Atoms you cut, and forms you measure,
To gray your private pleasure,
Till airy feeds of cafual wit
Do fome fantastic birth beget;
And plead to find your fyftem 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 firft, and then affert.
Quoth Matthew: Friend, as far as I
Through art or nature caft my eye,
This axiom clearly I difcern,
That one muft teach, and t'other learn.
No fool Pythagoras was thought;
Whilft he his weighty doctrines taught,,
He made his listening scholars ftand,
Their mouth till 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 mufc of the spheres;
Deny'd all tranfmigrating fcenes,
And introduc'd the use of beans.
From great Lucretius take his void,
And all the world is quite deftroy'd.
Deny Des-cart his fubtil matter,
You leave him neither fire nor water.
How oddly would Sir Ifaac look,
If you, in anfwer to his book,
Say in the front of your
difcourfe,
Who does his mind in words reveal, Which all must grant, though 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 worfe the fcrawl, the dofe the better. 35 For if you knew but what you take, Though you recover, he must break. Ideas, forms, and intellects, Have furnish'd out three different fects. Subftance, or accident, divides
40 All Europe into adverfe fides.
Now, as, engag'd in arms or laws,
You must have friends to back your cause ;
In philofophic matters fo
Your judgment muft with other's go :
45 For as in fenates, fo in fchools, Majority of voices rules.
Poor Alma, like a lonely deer, O'er hill and dales does doubtful err; With panting hafte, and quick furprise, 50 From every leaf that stirs, fhe flies; Till, mingled with the neighbouring herd, She flights what erft fhe fingly fear'd; And now, exempt from doubt and dread, She dares purfue, if they dare lead; As their example ftill prevails, She tempts the ftream, or leaps the pales.
He then, quoth Dick, who by your rule Thinks for himself, becomes a fool:
As party man, who leaves the reft,
That things have no elaftic force! How could our chemic friends go on,
Is call'd but whimfical at beft.
To find the philiphic stone,
Now, by your favour, matter Mat, Dike Ralpho, here I fmell a rat.
If you more powerful reafons bring,
To prove that there is no fuch thing?
Your chiefs in fciences and arts
Have great contempt of Alma's parts.
They find the giddy is, or dull;
She doubts if things are void, or full:
And who fhould be prefum'd to tell
What the herfelf fhould fee, or feel?
She doubts if two and two make four,
Though he has told them ten times o'er.
It can't-it may be-and it muft:
To which of thefe muft Alma trust?
Nay further yet they make her go
In doubting, if the doubts, or no.
Can fyllogifm fet things right?
No: majors foon with miners fght;
Or, both in friendly confort join'd.
The confequence limps falfe behind.
So to fome cunning man fhe goes,
And alks of him, how much the knows.
With patience grave he hears her fpeak,
And from his thort notes gives her back
What from her tale he comprehended:
Thus the difpute is wifely ended.
From the account the lofer brings,
The Conjuror knows who ftole the things.
'Squire (interrupted Dick) fince when
Were you amongst thefe cunning men?
Dear Dick, queth Mat, let not thy force
Of cloquence fpoil my difcourfe.
I tell thee, this is Alma's cafe,
Still aking what fome wife man fays,
I must be lifted in your fect,
65 Right, Richard, Mat in triumph cry'd :
So put off all mistrust and pride.
And, while my principles I beg,
Pray answer only with your leg.
Believe what friendly I advife:
Be first fecure, and then be wife.
The man within the coach that fits,
And to another's fkill fubmits,
Is fafer 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 difclofe
In fmooth-pac'd verse, or hobbling prose.
Attend, dear Dick; but don't reply:
Where hot and cold, and dry and wet,
Strive each the other's place to get;
And, with inceffant toil and ftrife,
Would keep poffeffion during life,
I could demonftrate every pore,
Where memory lays up all her store;
And to an inch compute the station
'Twixt judgment and imagination.
O friend! I could difplay much learning,
At least to men of fmall difcerning.
The brain contains ten thousand cells:
In each some active fancy dwells;
Which always is at work, and framing
The feveral follies I was naming,
As in a hive's vimineous dome
Ten thousand bees enjoy their home,
Each does her ftudious actions vary,
To go and come, to fetch and carry;
Fach ftill renews her little labour,
Nor juftles her affiduous neighbour:
Each whilft this thefts I maintain,
I fancy, Dick, I know thy brain.
O, with the mighty theme affected,
Could I but fee thy head diffected!
From breakfast reads till twelve o'clock, Burnet and Heylin, Hobbes and Locke 160 He pays due visits after noon
To coufin Alice and uncle John;
At ten from coffee-house or play
Returning, finishes the day.
But, give him port and potent fack,
165 From milkfop he starts up Moback;
My head! quoth Dick, to ferve your whim!
