The Teeth and favage Beard the Heroe's Face
Did with becoming martial Horror grace.

Some wore Coat-Armour, imitating Scale,
And next their Skin were ftubborn Shirts of Mail;
Some wore a Breast-Plate, and a light Juppon,
Their Horfes cloath'd with rich Caparifon.
Some for Defence would Leathern Bucklers use
Of folded Hides; and others Shields of Pruce.
One hung a Pole-Ax at his Saddle Bow,
And one a heavy Mace to ftun the Foe.
One for his Legs and Knees provided well,

Blac.

Dryd. Pal. & Ars.

With Jambeux arm'd, and double Plates of Steel:
This on his Helmet wore a Lady's Glove,
And that a Sleeve imbroider'd by his Love.
Words and Devices blaz'd on ev'ry Shield,
And pleafing was the Terrour of the Field. Dryd. Pal. & Arc.
ARROW. See Archers.

Arrows aloft in feather'd Tempests fly,
Darts hifs at Darts encount'ring in the Sky.
Sounded at once the Bow, and fwiftly flies
The feather'd Death, and hiffes thro' the Skies.

By far more flow

Springs the fwift Arrow from the Parthian Bow,
Or Cydon Eugh, when traverfing the Skies,

Blas

Dryd. Virg.

And drench'd in Pois'nous Juice, the fure Deftruction flies.

ART. See Nature.

ASH. See Trees.

Rent like a Mountain Afh that dar'd the Winds,

And stood the sturdy Stroaks of lab'ring Hinds.
About the Root the cruel Ax refounds,

The Stumps are pierc'd with oft-repeated Wounds.
The War is felt on high, the nodding Crown

Dryd. Virg.

Now threats a Fall, and throws the leafy Honours down.
To their united Force it yields, tho' late,

And mourns with mortal Groans th'approaching Fate.
The Roots no more their upper Head fuftain,

But down fhe falls, and fpreads a Ruin thro' the Plain.

(Dryd. Virg.

Dryd. Virg.

Like a Mountain Afh, whofe Roots are spread Deep fix'd in Earth, in Clouds he hides his Head.

ASPICK.

Welcome thou kind Deceiver,

Thou beft of Thieves! who with an eafy Key
Doft open Life, and unperceiv'd by us,
Ev'n fteal us from our felves: Difcharging fo
Death's dreadful Office better than himself,
Touching our Limbs fo gently into Slumber,

That

That Death ftands by, deceiv'd by his own Image
And thinks himfelf but Sleep.

ASTONISHMENT.

Dryd. All for Love.

I could a Tale unfold, whofe lightest Word
Would harrow up thy Soul, freeze thy young Blood;
Make thy two Eyes, like Stars, ftart from their Spheres,
Thy knotty and combined Locks to part,
And each particular Hair to ftand an end,
Like Quills upon the fretful Porcupine.
Prepare to hear

A Story that shall turn thee into Stone:

Could there be hewn a monftrous Gap in Nature,
A Flaw made thro' the Centre by fome God,

Shak. Haml.

Thro' which the Groans of Ghofts might strike thy Ears,
They would not wound thee as this Story will.

My Heart finks in me,

And ev'ry flacken'd Fiber drops its Hold,
Like Nature letting down the Springs of Life.
My Soul runs back:

The Wards of Reafon roul into their Spring.
It drives my Soul back to her inmoft Seats,
And freezes ev'ry ftiff'ning Limb to Marble.

Lee Oedip.

Dryd. Span. Fry.

Lee D. of Guife.

His curdling Blood forgot to glide :

Confufion on his fainting Vitals hung,
And fault'ring Accents flutter'd on his Tongue.
Not the laft Sounding could furprize me more,
That fummons drowsy Mortals to their Doom;
When call'd in hafte they fumble for their Limbs,
And tremble unprovided for their Charge.

She thrice effay'd to fpeak; her Accents hung,
And fault'ring dy'd unfinish'd on her Tongue,
Or vanish'd into Sighs; with long Delay

Row. Ulyff.

Gar.

Dryd, Don. Seb.

Her Voice return'd, and found the wonted way. Dryd. Ovid.
The pale Affiftants on each other star'd,

With gaping Mouths for iffuing Words prepar'd :
The ftill-born Sounds upon the Palate hung,
And dy'd imperfect on the fault'ring Tongue.

(Dryd. Theod. and Hon.

O Sigifmonda! he began to fay, Thrice he began, and thrice was forc'd to ftay, Till Words with often trying found their way.

}

(Dryd. Sig. and Guife.

ASTROLOGER. See Conjurer.
They'll fearch a Planet's Houfe to know
Who broke and robb'd a House below:
Examine Venus and the Moon

Who ftole a Thimble, who a Spoon.

