| HE was in Logick a great Critick, | |
| Profoundly skill'd in Analytick. | |
| He could distinguish, and divide | |
| A Hair 'twixt South and South-West side: | |
| On either which he would dispute, | 5 |
| Confute, change hands, and still confute. | |
| He'd undertake to prove by force | |
| Of Argument, a Man's no Horse. | |
| He'd prove a Buzard is no Fowl, | |
| And that a Lord may be an Owl; | 10 |
| A Calf an Alderman, a Goose a Justice, | |
| And Rooks Committee-men and Trustees. | |
| He'd run in Debt by Disputation, | |
| And pay with Ratiocination. | |
| All this by Syllogism, true | 15 |
| In Mood and Figure, he would do. | |
| |
| For Rhetorick, he could not ope | |
| His mouth, but out there flew a Trope: | |
| And when he hapned to break off | |
| I'th middle of his speech, or cough, | 20 |
| H'had hard words, ready to shew why, | |
| And tell what Rules he did it by. | |
| Else when with greatest Art he spoke, | |
| You'd think he talk'd like other folk. | |
| For all a Rhetoricians Rules | 25 |
| Teach nothing but to name his Tools. | |
| His ordinary Rate of Speech | |
| In loftiness of sound was rich, | |
| A Babylonish dialect, | |
| Which learned Pedants much affect. | 30 |
| It was a parti-colour'd dress | |
| Of patch'd and pyball'd Languages: | |
| 'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin, | |
| Like Fustian heretofore on Sattin. | |
| It had an odd promiscuous Tone, | 35 |
| As if h' had talk'd three parts in one. | |
| Which made some think when he did gabble, | |
| Th' had heard three Labourers of Babel; | |
| Or Cerberus himself pronounce | |
| A Leash of Languages at once. | 40 |
| This he as volubly would vent, | |
| As if his stock would ne'r be spent. | |
| And truly to support that charge | |
| He had supplies as vast and large. | |
| For he could coyn or counterfeit | 45 |
| New words with little or no wit: | |
| Words so debas'd and hard, no stone | |
| Was hard enough to touch them on. | |
| And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em, | |
| The Ignorant for currant took 'em, | 50 |
| That had the Orator who once | |
| Did fill his Mouth with Pebble stones | |
| When he harangu'd, but known his Phrase, | |
| He would have us'd no other ways. | |
| |
| In Mathematicks he was greater | 55 |
| Then Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater: | |
| For he by Geometrick scale | |
| Could take the size of Pots of Ale; | |
| Resolve by Signes and Tangents straight, | |
| If Bread or Butter wanted weight; | 60 |
| And wisely tell what hour o'th day | |
| The Clock does strike, by Algebra. | |
| |
| Beside he was a shrewd Philosopher; | |
| And had read every Text and gloss over: | |
| What e're the crabbed'st Author hath | 65 |
| He understood b'implicit Faith, | |
| What ever Sceptick could inquere for; | |
| For every why he had a wherefore: | |
| Knew more then forty of them do, | |
| As far as words and terms could go. | 70 |
| All which he understood by Rote, | |
| And as occasion serv'd, would quote; | |
| No matter whether right or wrong: | |
| They might be either said or sung. | |
| His Notions fitted things so well, | 75 |
| That which was which he could not tell; | |
| But oftentimes mistook the one | |
| For th'other, as Great Clerks have done. | |
| He could reduce all things to Acts | |
| And knew their Natures by Abstracts, | 80 |
| Where Entity and Quiddity | |
| The Ghosts of defunct Bodies flie; | |
| Where Truth in Person does appear, | |
| Like words congeal'd in Northern Air. | |
| He knew what's what, and that's as high | 85 |
| As Metaphysick wit can fly. | |
| In School Divinity as able | |
| As he that hight Irrefragable; | |
| Profound in all the Nominal | |
| And real ways beyond them all, | 90 |
| And with as delicate a Hand | |
| Could twist as tough a Rope of Sand, | |
| And weave fine Cobwebs, fit for skull | |
| That's empty when the Moon is full; | |
| Such as take Lodgings in a Head | 95 |
| That's to be lett unfurnished. | |
| He could raise Scruples dark and nice, | |
| And after solve 'em in a trice: | |
| As if Divinity had catch'd | |
| The Itch, of purpose to be scratch'd; | 100 |
| Or, like a Mountebank, did wound | |
| And stab her self with doubts profound, | |
| Onely to shew with how small pain | |
| The sores of faith are cur'd again; | |
| Although by woful proof we find, | 105 |
| They always leave a Scar behind. | |
| He knew the Seat of Paradise, | |
| Could tell in what degree it lies: | |
| And, as he was dispos'd, could prove it, | |
| Below the Moon, or else above it: | 110 |
| What Adam dreamt of when his Bride | |
| Came from her Closet in his side: | |
| Whether the Devil tempted her | |
| By a High Dutch Interpreter: | |
| If either of them had a Navel; | 115 |
| Who first made Musick malleable: | |
| Whether the Serpent at the fall | |
| Had cloven Feet, or none at all, | |
| All this without a Gloss or Comment, | |
| He would unriddle in a moment | 120 |
| In proper terms, such as men smatter | |
| When they throw out and miss the matter. | |
| |