Spare that, and take fome other limb.
Sir, in your nice affairs of fyftem,
Wife men propofe; but fools affift '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 fafteft walks, but walks aftray,
Is only furtheft from his way.
Blefs your conceits! muft I believe,
Howe'er abfurd, what you conceive;
And, for your friendship, live and die
A papist in philosophy ?
I fay, whatever you maintain
Of Alma in the heart or brain,
The plainest man alive may tell
Her feat of empire is the belly:
From hence the fends out thofe fupplies,
Which makes us either ftout or wife;
The ftrength of every other member
Holds that the happy know no hours;
So through the street at midnight fcowers,
Breaks watchmen's heads and chairmen's glaffes,
And thence proceeds to nicking fathes;
Till, by fome tougher hand o'ercome,
And first knock'd down, and then led home,
He damns the footman, ftrikes the maid,
And decently reels up to bed.
Obferve the various operations
Of food and drink in feveral nations.
Was ever Tartar fierce or crue!
Upon the ftrength of water-gruel?
But who shall stand his rage and force,
If firft he rides, then eats his horse?
Sallads, and eggs, and lighter fare,
Tune the Italian fpark's guitar.
And, if I take Dan Congreve right,
Pudding and beef make Britons fight.
Tokay and coffee cause this work
135 Between German and the Turk;
And both, as they provifions want,
Chicane, avoid, retire and faint.
Hunger and thirft, or guns and fwords, Give the fame death in different words.
To push this argument no further;
To farve a man, in law is murther,
As in a watch's fine machine,
Though many artful springs are feen;
The added movements, which declare
195 How full the moon, how old the year,
Derive their fecondary power
From that which fimply points the hour.
For, though thofe gim-cracks were away,
(Quare would not fwear, but Quare would fay) However more reduc'd and plain,
The watch would ftill a watch remain :
Is founded on your belly-timber;
And you may e'en go fell the cafe.
The qualms or raptures of your blood Rife in proportion to your food;
So, if unprejudic'd you scan
The goings of this clock-work man,
And, if you would improve your thought, You must be fed as well as taught.
You find a hundred movements made
Your ftomach makes your fabrick roll,
Just as the bias rules the bowl.
The great Achilles might employ
The ftrength defign'd to ruin Troy;
He din'd on lion's marrow, fpread
On toafts of ammunition bread:
But by his mother fent away,
Amongst the Thracian girls to play,
Effeminate he fat, and quiet:
Strange product of a cheese-cake diet!
Now give my argument fair play,
And take the thing the other way:
The youngfter, who at nine and three
Drinks with his fifters milk and tea,
But 'tis the ftomach's folid stroke
That tells his being what's o'clock.
If you take of this rhetorick trigger,
He talks no more in mode and figure;
Or, clog his mathematic-wheel,
His buildings fall, his fhip ftands still;
Or, laftly, break his politic-weight,
His voice no longer rules the state.
Yet, if thefe finer whims are gone,
Soon ceafes all the worldly buftle
And you confign the corpfe to Ruffel.
Now make your Alma come or go
From leg to hand, from top to toe,
Your hem, without my addition,
Is in a very fad condition.
So Harlequin extoll'd his horse,
Fit for the war, or road, or courfe;
His mouth was foft, his eye was good,
His foot was fure as ever trod :
One fault he had (a fault indeed!);
And what was that? the horse was dead.
Dick, from thefe inftances and fetches,
Thou mak'st of horfes, clocks, and watches,
Quoth Mat, to me thou feem'ft to mean,
That Alma is a mere machine:
That, telling others what's o'clock,
She knows not what herself has struck;
But leaves to standers-by the trial
Of what is mark'd upon her dial.
290 Says he, fo little can our mind
Of matter or of spirit find,
That we by guefs at leaft may gather
Something, which may be both, or neither.
Faith, Dick, I muft confefs, 'tis true
295 (But this is only entre nous),
That many knotty points there are,
Which all difcufs, but few can clear;
As nature flily had thought fit,
For fome by-ends, to cross-bite wit:
300 Circles to fquare, and cubes to double,
Would give a man exceffive trouble;
The longitude uncertain roams,
In fpite of Whifton and his bombs.
What fyftem, Dick, has right averr'd
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 fongs in love;
They must describe; they nothing prove.
Mat, who was here a little gravell❜d,
Toft up his nofe, and would have cavill'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 them out,)
Friend Richard, I begin to fee,
That you and I fhall fcarce agree.
Obferve how oddly you behave :
The more I grant, the more you crave.
But, comrade, as I faid juft now,
I fhould affirm, and you allow.
We lyftem-makers can fuftain
The thes, which you grant was plain;
And with remarks and comments teaze ye,
In cafe the thing before was eafy.
