor Papers ! We and They Do some impulsive Force obey ; And are but play'd with : — Do not play . But Space and Matter we should blame : They palm'd the Trick that lost the Game . Thus to save further Contradiction , Against what You may think but Fiction ; I for Attraction , Dick , declare : Deny it those bold Men that dare . As well your Motion , as your Thought Is all by hidden Impulse wrought : Ev'n saying , that You Think or Walk , How like a Country 'Squire you talk ? Mark then ; — Where Fancy or Desire Collects the Beams of Vital Fire ; Into that Limb fair Alma slides , And there , pro tempore , resides . She dwells in Nicholini's Tongue , When Pyrrhus chants the Heav'nly Song . When Pedro does the Lute command , She guides the cunning Artist's Hand . Thro' Macer's Gullet she runs down , When the vile Glutton dines alone . And void of Modesty and Thought , She follows Bibo's endless Draught . Thro' the soft Sex again She ranges ; As Youth , Caprice , or Fashion changes . Fair Alma careless and serene , In Fanny's sprightly Eyes is seen ; While they diffuse their Infant Beams , Themselves not conscious of their Flames . Again fair Alma sits confest , On Florimel's experter Breast ; When She the rising Sigh constrains , And by concealing speaks her Pains . In Cynthia's Neck fair Alma glows ; When the vain Thing her Jewels shows : When Jenny's Stays are newly lac'd , Fair Alma plays about her Waste ; And when the swelling Hoop sustains The rich Brocard , fair Alma deigns Into that lower Space to enter , Of the large Round , Her self the Center . Again : That Single Limb or Feature ( Such is the cogent Force of Nature ) Which most did Alma's Passion move , In the first Object of her Love , For ever will be found confest , And printed on the am'rous Breast . O Abelard , ill-fated Youth , Thy Tale will justify this Truth : But well I weet , thy cruel Wrong Adorns a nobler Poet's Song . Dan Pope for thy Misfortune griev'd , With kind Concern , and Skill has weav'd A silken Web ; and ne'er shall fade It's Colors : gently has He laid The Mantle o'er thy sad Distress : And Venus shall the Texture bless . He o'er the weeping Nun has drawn , Such artful Folds of Sacred Lawn , That Love with equal Grief and Pride , Shall see the Crime , He strives to hide : And softly drawing back the Veil , The God shall to his Vot'ries tell Each conscious Tear , each blushing Grace , That deck'd Dear Eloisa's Face . Happy the Poet , blest the Lays , Which Buckingham has deign'd to praise . Next , Dick , as Youth and Habit sways , A hundred Gambols Alma plays . If , whilst a Boy , Jack run from Schole , Fond of his Hunting-horn , and Pole ; Tho' Gout and Age his Speed detain , Old John halloo's his Hounds again . By his Fire-side he starts the Hare ; And turns Her in his Wicker-Chair : His Feet , however lame , You find , Have got the better of his Mind . If while the Mind was in her Leg , The Dance affected nimble Peg ; Old Madge , bewitch'd at Sixty one , Calls for Green Sleeves , and Jumping Joan . In public Mask , or private Ball , From Lincoln's Inn , to Goldsmith's Hall , All Christmas long away She trudges ; Trips it with Prentices and Judges : In vain her Children urge her Stay ; And Age or Palsey bar the Way . But if those Images prevail , Which whilom did affect the Tail ; She still reviews the ancient Scene ; Forgets the forty Years between : Awkwardly gay , and odly merry , Her Scarf pale Pink , her Head-Knot Cherry ; O'er heated with Ideal Rage , She cheats her Son , to wed her Page . If Alma , whilst the Man was young , Slip'd up too soon into his Tongue : Pleas'd with his own fantastic Skill , He lets that Weapon ne'er lie still . On any Point if You dispute ; Depend upon it , He'll confute : Change Sides ; and You increase your Pain : For He'll confute You back again . For One may speak with Tully's Tongue ; Yet all the while be in the wrong . And 'tis remarkable , that They Talk most , who have the least to say . Your dainty Speakers have the Curse , To plead bad Causes down to worse : As Dames , who Native Beauty want , Still uglier look , the more They paint . Again : If in the Female Sex Alma should on this Member fix ; ( A cruel and a desp'rate Case , From which Heav'n shield my lovely Lass ! ) For evermore all Care is vain , That would bring Alma down again . As in habitual Gout , or Stone , The only