OR, THE

PROGRESS

OF THE

MIN D.

In THREE CANTOS.

Πάιλα γέλως, και πάντα κόνις, καὶ πάντα τὸ μηδὲν.
Πάντα γ' ἐξ ἀλόγων δεὶ τὰ γιγνόμμα.

Incert. ap. Stobœum.

Printed in the Year MDCC XXV.

THE

FIRST CANTO.

M

ATTHEW 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.

Rats half the Manuscript have eat:
Dire Hunger! which we still regret:
O! may they ne'er again digest
The Horrors of fo fad a Feast.
Yet lefs our Grief, if what remains,
Dear JACOB, by thy Care and Pains
Shall be to future Times convey'd.
It thus begins:

*

* * Here MATTHEW faid: ALMA in Verfe; in Profe, the MIND, By ARISTOTLE'S Pen defin'd,

Throughout the Body squat or tall,

Is, bonâ fide, All in All.

VOL. IL

D

And

And yet, flap dash, is All again

In every Sinew, Nerve, and Vein:

Runs here and there, like HAMLET'S Ghoft:
While every where She rules the roaft.

This System, RICHARD, We are told,
The Men of OXFORD firmly hold.
The CAMBRIDGE Wits, you know, deny
With Ipfe dixit to comply.

They fay (for in good truth They speak
With fmall Refpect of that old GREEK)
That, putting all his Words together,

'Tis Three blue Beans in One blue Bladder.
ALMA, They ftrenuously maintain,
Sits Cock-Horfe on Her Throne the Brain;
And from that Seat of Thought difpenfes
Her Sov'reign Pleasure to the Senfes.
Two Optic Nerves, They fay, She tyes,
Like Spectacles, a-cross the Eyes;
By which the Spirits bring her Word,
Whene'er the Balls are fix'd, or ftirr'd;
How quick at Park and Play they strike;
The Duke they court; the Toaft they like;
And at St. JAMES's turn their Grace
From former Friends, now out of Place.

Without these Aids, to be more ferious,
Her Pow'r, They hold, had been precarious:
The Eyes might have confpir'd 'her Ruin;
And She not known, what They were doing.

Foolish it had been, and unkind,

That They fhou'd fee, and She be blind.

Wife

Wife Nature likewife, They fuppofe,
Has drawn two Conduits down our Nofe:
Cou'd ALMA elfe with Judgment tell,
When Cabbage ftinks, or Rofes fmell?
Or who wou'd ask for her Opinion
Between an Oyfter, and an Onion?
For from moft 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 likewife judges of the Tafte.
Elfe (difmal Thought!) our Warlike Men
Might drink thick Port for fine Champagne;
And our ill-judging Wives and Daughters
Miftake Small-beer for Citron-Waters.

Hence too, that She might better hear,
She fets a Drum at either Ear;
And Loud or Gentle, Harfh 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 thoufand little Nerves She fends
Quite to our Toes, and Fingers Ends;
And Thefe in Gratitude again
Return their Spirits to the Brain;
In which their Figure being printed
(As juft before, I think, I hinted)
D 2

ALMA