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Which Socrates and Chærephon
In vain assay'd so long agone ;
Whether his snout a perfect nose is,
And not an elephant's proboscis ;
How many diff'rent specieses
Of maggots breed in rotten cheeses ;
And which are next of kin to those
Engender'd in a chandler's nose ;
Or those not seen, but understood,
That live in vinegar and wood.

A paltry wretch he had, half-stary’d,
That him in place of Zany serv’d,
Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw,
Not wine, but more unwholesome law;
To make 'twixt words and lines huge gaps,
Wide as meridians in maps ;
To squander paper, and spare ink,
Or cheat men of their words, some think.

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;

From this, by merited degrees,
He'd to more high advancement rise,
To be an under-conjurer,
Or journeyman astrologer :
His bus'ness was to pump and wheedle,
And men with their own keys unriddle ;
To make them to themselves give answers,
For which they pay the necromancers
To fetch and carry intelligence
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence,
And all discoveries disperse
Among th' whole pack of conjurers ;
What cut-purses 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 horoscopes,
Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' shops,

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Of thieves ascendant in the cart,
And find out all by rules of art :
Which way a serving-man, that's run
With clothes or money away,

is

gone;
Who pick'd a fob at holding-forth,
And where a watch, for half the worth,
May be redeem'd; or stolen plate
Restor'd at conscionable rate.
Beside all this, he serv'd his master
In quality of poetaster,
And rhymes appropriate could make
To ev'ry month i'th' almanack;
When terms begin, and end, could tell,
With their returns, in doggerel ;
When the Exchequer opes and shuts,
And fow-gelder with safety cuts ;
When men may eat and drink their fill,
And when be temp’rate, if they will ;

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When use, and when abstain from vice,
Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice.
And as in prisons mean rogues

beat
Hemp for the service of the great,
So Whachum beat his dirty brains
T advance his master's fame and gains,
And like the devil's oracles,
Put into dogg’rel rhymes his spells,
Which, over ev'ry month's blank page
I'th' almanack, strange bilks presage.
He would an elegy compose
On maggots squeez’d out of his nose;
In lyric numbers write an ode on
His mistress, eating a black pudding ;
And, when imprison'd air escap'd her,
It puft him with poetic rapture :
His fonnets charm'd th' attentive crowd,
By wide-mouth'd mortal trollid aloud,

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That, circled with his long-ear'd guests, 385
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 burden pass’d along,
But serv'd for burden to his song :
Each window like a pill’ry appears,
With heads thrust thro' nail'd by the ears
All trades run in as to the sight
Of monsters, or their dear delight,
The gallow-tree, when cutting purse 395
Breeds bus'ness for heroic verse,
Which none does hear, but would have hung
T' have been the theme of such a song.

Those two together long had liv’d
In mansion prudently contriv’d,
Where neither tree nor house could bar
The free detection of a star;

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