Thing that can be done , Is to correct your Drink and Diet , And keep the inward Foe in Quiet : So , if for any Sins of Our's , Or our Forefathers , Higher Pow'rs , Severe tho' just , afflict our Life With that Prime Ill , a talking Wife ; 'Till Death shall bring the kind Relief , We must be Patient , or be Deaf . You know , a certain Lady , Dick , Who saw Me , when I last was sick : She kindly talk'd , at least three Hours , Of Plastic Forms , and Mental Pow'rs : Describ'd our pre-existing Station , Before this vile Terrene Creation : And lest I should be weary'd , Madam , To cut Things short , came down to Adam ; From whence , as fast as She was able , She drowns the World , and builds up Babel ; Thro' Syria , Persia , Greece She goes ; And takes the Romans in the Close . But We'll descant on gen'ral Nature : This is a System , not a Satyr . Turn We this Globe ; and let Us see , How diff'rent Nations disagree , In what We wear , or eat and drink ; Nay , Dick , perhaps in what We think . In Water as You smell and tast The Soyls , thro' which it rose and past : In Alma's Manners You may read The Place , where She was born and bred . One People from their swadling Bands Releas'd their Infants Feet and Hands : Here Alma to these Limbs was brought ; And Sparta's Offspring kick'd and fought . Another taught their Babes to talk , E'er they could yet in Goe-carts walk : There Alma settl'd in the Tongue ; And Orators from Athens sprung . Observe but in these Neighb'ring Lands , The diff'rent Use of Mouths and Hands : As Men repos'd their various Hopes , In Battles These , and Those in Tropes . In Britain's Isles , as Heylyn notes , The Ladies trip in Petticoats ; Which , for the Honor of their Nation , They quit but on some great Occasion . Men there in Breeches clad You view : They claim that Garment , as their due . In Turkey the Reverse appears ; Long Coats the haughty Husband wears , And greets His Wife with angry Speeches ; If She be seen without her Breeches . In our Fantastic Climes the Fair With cleanly Powder dry their Hair : And round their lovely Breast and Head Fresh Flow'rs their mingl'd Odors shed . Your nicer Hottentotes think meet With Guts and Tripe to deck their Feet : With down-cast Looks on Totta's Legs , The ogling Youth most humbly begs , She would not from his Hopes remove At once his Breakfast , and his Love : And if the skittish Nymph should fly ; He in a double Sense must die . We simple Toasters take Delight To see our Women's Teeth look white . And ev'ry saucy ill-bred Fellow Sneers at a Mouth profoundly yellow . In China none hold Women sweet , Except their Snags are black as Jett . King Chihu put Nine Queens to Death , Convict on Statute , Iv'ry Teeth . At Tonquin if a Prince should die ; ( As Jesuits write , who never lye ) The Wife , and Counsellor , and Priest , Who serv'd Him most , and lov'd Him best ; Prepare , and light his Fun'ral Fire , And chearful on the Pile expire . In Europe 'twould be hard to find In each Degree One half so kind . Now turn We to the farthest East , And there observe the Gentry Drest . Prince Giolo , and his Royal Sisters , Scarr'd with ten thousand comely Blisters ; The Marks remaining on the Skin , To tell the Quality within . Distinguish'd Slashes deck the Great : As each excells in Birth , or State ; His Oylet-holes are more , and ampler : The King's own Body was a Samplar . Happy the Climate , where the Beau Wears the same Suit for Use , and Show : And at a small Expence your Wife , If once well pink'd , is cloth'd for Life . Westward again the Indian Fair , Is nicely smear'd with Fat of Bear . Before You see , You smell your Toast , And sweetest She , who stinks the most . The finest Sparks , and cleanest Beaux Drip from the Shoulders to the Toes . How sleek their Skins ! their Joints how easy ! There Slovens only are not greasy . I mention'd diff'rent Ways of Breeding : Begin We in our Children's Reading . To Master John the English Maid A Horn-book gives of Ginger-bread : And that the Child may learn the better , As He can name , He eats the Letter : Proceeding thus with vast Delight , He spells , and gnaws , from Left to Right . But shew a Hebrew's hopeful Son , Where We suppose the Book begun ; The Child would thank You for your Kindness , And read quite backward from our Finis : Devour He Learning ne'er so fast ; Great A would be reserv'd