'Here, Richard, how could I explain
The various labyrinth of the brain!
Surprise my readers, whilst I tell them
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 other's place to get,
And with incessant toil and strife
Would keep possession during life?
I could demonstrate every pore
Where Memory 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 labour,
Nor jostles 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? pare that, and take some other limb.

* Made of twigs or wicker.

Sir, in your nice affairs of System,
Wise men propose, but fools assist them.'
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 die
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 every 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 bias rules the bowl.
That great Achilles might employ
The strength designed 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 cheesecake diet!
Now give my argument fair play,
And take the thing the other way.
The youngster who at nine and three
Drinks with his sisters milk and tea,
From breakfast reads, till twelve o'clock,
Burnet and Heylin, Hobbes and Locke;
He pays due visits after noon,

To Cousin Alce and Uncle John;
At ten, from coffeehouse or play,
Returning finishes the day:

But give him port and potent sack,
From milksop he starts up Mohack;
Holds that the happy know no hours;
So through the street at midnight scours ;
Breaks watchmen's heads, and chairmen'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 footman, 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 watergruel?
But who shall stand his rage and force,
If first he rides, then eats his horse?
Salads and eggs, and lighter fare,
Tune the Italian sparks 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 different words:
To push this argument no further,
To starve a man in law is murther.
'As in a watch's fine machine
Though many artful springs are seen,
The added movements, which declare
How full the moon, how old the year,
Derive their secondary power

From that which simply points the hour:
For though those gimcracks 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 orbit 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 clockwork, 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 o'clock.
If you take off his rhetoric-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, though plain, would still go on;

But spoil the engine of digestion,
And you entirely change the question.
Alma's affairs no power can mend;
The jest, alas! is at an end;

Soon ceases all this worldly bustle,
And you consign the corpse 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 o'clock,

She knows not what herself has struek,
But leaves to standers-by the trial

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

Similes are like songs in love:

They much describe, they nothing prove.'
Mat, who was here a little gravell❜d,

Toss'd up his nose, and would have cavill'd:

*A popular undertaker, mentioned also by Garth, in his Dispen

sary.