But b'ing a virtuofo, able To fmatter, quack, and cant, and dabble, He held his talent most adroit, For any mystical exploit, As others of his tribe had done, And rais'd their prizes three to one ; 365 Of chaldrons of plain downright bawds. 370 But as an elf, the devil's valet, Is not so flight a thing to get, For those that do his bus'ness best. In hell are us'd the ruggedeft; Before so meriting a person Cou'd get a grant, but in reverfion, He ferv'd two 'prenticeships, and longer, For, as some write, a witch's ghost, As foon as from the body loos'd, 375 380 Becomes a puifney imp itself, And is another witch's elf, He, after fearching far and near, With whom he bargain'd beforehand, And, after hanging, entertain'd : Since which he 'as play'd a thousand feats, 385 390 395 And turns to comfits by his arts, And one by one, with shame and fear, 400 405 410 415 Vow'd that you came to him, to know fhou'd carry me or no ; If you And would have hir'd him and his imps, You fell to vapouring and huffing, 420 425 With many a bruise and desperate wound; 430 Swore you had broke and rob'd his house, And stole his talismanique louse, And all his new-found old inventions, With flat felonious intentions, Which he could bring out, where he had, 435 And what he bought 'em for, and paid; His flea, his morpion, and punese, He 'ad gotten for his proper ease, And all in perfect minutes made, By th' ablest artists of the trade; Which, he could prove it, fince he lost, And all together, might amount 440 And did not doubt to bring the wretches To ferve for pendulums to watches, Which, modern virtuosi say, Incline to hanging every way. 450 |