the last . An equal Instance of this Matter , Is in the Manners of a Daughter . In Europe , if a harmless Maid , By Nature and by Love betray'd , Should e'er 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 come 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 , Lest her dear Daughter should be slighted : And poor Miss Yaya dreads the Shame Of going back the Maid She came . Observe how Custom , Dick , compells 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 amongst the Men : Pleas'd with her Punch , the Gallant Soul First drank , then water'd in the Bowl ; And sprinkl'd 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 rising 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 Westward curious take Thy Way . Thy Way unhappy should'st Thou take From Tiber's Bank to Leman-Lake ; Thou art an Aged Priest no more , But a Young flaring Painted Whore : Thy Sex is lost : 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 , insist 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 Side a River . Here with an artful Smile , quoth Dick , Your Proofs come mighty full , and thick — The Bard on this extensive Chapter , Wound up into Poetic Rapture , Continu'd : Richard , cast your Eye By Night upon a Winter-Sky : Cast it by Day-light on the Strand , Which compasses fair Albion's Land : If You can count the Stars that glow Above , or Sands that lie below ; Into those 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 standing every Critic's Rage , I safely will to future Age My System , as a Gift , bequeath , Victorious over Spight , and Death .

THE THIRD CANTO . Richard , who now was half a-sleep , Rous'd ; nor would longer Silence keep : And Sense like this , in vocal Breath Broke from his twofold 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 ; Then prove what they have once asserted , Nor care to have their Lie deserted ; 'Till their own Dreams at length deceive 'em ; And oft repeating , they believe 'em . Or as again those am'rous Blades , Who trifle with their Mother's Maids ; Tho' at the first their wild Desire , 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 Cake-bread's Feature ; With serious Thought and Care support , What only was begun in Sport . Just so with You , my Friend , it fares , Who deal in Philosophic Wares : Atoms You cut ; and Forms You measure , To gratifie your private Pleasure ; 'Till airy Seeds of casual Wit Do some 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 delusive Art , You fancy first , and then assert . 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 list'ning Scholars stand , 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 Musick 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 destroy'd . Deny Des-cart His subtil Matter ; You leave Him neither Fire , nor Water . How odly would Sir Isaac look , If You , in Answer to his Book , Say in the Front of your Discourse , That Things have no Elastic Force ? How could our Chymic Friends go on , To find the Philosophic Stone ; If You more pow'rful Reasons bring , To prove , that there is no such Thing ? Your Chiefs in Sciences and Arts , Have great Contempt of Alma's Parts . They find , She giddy is , or dull ; She doubts , if Things are void , or full : And who should be presum'd to tell , What She Her self should see , or feel ? She doubts , if two and two make four ; Tho' She has told them ten times o'er . It can't — it may be — and it must : To which of these must Alma trust ? Nay , further yet They make Her go , In doubting , if She doubts , or no . Can Syllogysm set Things right ? No : Majors soon with Minors fight : Or , Both in friendly Consort join'd ; The Consequence limps false behind . So to some Cunning-Man She goes , And asks of Him , how much She knows . With Patience grave He hears Her speak ; And from his short Notes , gives Her back What from her Tale He comprehended : Thus the Dispute is wisely ended . From the Account the Loser brings , The Conj'ror knows , who stole the Things . 