What bowling-stones, in running race

Upon a board, have fwifteft pace;

Whether a pulse beat in the black
Lift of a dappled loufe's back;

If fyftole or diastole move

Quickest when he 's in wrath or love;

When two of them do run a race,

Whether they gallop, trot, or pace;

How many scores a flea will jump,

Of his own length, from head to rump,

Which Socrates and Cherephon

3051

310%

That him in place of zany serv'd,

320

A paltry wretch he had, half-ftarv'd,

Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw,
Not wine, but more unwholefome law 3

325

Το

Ver. 317. How many different fpeciefes.] Species's, in editions 1664, 1674, 1684. Altered to fpeciefes, 1689. Ver. 325. Whachum.] Journeyman to Sidrophel, who was one Tom Jones, a foolish Welfhman. In a Key to a poem of Mr. Butler's, Whachum is faid to be one Richard

To make 'twixt words and lines huge gaps,
Wide as meridians in maps;

To fquander paper, and spare ink,

Or cheat men of their words, fome think.

330

From this, by merited degrees,

He'd to more high advancement rise,

To be an under-conjurer,

Or journeyman aftrologer :

His business was to pump and wheedle,

335

And men with their own keys unriddle;

To make them to themfelves give answers,

For which they pay the necromancers;

To fetch and carry' intelligence

Of whom, and what, and where, and whence,

349

And all discoveries disperse

Among th' whole pack of conjurers;

What cut-purfes have left with them,

For the right owners to redeem,

And what they dare not vent, find out,
To gain themselves and th' art repute;
Draw figures, schemes, and horofcopes,
Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' fhops,
Of thieves afcendant in the cart,

And find out all by rules of art:
Which

way a ferving-man, that's run With clothes or money away, is gone ;

345

350

Who

Richard Green, who published a pamphlet of about five sheets of base ribaldry, and called, Hudibras in a Snare. It was printed about the year 1667.

May be redeem'd; or stolen plate

Who pick'd a fob at Holding-forth,

And where a watch, for half the worth,

Reftor'd at conscionable rate.

355

When ufe, and when abstain from vice,
Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice..
And as in prifon mean rogues beat
Hemp for the fervice of the great,

370

So Whachum beat his dirty brains

T' advance his master's fame and gains,
And, like the devil's oracles,

Put into doggerel rhymes his spells;
Which, over every month's blank page
I' th' almanack, strange bilks prefage.
He would an elegy compofe

375

On maggots fqueez'd out of his nofe;
In lyric numbers write an ode on
His miftrefs' eating a black-pudden;

And, when imprison'd air escap'd her,
It puft him with poetic rapture.

380

His

His fonnets charm'd th' attentive crowd,
By wide-mouth'd mortal troll'd aloud,
That, circled with his long-ear'd guests,
Like Orpheus look'd among the beasts:
A carman's horse could not pass by,
But stood ty'd up to poetry;
No porter's burthen pafs'd along,
But ferv'd for burthen to his fong:

385

390

Each window like a pillory appears,

With heads thrust through, nail'd by the ears;

T' have been the theme of such a song.

Was rais'd by him, found out by Fisk,
On which was written, not in words,
But hieroglyphic mute of birds,

4.95

Many

Ver. 404.] Mr. Butler alludes to one Fisk, of whom Lilly obferves, that he was a licentiate in phyfic, and born near Framlingham in Suffolk; was bred at a country fchool, and defign'd for the univerfity, but went not thither, ftudying phyfic and aftrology at home, which afterwards he practifed at Colchester; after which he came to London, and practised there.

Many rare pithy faws, concerning
The worth of aftrologic learning:
From top of this there hung a ropę,
To which he faften'd telescope,
The fpectacles with which the stars
He reads in smallest characters.

419

It happen'd as a boy, one night,

Did fly his tarfel of a kite,

The ftrangeft long-wing'd hawk that flies,
That, like a bird of Paradife,

415

Or herald's martlet, has no legs,

Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;

His train was fix yards long, milk-white,

At th' end of which there hung a light,

420

Inclos'd in lantern made of paper,

That far off like a ftar did appear:

This Sidrophel by chance espy'd,

And with amazement staring wide,

Blefs us! quoth he, what dreadful wonder
Is that appears in heaven yonder?

425

A comet, and without a beard!
Or ftar that ne'er before appear'd?
I'm certain 'tis not in the fcrowl
Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl,
With which, like Indian plantations,
The learned ftock the conftellations;
Nor those that drawn for figns have been
To th' houses where the planets inn,

It must be supernatural,

Unless it be that cannon-ball

435

That,