And at St. James's turn their grace
From former friends now out of place.
Without thefe aids, to be more ferious,
Her power, they hold, had been precarious :
The eyes might have confpir'd her ruin;
And the not known what they were doing.
Foolish it had been, and unkind,
That they fhould fee, and fhe be blind.
Wife Nature likewife, they fuppofe,
Has drawn two conduits down our nose :
Could Alma elfe with judgement tell,
When cabbage ftinks, or rofes fmell?
Or who would ask for her opinion
Between an oyster and an onion?
For from moft bodies, Dick, you know,
Some little bits afk leave to flow;
And, as through these canals they roll,
Bring up a fample 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 fmall-beer for citron-waters.
Hence too, that the might better hear,
She fets a drun at either ear;
And, loud or gentle, harfh or fweet,
Are but th' alarums which they beat.
Laft, to enjoy her fenfe of feeling
(A thing fhe much delights to deal in),
A thoufand little nerves fhe fends
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 cafe,
As fhe had been upon the place.
Thus, while the Judge gives different journies So To country counfel and attornies,
He on the bench in quiet fits,
Deciding, as they bring the writs.
The Pope thus prays and fleeps at Rome,
And very feldom firs from home :
Yet, fending forth his holy fpies,
And having heard what they advife,
He rules the church's bleft dominions,
And fets men's faith by his opinions.
The fcholars of the Stagyrite,
Who for the old opinion fight,
Would make their modern friends confefs
The difference but from more to lefs.
The Mind, fay they, while you fustain
To hold her ftation in the brain;
You grant, at leaft, he is extended :
Ergo the whole difpute is ended.
For till to-morrow fhould you plead,
From form and structure of the head;
The Mind as vifibly is seen
Extended through the whole machine.
Why should all honour then be ta'en
From lower parts to load the brain;
When other limbs we plainly fee,
Each in his way, as brifk as he?
For mufic, grant the head receive it;
It is the artift's hand that gave it;
And, though the skull may wear the laurel,
The foldier's arm fuftains the quarrel.
Befides, the noftrils, 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 elfe but fleep and ake.
Nor matters it, that you can fhow
How to the head the fpirits go;
Thofe fpirits started from fome goal,
Before they through the veins could roll.
Now, we fhould hold them much to blame,
If they went back, before they came.
If therefore, as we must fuppofe,
They came from fingers, and from toes ;
Or toes, or fingers, in this cafe,
"Of Num-fcull's felf fhould take the place: Difputing fair, you grant thus much, That all fenfation is but touch.
Dip but your toes into cold water,
Their correfpondent teeth will chatter:
And, ftrike the bottom of your feet,
You fet your head into a heat.
The bully beat, and happy lover,
Confefs, that feeling lies all over.
Note here, Lucretius dares to teach
(As all our youth may learn from Creech)
That eyes were made, but could not view;
Nor hands embrace, nor feet pursue :
But heedlefs Nature did produce
The members firft, and then the ufe.
What each muft act was yet unknown,
Till all is mov'd by Chance alone.
A man first builds a country-feat;
Then finds the walls not good to eat.
Another plants, and wondering fees
Nor books nor medals on his trees.
Yet Poet and Philofopher
Was he, who durft fuch whims aver.
Bleft, for his fake, be human reason,
That came at all, though late in season.
But no man fure e'er left his house,
And faddled Ball, with thoughts fo wild,
To bring a midwife to his fpoufe,
Before he knew he was with-child.
And no man ever respt his corn,
Or from the oven drew his bread,
Ere hinds and bakers yet were born,
That taught them both to fow and knead.
Before they're ask’d, can maids refuse?
Can-Pray, fays Dick, hold-in your Mufe.
While you Pindaric truths rehearse,
She hobbles in alternate verfe.
Verse! Mat reply'd; is that my care?
Go on, quoth Richard, foft and fair.
This looks, friend Dick, as Nature had
But exercis'd the salesman's trade;
As if the haply had fet down,
And cut-out cloaths for all the town:
Then fent them out to Monmouth-street,
To try, what perfons they would fit.
But every free and licens'd taylor
Would in this thefis find a failure.
Should whims like thefe his head perplex,
How could he work for either fex?
His cloaths, as atoms might prevail,
Might fit a pifmire, or a whale.
No, no he views with ftudious pleasure
Your shape, before he takes your
For real Kate he made the boddice,
And not for an ideal goddess.
No error near his fhop-board lurk’d:
He knew the folks for whom he work'd;
Still to their fize he aim'd his skill:
Elfe, pr'ythee, who would pay his bill?
Next, Dick, if Chance herfelf fhould vary, Obferve, how matters would mifcarry : Acrofs your eyes, friend, place your fhoes: Your fpectacles upon your toes:
|