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HE

ERE, five foot deep, lies on his back A cobler, ftarmonger, and quack; Who to the ftars in pure good-will Does to his best look upward fill. Weep, all you customers that ufe His pills, his almanacks, or fhoes: And you that did your fortunes feck, Step to his grave but once a week: This earth, which bears his body's print, You'll find has fo much virtue in't, That I durft pawn my ears 'twill tell Whate'er concerns you full as well, In phyfick, ftolen goods, or love, As he himself could, when above.

* VERSES

To be prefix'd before

BERNARD LINTOT's New

Mifcellany.

SOME Colineus + praife, fome Bleau †,

Others account them but fo fo;

Some Plantin + to the reft prefer,
And fome esteem old Elzevir †;

*The Oxford and Cam bridge mifcellany, 8vo.

+ Printers famous for have

ing publifhed fine editions of the Bible, and of the Greek and Roman clafficks.

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Others with Aldus* wou'd befot us;
I, for my part, admire Lintottus.---
His character's beyond compare,
Like his own person, large and fair.
They print their names in letters small,
But LINTOT ftands in capital:
Author and he with equal grace
Appear, and ftare you in the face.
Stephens prints heathen Greek, 'tis faid,
Which fome can't conftrue, fome can't
read:

But all that comes from Lintot's hand
Ev'n Rawlinson might understand.
Oft in an Aldus, or a Plantin,

A page is blotted, or leaf wanting:
Of Lintot's books this can't be faid,
All fair, and not fo much as read.
Their copy coft 'em not a penny
To Homer, Virgil, or to any;
They ne'er gave fix pence for two lines
To them, their heirs, or their affigns:
But Lintot is at vaft expence,

And pays prodigious dear for --- fenfe.
Their books are useful but to few,
A scholar, or a wit or two:

Lintot's for genʼral use are fit;

For fome folks read, but all folks fh---.

* A famous printer.

* TO

*TO

MR. JOHN MOORE,

Author of the celebrated Worm-Powder.

How much,

OW much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceiv'd by fhews and forms!

What'eer we think, whate'er we fee,
All human-kind are worms,

Man is a very worm by birth,
Vile, reptile, weak, and vain!
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.

That woman is a worm, we find,
E'er fince our grandame's evil;
She first convers'd with her own kind,
That ancient worm, the devil,

The learn'd themselves we book-worms

name;

The blockhead is a flow-worm ;

The nymph, whose tail is all on flame,
Is aptly term'd a glow-worm.

The fops are painted butterflies,
That flutter for a day;

First from a worm they take their rise,
And in a worm decay.

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The

The flatterer an earwig grows;
Thus worms fuit all conditions ;
Mifers are muck-worms, filk-worms beaus,
And death-watches physicians.

That statesmen have the worm, is feen
By all their winding play;
Their confcience is a worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.

Ah Moore! thy fkill were well employd,
And greater gain wou'd rise,

If thou could'ft make the courtier void
The worm that never dies!

O! learned friend of Abchurch-lane,
Who fett'ft our entrails free!
Vain is thy art, thy powder vain,
Since worms fhall eat ev'n thee.

Our fate thou only can'ft adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
* Ev'n Button's wits to worms fhall turn,
Who maggots were before.

*Button's coffee-house, in Covent-Garden, frequented by the wits of that time.

* VERSES

Occafioned by an etc. at the End of Mr. D'Urfy's Name in the Title to one of his Plays

Jo

*

OVE call'd before him t'other day
The vowels, U, 0, I, E, A;

All diphthongs, and all confonants,
Either of England, or of France;
And all that were, or wifh'd to be,
Rank'd in the name of Tom D'Urfy.
Fierce is this caufe; the letters spoke all,
Liquids grew rough, and mutes turn'd vocal.
Those four proud fyllables alone

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Were filent, which by fate's decree Chim'd in fo smoothly, one by one, To the fweet name of Tom D'Urfy. N, by whom names fubfift, declar'd, To have no place in this was hard And 2 maintain'd 'twas but his due Still to keep company with U; So hop'd to ftand no lefs than he In the great name of Tom D'Urfy. E fhew'd, a comma ne'er could claim A place in any British name; Yet, making here a perfect botch, Thrufts your poor vowel from his notch;

*This accident happen'd a flourish there, which the by Mr. D'Urfy's having made printer miftook for an etc.

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