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Therefore I suffer'd this; towards me did run A thing more strange, than on Nile's slime the Sun E'ęs bred, or all which into Noah's Ark came: A thing which would have pos’d Adam to name: Stranger than seven Antiquaries ftudies, Than Africk Monsters, Guianaes rarities, Stranger than frangers : one who, for a Dane, In the Danes Massacre had sure been Nain, H he had liv'd then; and without help dies, When next the Prentices 'gainst ftrangers rise; One whom the watch at noon lets scarce

go One, to whom the examining Justice fure would cry, şir, by your Priesthood tell me what you are? His cloaths were strange, tho' coarse, and black,

though bare, Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been Velvet, but 'twas now (fo much ground was feen) Become Tufftaffaty; and our children thall See it plain rafh a while, then nought at all. The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all

tongues, And only knoweth what to all States belongs, Made of th' accents, and best phrase of all thefe, He speaks one language. If strange meats displease,

Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there came
A thing which Adam had been posid to name ; 25
Noah had refus'd it lodging in his Ark,
Where all the Race of Reptiles might embark:
A verier monster, than on Africk's Thore
The sun e'er got, or flimy Nilas bore,
Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous shelves contain,
Nay, all that lying Travellers can feign. 31
The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,
At night, would swear him dropt out of the Moon.
One whom the mob, when next we find or make
A popish plot, shall for a Jesuit cake,

35 And the wise Justice starting from his chair Cry, By your Priesthood tell me what


are ? Such was the wight: Th'apparel on his back, Tho' coarse, was rev'rend, and tho' bare, was black: The fuit, if by the fashion one might guess, Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess, But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd; So Time, that changes all things, had ordaind! Our fons shall see it leisurely decay, First turn plain rash, then vanish quite away.

This thing has traveld, speaks each language too, And knows what's fit for ev'ry state to do; Of whose best phrase and courtly accent join'd, He forms one tongue, exotic and refin'd.



Art can deceive, or hunger force my taft; But pedants motly tongue, foldiers bumbast, Mountebanks drug-tongue, nor the terms of law, Are strong enough preparatives to draw Me to hear this, yet I must be content With his tongue, in his tongue calla Complement: In which he can win widows, and pay scores, Make men speak treason, couzen subtlest whores, Out-flatter favourites, or out-lie either Jovius, or Surius, or both together.

He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God, How have I finn'd, that thy wrath's furious Rod, This fellow, chuseth me! He faith, Sir, I love your Judgment, whom do you prefer For the best Linguift ? and I feelily Said that I thought Calepines Dictionary. Nay, but of men, most sweet Sir? Beza then, Some Jesuits, and two reverend men Of our two academies I nam'd: here He stopt me, and said, Nay your Apostles were


Talkers I've learn'd to bear; Motteux I knew, 50
Henley himself I've heard, and Budgel too,
The Doctor's Wormwood style, the Hash of tongues
A Pedant makes, the storm of Gonson's lungs,
The whole Artill'ry of the terms of War,
And (all those plagues in one) the bawling Bar: 55
These I could bear; but not a rogue so civil,
Whose tongue will compliment you to the devil.
A tongue, that can cheat Widows, cancel fcores,
Make Scots speak treason, cozen subtleft whores,
With royal Favourites in flatt'ry vie,
And Oldmixon and Burnet both out-lie.

He spies me out; I whisper, Gracious God!
What sin of mine could merit such a rod ?
That all the shot of dulness now must be
From this thy blunderbaís discharg'd on me! 65
Permit (he cries) no ftranger to your fame
To crave your sentiment if a's your name.
What Speech esteem you most? “ The King's, said I.”
But the best words? " O Sir, the Distionary.
You miss my aim; I mean the most acute
And perfect Speaker?" Onslow, pait dispute."
But, Sir, of writers? “ Swift, for closer ftyle,
“ But Ho**y for a period of a mile.".
Why yes, 'tis granted, these indeed may pass :
Good common linguists, and so Panurge was; 75
Nay troth th’Apostles (tho' perhaps too rough).
Had once a pretty gift of Tongues enough:


Good pretty Linguists ; fo Panurgus was,
Yet a poor Gentleman ; all these may pass
By travail. Then, as if he would have sold
His tongue, he prais'd it, and such wonders told,
That I was fain to say, If you had liv’d, Sir,
Time enough to have been Interpreter
To Babels Bricklayers, sure the Tower had stood,

He adds, If of Court life you knew the good,
You would leave loneless. I said, Not alone
My loneness is; but Spartanes fafhion
To teach by painting drunkards doth not last
Now, Aretines pictures have made few chaste;
No more can Princes Courts (though there be few
Better pictures of vice) teach me virtue.
He like to a high-ftretcht Lute-string squeaks, 0

Sir, "Tis sweet to talk of Kings. At Westminster, Said I, the man that keeps the Abby tombs, And for his price, doth with whoever comes Of all our Harrys, and our Edwards talk, From King to King, and all their kin can walk;

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