Just where the hangman does difpofe,
To fpecial friends, the fatal noose :
For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.
His warped ear hung o'er the strings,
Which was but foufe to chitterlings:
For guts, fome write, ere they are sodden,
Are fit for music, or for pudden ;
From whence men borrow ev'ry kind
Of minstrelfy, by string or wind.
His grifly beard was long and thick,
With which he ftrung his fiddlestick;
For he to horse-tail fcorn'd to owe
For what on his own chin did grow.
Chiron, the four-legg'd bard, had both
A beard and tail of his own growth;
And yet by authors 'tis averr'd,
He made ufe only of his beard.
In Staffordshire, where virtuous worth Does raise the minstrelsy, not birth :
Where bulls do choose the boldest king,
And ruler o'er the men of string,
As once in Perfia, 'tis faid,
Kings were proclaim'd by a horse that neigh'd; He, bravely vent'ring at a crown,
By chance of war was beaten down,
And wounded fore: his leg then broke,
Had got a deputy of oak;
For when a fhin in fight is cropt,
The knee with one of timber's propt,
Esteem'd more honourable than the other,
And takes place, tho' the younger brother.
Next march'd brave Orfin, famous for
Wife conduct, and fuccefs in war;
A skilful leader, ftout, fevere,
Now marshal to the champion bear.
With truncheon tipp'd with iron head,
The warrior to the lifts he led;
With folemn march, and stately pace,
But far more grave and folemn face;
Grave as the emperor of Pegu,
Or Spanish potentate, Don Diego.
This leader was of knowledge great,
Either for charge, or for retreat:
Knew when t'engage his bear pell-mell,
And when to bring him off as well.
So lawyers, left the bear defendant,
And plaintiff dog, should make an end on't,
Do stave and tail with writs of error,
Reverse of judgment, and demurrer,
To let them breathe awhile, and then
Cry whoop, and fet them on agen.
As Romulus a wolf did rear,
So he was dry-nurs'd by a bear,
That fed him with the purchas'd prey
Of many a fierce and bloody fray;
Bred up, where difcipline most rare is,
In military garden Paris:
For foldiers heretofore did grow
In gardens, just as weeds do now,
Until some splayfoot politicians
T' Apollo offer'd up petitions,
For licensing a new invention
They' ad found out of an antique engin,
To root out all the weeds, that grow
In public gardens, at a blow,
And leave th' herbs ftanding. Quoth Sir Sun,
My friends, that is not to be done.
Not done! quoth Statesmen: Yes, an't please ye,
When 'tis once known you'll say 'tis easy.
Why then let's know it, quoth Apollo :
We'll beat a drum, and they'll all follow.
A drum! quoth Phoebus, Troth that's true,
A pretty invention, quaint and new :
But tho' of voice and instrument
We are, 'tis true, chief prefident,
We fuch loud music do n't profess,
The devil's mafter of that office,
Where it must pass; if't be a drum,
He'll fign it with Cler. Parl. Dom. Com.
To him apply yourselves, and he
Will foon dispatch you for his fee.
They did so, but it prov'd so ill,
They'ad better let 'em grow there still.
But to resume what we discoursing
Were on before, that is, ftout Orfin;
That which so oft' by fundry writers,
Has been apply'd t' almost all fighters,
More justly may b' afcrib'd to this
Than any other warrior, viz.
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