A man first builds a country-seat,
Then finds the walls not good to eat.
Another plants, and wondering sees
Nor books nor medals on his trees.
Yet poet and philosopher

Was he who durst such whims aver.
Bless'd, for his sake, be human reason,
That came at all, though late, in season.
'But no man sure e'er left his house,
And saddled Ball, with thoughts so wild
To bring a midwife to his spouse,
Before he knew she was with child:
And no man ever reap'd his corn,
Or from the oven drew his bread,

Ere hinds and bakers yet were born,
That taught them 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! (Matt replied) 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 clothes for all the Town,
Then sent them out to Monmouth-street,
To try what persons they would fit;
But every free and licens'd tailor
Would in this thesis find a failure.
Should whims like these his head perplex,
How could he work for either sex?
His clothes as atoms 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 bodice,
And not for an ideal goddess.

No error near his shopboard lurk'd ;

He knew the folks for whom he work'd;

Still to their size he aim'd his skill,
Else, pr'ythee, who would pay his bill?

'Next, Dick, if Chance herself should 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 rivals' 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 honour 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 conjurer 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 die :

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 perplex'd,

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 different 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 pleased 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 ankles, legs, and knees;
Next, as the sap of life does rise,
She lends her vigour to the thighs;
And, all these under regions past,

She nestles somewhere near the waist;
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 christening'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,
Broomstaff or poker they bestride,
And round the parlour love to ride,
Till thoughtful father's pious care
Provides his brood, next Smithfield fair,
With supplemental hobbyhorses;

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 Around the fields and woods they run;

They frisk, and dance, and leap, and play,
Nor heed what Freind or Snape can say.
To her next stage as Alma flies,
And likes, as I have said, the thighs,
With sympathetic power she warms
Their good allies and friends, the arms;
While Betty, dances on the green,
And Susan is at stoolball seen;

While John for ninepins 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 lie,

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 queuch 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 month's time the bodice loose,
And petticoats too short, disclose
That at this age the active mind
About the waist lies most confin'd,
And that young life and quickening sense
Spring from his influence darted thence:
So from the middle of the world
The sun's prolific rays are hurl'd;