But, in a point obfcure and dark,
We fight as Leibnitz did with Clarke;
And, when no reason we can fhew,
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 falfe to all the world befide.
That old philofopher 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 its pulfe and heat),
Swore he had never felt it beat.
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And never yield; or, what is worst,
Never conclude the point difcours'd.
305 The caufe why woman has no beard?
Or why, as years our frame attack,
Our hairs grow white, our teeth grow black?
In points like thefe we must agree,
Our barbers know as much as we.
Yet ftill, unable to explain,
320 Yet, that you bic & nunc may know
How much you to my candour owe,
P'il from the difputant defcend,
To fhew thee, I affume the friend:
I'll take thy notion for my own-
325 (So moft philofophers have done)
It makes my fyftem more complete:
Dick, can it have a nobler fate?
Says Dick, your moral does not need
The leaft return; fo e'en proceed :
Your tale, howe'er apply'd, was short:
So far, at leaft, I thank you for't.
Mat took his thanks; and, in a tone
More magifterial, thus went on.
Now, Alma fettles in the head,
As has before been fung, or faid:
And here begins this farce of life;
355 Enter revenge, ambition, ftrife;
Behold on both des men advance,
To form in earnest Bays's dance.
L'Avare, not ufing half his ftore,
Still grumbles that he has no more;
Strikes not the prefent tun, for fear
The vintage fhould be bad next year;
And eats to-day with inward forrow,
And dread of fanci'd want to-morrow.
Abroad if the furtout you wear
Repels the rigour of the air;
Would you be warmer, i 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 trial
Of a fenata on his viol,
Unjefs he had the total gut
Whence every ftring at first was cut,?
When Rarus fhews you his cartone,
le always tells you, with a groan,
Where two of that fame hand were torn
long before you or he were born.
Poor Vento's mind fo much is croft,
For part of his Petronius doft,
hat he can never take the pains
To understand what yet remains.
What toil did honeft Curio take,
What ftrict inquiries did he make,
To get one medal wanting yet,
And perfect all his Roman fet!
Dick, thus we act; and thus we are,
Or to s'd by hope, or funk by care.
With endless pain this man pursues
What, if he gain'd, he could not use:
And t' other fondly hopes to fee
What never was, nor e'er fhall be.
We err by ufe, go wrong by rules,
In gefture grave, in action fools:
We join hypocrify to pride,
Doubling the faults we firive to hide.
Or grant that, with extreme furprife,
We find ourfelves at fixty wife,
And twenty pretty things are known,
Of which we can't accomplish one;
Whilft, as my fyftem says, the mind
Is to thefe upper rooms confin'd.
Should I, my friend, at large repeat
Saw nought to caufe their mirth or weeping:
So Alma, now to joy or grief
Superior, finds her late relief:
Thefe, rang'd and fhew'd, fhall in their turns
Remain obfcure as in their urns."
My copper-lamps at any rate,
For being true antique, I bought;
J'et wifely melted down my plate,
On modern models to be wrought:
And trifes alive purfue,
Because they're old, because they're new.
Dick, I have feen you with delight
For Georgy make a paper kite.
And fimple odes too many few ye
My fervile complaifance to Chloe.
Parents and lovers are decreed
-By Nature fool-That's brave indeed!
Quoth Dick: fuch truths are worth receiving,
Yet ftill Dick look'd as not believing.
Now, Alma, to divines and profe
I leave thy frauds, and crimes, and woes;
Nor think to-night of thy ill-nature,
But of thy follies, idle creature!
She turns of thy uncertain wing,
And not the malice of thy fting:
Thy pride of being great and wife
I do but mention, to defpife;
J view with anger and difdain
How little gives thee joy or pain;
A print, a bronze, a flower, a root,
A fhell, a butterfly can do't;
Ev'n a romance, a tune, a rhyme,
Help thee to pass the tedious time,
Weary'd of being high or great,
And nodding in her chair of state;
450 Stunn'd and worn out with endless chat
Of Will did this, and Nan faid that :
She finds, poor thing, fome little crack,
Which Nature, forc'd by Time, must make,
Through which the wings her defin'd way;
465 Upward fhe foars, and down drops clay :
While fome furviving friend fupplies
Hii jacet, and and a hundred lies.
O Richard, till that day appears,
Which muft decide our hopes and fears,
470 Would Fortune calm her prefent rage,
And give us play-things for our age
Would Clotho wash her hands in milk,
And twist our thread with gold and filk:
Would fhe, in friendft ip, peace and plenty,
475 Spin out our years to four times twentys
And fhould we both in this condition
Have conquer'd Love, and werfe Ambition
(Elfe thofe two paffions, by the way,
May chance to fhew us feurvy play) ;
480 Then, Richard, then fhould we fit down,
Far from the tumult of this town;
I fond of my well-chofen feat,
My pictures, medals, books complete.
