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 ;
For one predicting pimp has th' odds

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,
I' th' myst'ry of a lady-monger.

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,
At length found one in Lancashire,

With whom he bargain'd beforehand,

And, after hanging, entertain'd :

Since which he 'as play'd a thousand feats,
And practis'd all mechanic cheats :
Transform'd himself to th' ugly fhapes
Of wolves and bears, baboons and apes,
Which he has vary'd more than witches,
Or Pharaoh's wizards could their switches;
And all with whom he 'as had to do,
Turn'd to as monftrous figures too;
Witness myself, whom he 'as abus'd,
And to this beastly shape reduc'd,
By feeding me on beans and peas,
He crams in nafty crevices,

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390

395

And turns to comfits by his arts,
To make me relifh for deferts;

And one by one, with shame and fear,
Lick up the candy'd provender.
Befide-But as h' was running on,
To tell what other feats he 'ad done,
The Lady stopt his full career,
And told him, now 'twas time to hear,
If half those things, faid fhe, be true.
They 're all, quoth he, I swear by you.
Why then, said she, that Sidrophel
Has damn'd himself to th' pit of hell,
Who, mounted on a broom, the nag
And hackney of a Lapland hag,
In queft of you came hither post,
Within an hour, I'm fure, at most,
Who told me all you fwear and fay,
Quite contrary, another way;

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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,
To be your match-makers and pimps,
T'engage the devil on your side,
And steal, like Proferpine, your bride ;
But he, difdaining to embrace
So filthy a design, and base,

You fell to vapouring and huffing,
And drew upon him like a ruffin;
Surpriz'd him meanly, unprepar'd,
Before he 'ad time to mount his guard,
And left him dead upon the ground,

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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,
He has been eaten up almost,

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