'squire ( interrupted Dick ) since when Were You amongst these Cunning-Men ? Dear Dick , quoth Mat , let not Thy Force Of Eloquence spoil my Discourse . I tell Thee , this is Alma's Case , Still asking , what some Wise-man says , Who does his Mind in Words reveal , Which All must grant ; tho' Few can spell . You tell Your Doctor , that Y'are ill : And what does He , but write a Bill , Of which You need not read one Letter ? The worse the Scrawl , the Dose the better . For if You knew but what You take ; Tho' You recover , He must break . Ideas , Forms , and Intellects , Have furnish'd out three diff'rent Sects . Substance , or Accident divides All Europe into adverse Sides . Now , as engag'd in Arms or Laws , You must have Friends to back your Cause : In Philosophic Matters so Your Judgment must with others go . For as in Senates , so in Scholes , Majority of Voices rules . Poor Alma , like a lonely Deer , O'er Hills and Dales does doubtful err : With panting Haste , and quick Surprise , From ev'ry Leaf that stirs , She flies ; 'Till mingl'd with the neighb'ring Herd , She slights what erst She singly fear'd : And now , exempt from Doubt and Dread , She dares pursue ; if They dare lead : As Their Example still prevails ; She tempts the Stream , or leaps the Pales . He then , quoth Dick , who by Your Rule Thinks for Himself , becomes a Fool . As Party-Man who leaves the rest , Is call'd but Whimsical at Best . Now , by Your Favour , Master Mat , Like Ralpho , here I smell a Rat . I must be listed in Your Sect ; Who , tho' They teach not , can protect . Right , Richard , MAT . in Triumph cri'd ; So put off all Mistrust and Pride . And while My Principles I beg ; Pray answer only with Your Leg . Believe what friendly I advise : Be first secure ; and then be wise . The Man within the Coach that sits , And to another's Skill submits , Is safer much ( whate'er arrives ) And warmer too , than He that drives . So , Dick Adept , tuck back Thy Hair ; And I will pour into Thy Ear Remarks , which None did e'er disclose , In smooth-pac'd Verse , or hobling Prose . Attend , Dear Dick ; but don't reply : And Thou may'st prove as Wise as I . When Alma now in diff'rent Ages , Has finish'd Her ascending Stages ; Into the Head at length She gets , And There in Public Grandeur sits , To judge of Things , and censure Wits . Here , Richard , how could I explain , The various Lab'rinths of the Brain ? Surprise My Readers , whilst I tell 'em Of Cerebrum , and Cerebellum ? How could I play the Commentator On Dura , and on Pia Mater ? Where Hot and Cold , and Dry and Wet , Strive each the t'other's Place to get ; And with incessant Toil and Strife , Would keep Possession during Life . I could demonstrate every Pore , Where Mem'ry lays up all her Store ; And to an Inch compute the Station , 'Twixt Judgment , and Imagination . O Friend ! I could display much Learning , At least to Men of small Discerning . The Brain contains ten thousand Cells : In each some active Fancy dwells ; Which always is at Work , and framing The several Follies I was naming . As in a Hive's vimineous Dome , Ten thousand Bees enjoy their Home ; Each does her studious Action vary , To go and come , to fetch and carry : Each still renews her little Labor ; Nor justles her assiduous Neighbour : Each — whilst this Thesis I maintain ; I fancy , Dick , I know thy Brain . O with the mighty Theme affected , Could I but see thy Head dissected ! My Head , quoth Dick , to serve your Whim ? Spare That , and take some other Limb . Sir , in your nice Affairs of System , Wise Men propose ; but Fools assist 'em . Says Matthew : Richard , keep thy Head , And hold thy Peace ; and I'll proceed . Proceed ? quoth Dick : Sir , I aver , You have already gone too far . When People once are in the Wrong ; Each Line they add , is much too long . Who fastest walks , but walks astray , Is only furthest from his Way . Bless your Conceits ! must I believe , Howe'er absurd , what You conceive ; And , for your Friendship , live and dye A Papist in Philosophy ? I say , whatever You maintain Of Alma in the Heart , or Brain ; The plainest Man alive may tell Ye , Her Seat of Empire is the Belly : From hence She sends out those Supplies , Which make Us either stout , or wise : The Strength of ev'ry other Member , Is founded on your Belly-Timber : The Qualms or Raptures of your Blood Rise in Proportion to your Food : And if you would improve your Thought ; You must be fed , as well as taught . Your Stomach makes your Fabric roll ; Just as the Biass rules the Bowl . That great Achilles might imploy The Strength , design'd to ruin Troy ; He Din'd on Lion's Marrow , spread On Toasts of Ammunition-Bread : But by His Mother sent away , Amongst the Thracian Girls to play , Effeminate He sat , and quiet : Strange Product of a Cheese-cake Diet ! Now give my Argument fair Play ; And take the Thing the t'other Way : The Youngster , who at Nine and Three Drinks with his Sisters Milk and Tea , From Break-fast reads , 'till twelve a Clock , Burnet and Heylyn , Hobbes and Lock : He pays due Visits after Noon To Cousin Alice , and Uncle John : At Ten from Coffee-House or Play Returning , finishes the Day . But give him Port , and potent Sack ; From Milk-sop He starts up Moback : Holds that the Happy know no Hours ; So thro' the Street at Midnight scow'rs : Breaks Watch-men's Heads , and Chair-men's Glasses ; And thence proceeds to nicking Sashes : Till by some tougher Hand o'ercome , And first knock'd down , and then led Home ; He damns the Foot-man , strikes the Maid , And decently reels up to Bed . Observe the various Operations Of Food , and Drink in several Nations . Was ever Tartar fierce or cruel , Upon the Strength of Water-Gruel ? But who shall stand His Rage and Force ; If first he rides , then eats his Horse ? Sallads , and Eggs , and lighter Fare Tune the Italian Spark's Guitar . And , if I take Dan Congreve right ; Pudding and Beef make Britons fight . Tokay and Coffee cause this Work , Between the German and the Turk : And Both , as They Provisions want , Chicane , avoid , retire , and faint . Hunger and Thirst , or Guns and Swords , Give the same Death in diff'rent Words . To push this Argument no further ; To starve a Man , in Law , is Murther . As in a Watche's fine Machine , Tho' many artful Springs are seen ; The added Movements , which declare , How full the Moon , how old the Year , Derive their secondary Pow'r From that , which simply points the Hour . For , tho' these Gim-cracks were away ; ( Quare would not swear ; but Quare would say ) However more reduc'd and plain , The Watch would still a Watch remain : But if the Horal Orbite ceases ; The whole stands still , or breaks to pieces ; Is now no longer what it was ; And You may e'en go sell the Case . So if unprejudic'd you scan The Goings of this Clock-work , Man ; You find a hundred Movements made By fine Devices in his Head : But 'tis the Stomach's solid Stroke , That tells his Being , what's a Clock . If You take off his Rhet'ric-Trigger ; He talks no more in Mood and Figure : Or clog his Mathematic-Wheel ; His Buildings fall ; his Ship stands still . Or lastly , break his Politic-Weight ; His Voice no longer rules the State . Yet if these finer Whims were gone ; Your Clock , tho' plain , would still go on : But spoil the Engine of Digestion ; And You entirely change the Question . Alma's Affairs no Pow'r can mend ; The Jest , alas ! is at an End : Soon ceases all this worldly Bustle ; And you consign the Corps to Russel . Now make your Alma come or go , From Leg to Hand , from Top to Toe ; Your System , without My Addition , Is in a very sad Condition . So Harlequin extoll'd his Horse , Fit for the War , or Road , or Course ; His Mouth was soft ; his Eye was good ; His Foot was sure as ever trod : One Fault he had , a Fault indeed ; And what was that ? The Horse was Dead . Dick , from these Instances and Fetches , Thou mak'st of Horses , Clocks , and Watches , Quoth Mat , to Me thou seem'st to mean , That Alma is a mere Machine ; That telling others what's a Clock , She knows not what Her self has struck ; But leaves to Standers-by the Tryal , Of what is mark'd upon her Dial . Here hold a Blow , good Friend , quoth Dick , And rais'd his Voice exceeding quick : Fight fair , Sir : what I never meant Don't You infer . In Argument , Similies are like Songs in Love : They much describe ; they nothing prove . Mat , who was here a little gravel'd , Tost up his Nose , and would have cavil'd : But calling Hermes to his Aid , Half pleas'd , half angry , thus He said : Where mind ( 'tis for the Author's Fame ) That Matthew call'd , and Hermes came . In Danger Heroes , and in Doubt Poets find Gods to help 'em out . Friend Richard , I begin to see , That You and I shall scarce agree . Observe how odly you behave : The more I grant , the more You crave . But , Comrade , as I said just now , I should affirm , and You allow . We System-makers can sustain The Thesis , which , You grant , was plain ; And with Remarks and Comments teaze Ye ; In case the Thing before was easy . But in a Point obscure and dark , We fight