Or, fhould we mix our friendly talk,
485 O'erfaded in that favourite walk,
Which thy own hand had whilom planted, 550
Both pleas'd with all we thought we wanted:
Yet then, ev'n than one crois reflection
Would spoil thy grove, and my collection:
Thy fon, and his, ere that, may die,
And Time fome uncouth heir supply,
Who fhall for nothing else be known
But fpoiling all that thou haft done.
Who fet the twigs fhall he remember
That is in hafte to fell the timber?
And what fhall of thy woods remain,
Except the box that threw the main?
Nay, may not Time and Death remove
The near relations whom I love? And my coz Tom, or his coz Mary, (Who hold the plough, or skim the dairy)
My favourite books and pictures fell
To Smart, or Doiley, by the ell?
Kindly throw in a little figure,
And fet the price upon the bigger?
Thofe who could never read the grammar, 57°
When my dear volumes touch the hammer,
May think books beft, as richest bound;
My copper medals by the pound
May be with learned juttice weigh'd;
To turn the balance, Otho's head
May be thrown in; and, for the metal,
The coin may mend a tinker's kettle
Tir'd with thefe thoughts-Lefs tir'd than I, Quoth Dick, with your philofophy--That people live and die, I knew
An hour ago, as well as you.
And, if Fate fpins us longer years,
Or is in hafte to take the thears,
I know we muft both fortunes try,
And bear our evils wet or dry.
Yet, let the Goddefs fmile or frown,
Bread we fhall eat, or white or brown;
And in a cottage, or a court,
Frink fine clampaigne or muddled port.
What need of books thefe truths to tell,
Which folks perceive who cannot spell?
And muft we fpectacles apply,
To view what hurts our naked eye?
Sir. if it be your wifdom's aim
To make me merrier than I am,
I'll be all night at your devotion
But, if you would depref's my thought,
KNOWLEDGE: THE FIRST воок. THE ARGUMENT.. Solomon, feeking happiness from knowledge, convenes the learned men of his kingdom; requires them to explain to him the various ope rations and effects of Nature; difcourfes of vegetables, animals, and man; propofes fome queftions concerning the origin and fituation of the habitable earth; proceeds to examine the fyftem of the vifible heaven; doubts if there may not be a plurality of worlds; inquires into the nature of Spirits and Angels; and wishes to be more fully informed as to the attributes of the Supreme Being. He is imperfectly anfwered by the Rabbins and Doctors; blames his own curiosity; and conIcludes, that, as to Human Science, All is Vanity.
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Whose serious Muse inspires him to explain, 585 That all we act, and all we think, is vain; That, in this pilgrimage of feventy years, O'er rocks of perils, and through vales of tears, Deftin'd to march, our doubtful steps we tend, Tir'd with the toil, yet fearful of its end: That from the womb we take our fatal shares Of follies, paffions, labours, tumults, cares; 10 And, at approach of death, fhall only know The truth, which from these pensive numbers flow,
Come or, friend; broach the pleasing notion:
Your fyftem is not worth a groat-
For Plato's fancies what care I?
I hope you would not have me die,
Like fmple Cato in the play,
For any thing that he can fay?
E'en let him of ideas fpeak
To heathens in his native Greek.
If to be fad is to be wife,
I do moft heartily defpife
Whatever Socrates has faid,
Cr Tully writ, or Wanley read.
Dear Drift, to fet our matters right.
Remove thefe papers from my fight;
Burn Mat's Des-cart, and Aristotle;
Here! Jonathan, ycur mafter's bottle.
* Mr. Prior's Secretary and Executor.
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That we purfue falfe joy, and fuffer real woe. Happiness, object of that waking dream, Which we call life, miftaking: fugitive theme Of my pursuing verfe, ideal frade, Notional good, by fancy only made, And by tradition nurs'd, fallacious fire, Whofe dancing beams mislead our fond defire, Caufe of our care, and error of our mind; Oh! hadft thou ever been by Heaven defign'd To Adam, and his mortal race; the boon 605 Entire had been referv'd for Solomon: On me the partial lot had been befiow'd, And in my cup the golden draught had flow'd, 25 But O! ere yet original man was made, Ere the foundations of this earth were laid,
610 It was, opponent to our fearch, ordain'd
That joy, ftill fought, fhould never be attain'd.
This fad experience cites me to reveal,
And what I dictate is from what I feel.
Born, as I was, great David's favourite fon, Dear to my people, on the Hebrew throne, Sublime my court, with Ophir's treasures bleft, My name extended to the farthest eaft,
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