Our state-artificer forefaw Which way the world began to draw: O' th' compass in their bones and joints, And better than by Napier's bones, age of So guilty finners, in a state, 405 moons; 410 Can by their crimes prognosticate, All ways he could t' enfure his throat, 415 And to the utmost do his best To fave himself, and hang the rest. 420 To match this faint there was another, As bufy and perverse a brother, An haberdasher of small wares In politics and state-affairs; More Jew than Rabbi Achithophel, And better gifted to rebel; For when h' had taught his tribe to 'spouse The cause, aloft upon one house, He fcorn'd to fet his own in order, But try'd another, and went further; To's only principle, his will, That, whatsoe'er it chanc'd to prove, 425 430 Nor law, nor cavalcade of Ho'burn, 435 Cou'd render half a grain less stubborn ; For he at any time would hang, For th' opportunity ť' harangue ; And rather on a gibbet dangle, Than miss his dear delight, to wrangle; 440 In which his parts were fo accomplish'd, Of weight it bore, with greater eafe; Not by the force of carnal reason, 455 He still maintain'd 'em, like his faults, The more they're cudgel'd, grow the stiffer. The fury of his heat abated; For nothing but his intereft Could lay his devil of contest: It was his choice, or chance, or curse, Poffefs'd with th' devil, worms, and claps ; The Trojan mare, in foal with Greeks, Not half fo full of jadish tricks, 460 465 470 Tho' fqueamish in her outward woman, Her freaks appear'd, to fit the closer : As when 'tis in a wrong belief. 475 480 |