as Leibnits did with Clark ; And when no Reason we can show , Why Matters This or That Way go ; The shortest Way the Thing We try , And what We know not , We deny : True to our own o'erbearing Pride , And false to all the World beside . That old Philosopher grew cross , Who could not tell what Motion was : Because He walk'd against his Will ; He fac'd Men down , that He stood still . And He who reading on the Heart , ( When all his Quodlibets of Art Could not expound it's Pulse and Heat ) Swore , He had never felt it beat . Chrysippus , foil'd by Epicurus , Makes bold ( Jove bless Him ! ) to assure Us , That all things , which our Mind can view , May be at once both false , and true . And Malbranch has an odd Conceit , As ever enter'd Frenchman's Pate : Says He , so little can our Mind Of Matter , or of Spirit find , That We by Guess , at least , may gather Something , which may be Both , or Neither . Faith , Dick , I must confess , 'tis true ( But this is only Entre Nous ) That many knotty Points there are , Which All discuss , but Few can clear : As Nature slily had thought fit , For some by-Ends , to cross-bite Wit . Circles to square , and Cubes to double , Would give a Man excessive Trouble : The Longitude uncertain roams , In spight of Wh—n and his Bombs . What System , Dick , has right averr'd The Cause , why Woman has no Beard ; Or why , as Years our Frame attack , Our Hair grows white , our Teeth grow black ? In Points like These We must agree , Our Barber knows as much as We . Yet still unable to explain , We must persist the best We can ; With Care our Systems still renew , And prove Things likely , tho' not true . I could , Thou see'st , in quaint Dispute , By dint of Logic strike Thee mute ; With learned Skill , now push , now parry , From Darii to Bocardo vary , And never yield , or what is worst , Never conclude the Point discours'd . Yet , that You hic & nunc may know , How much You to my Candor owe ; I'll from the Disputant descend , To show Thee , I assume the Friend : I'll take Thy Notion for my own — ( So most Philosophers have done ) It makes my System more complete : Dick , can it have a Nobler Fate ? Take what Thou wilt , said Dick , Dear Friend ; But bring thy Matters to an End . I find , quoth Mat , Reproof is vain : Who first offend will first complain . Thou wishest , I should make to Shoar ; Yet still put'st in Thy thwarting Oar . What I have told Thee fifty times In Prose , receive for once in Rhimes : A huge fat Man in Countrey-Fair , Or City-Church , ( no matter where ) Labor'd and push'd amidst the Croud , Still bauling out extremely loud ; Lord save Us ! why do People press ? Another marking his Distress , Friendly reply'd ; Plump Gentleman , Get out as fast as e'er You can : Or cease to push , or to exclaim : You make the very Croud You blame . Says Dick , your Moral does not need The least Return ; So e'en proceed : Your Tale , howe'er apply'd , was short : So far , at least , I thank You for't . MAT . took his Thanks , and in a Tone More Magisterial , thus went on . Now Alma settles in the Head ; As has before been sung , or said : And here begins this Farce of Life ; Enter Revenge , Ambition , Strife : Behold on both Sides Men advance , To form in Earnest Bays's Dance . L'Avare not using Half his Store , Still grumbles , that He has no more ; Strikes not the present Tun , for fear The Vintage should be bad next Year : And eats To-day with inward Sorrow , And Dread of fancy'd Want To-morrow . Abroad if the Sour-tout You wear , Repells the Rigor of the Air ; Would You be warmer , if at Home You had the Fabric , and the Loom ? And if two Boots keep out the Weather ; What need You have two Hides of Leather ? Could Pedro , think You , make no Tryal Of a Sonata on his Viol , Unless he had the total Gut , Whence every String at first was cut ? When Rarus shows You his Carton ; He always tells You , with a Groan , Where two of that same Hand were torn , Long before You , or He were born . Poor Vento's Mind so much is crost , For Part of His Petronius lost ; That He can never take the Pains To understand what yet remains . What Toil did honest Curio take ? What strict Enquiries did He make , To get one Medal wanting yet , And perfect all his Roman Sett ? 'Tis found : and O his happy Lot ! 'Tis bought , lock'd up , and lies forgot : Of These no more You hear Him speak : He