D 4

And

And tho' they nothing will confefs,
Yet by their very Looks can guess,
And tell what guilty Afpe&t bodes,
Who ftole, and who receiv'd the Goods,
They'll feel the Pulfes of the Stars,
To find out Agues, Coughs, Catarrhs:
And tell what Crifis does divine

The Rot in Sheep, the Mange in Swine:
In Men what gives or cures the Itch,
What makes them Cuckolds, poor or rich;
What gains or lofes, hangs or faves;

What makes Men great, what Fools, what Knaves;
But not what Wife: For only of those
The Stars, they fay, cannot difpofe,
No more than can the Aftrologians;
There they fay right, and like true Trojans.
Some Towns and Cities, fome, for Brevity,
Have caft the "verfal World's Nativity,
And made the Infant Stars confefs,
Like Fools or Children, what they please.
Some calculate the hidden Fates

Of Monkeys, Puppy-Dogs, and Cats;
Some running Nags, and fighting Cocks;
Some Love, Trade, Law-Suits, and the Pox.
Some take a Meafure of the Lives

Of Fathers, Mothers, Husbands, Wives:
Make Oppofition, Trine, and Quartile,
Tell who is barren and who fertile.
As if the Planet's firft, Afpe&t
The tender Infant did infect:
No fooner has he peep'd into

The World, but he has done his Do.
Catch'd all Difeafes, took all Phyfick,
That cures or kills a Man that is fick :
Marry'd his punctual Dofe of Wives,
Is cuckolded, and breaks or thrives.
There's but the Twinkling of a Star
Between a Man of Peace and War;
A Thief, and Juftice, Fool and Knave,
A huffing Officer and a Slave;
A crafty Lawyer and Pick-pocket,
A great Philofopher and a Blockhead;
A formal Preacher and a Player,
A learn'd Phyfician and Manilayer:
As if Men from the Stars did fuck
Old Age, Difeafes, and ill Luck

Wit, Folly, Honour, Virtue, Vice,
Trade, Travel, Women, Claps, and Dice,
And draw with the first Air they breathe
Battel and Murther, fuddain Death.
As Wind i'th' Hypocondries pent,
Is but a Blaft if downward fent;
But if it upwards chance to fly,
Becomes new Light and Prophecy :
So when your Speculations tend
Above their juft and useful End,
Altho' they promise ftrange and great
Difcoveries of things far fet,

They are but idle Dreams and Fancies.
Tell me but what's the natʼral Cause,
Why on a Sign no Painter draws
The full Moon ever, but the Half:
Refolve that with your Jacob's Staff:
Or why Wolves raife a Hubbub at her,
Or Dogs howl when the fhines in Water:
And I hall freely give my Vote,

You may know fomething more remote.
PROFESSOR in Aftrology and Phyfick.

An inner Room receives the num'rous Shoals

Of fuch as pay to be reputed Fools:

Globes ftand on Globes, Volumes on Volumes lie,
And Planetary Schemes amufe the Eye:
The Sage in Velvet Chair here lolls at Eafe,
To promise future Health for prefent Fees.
Then, as from Tripod, folemn Shams reveals,
And what the Stars know nothing of, foretells.
One asks how foon Panthea may be won,
And longs to feel the Marriage-Fetters on :
Others, convinc'd by melancholy Proof,
Enquire when courteous Fates will strike 'em off.
Some by what Means they may redrefs the Wrong,
When Fathers the Poffeffion keep too long.
And fome would know the Iffue of their Cause,
And whether Gold can fodder up its Flaws.
Poor pregnant Lais his Advice would have,
To loofe by Art what fruitful Nature gave.
And Portia old in Expectation grown,
Laments her barren Curfe, and begs a Son:
Whilft Iris his Cosmetick Wafh would try,
To make her Bloom revive, and Lover die.
Some ask for Charms, and others Philtres choose,
To gain Corinna, and their Quartans lofe.
Young Hylas, botch'd with Stains too foul to name,
In Cradle here, renews his youthful Frame;

Hud

Cloy'd

Cloy'd with Defire, and furfeited with Charms,
A Hot-house he prefers to Julia's Arms.
And old Lucullus would th' Arcanum prove,
Of kindling in cold Veins the Sparks of Love.

ATLAS.

And now behold Majeftick Atlas rife,
And bend beneath the Burden of the Skies:
His tow'ring Brows aloft no Tempest know,
While Lightning flies, and Thunder rowls below.
Atlas, whofe Head fuftains the starry Frame.

Whofe brawny Back fupports the Skies :
Whofe Head with Piny Forrefts crown'd,
Is beaten by the Winds, with foggy Vapours bound.
Snows hide his Soulders; from beneath his Chin
The Fount of rolling Streams their Race begin:
A Beard of Ice on his large Breast depends.

Atlas, who turns the rouling Heav'ns around,

GAT

Gar

Dryd. Virg:

And whose broad Shoulders with their Lights are crown'd.

ATTENTION.

Let all be hufh'd; each fofteft Motion ceafe:

Be ev'ry loud tumultuous Thought at Peace:
And ev'ry ruder Gafp of Breath

Be calm, as in the Arms of Death.
Hither let nought but facred Silence come;
And let all fawcy Praife be dumb:
And thou moft fickle, moft uneafy Part,
Thou reftlefs Wanderer, my Heart,
Be ftill: Gently, ah! gently leave,
Thou bufy idle thing to heave:
Stir not a Pulse; and let my Blood,
That turbulent unruly Flood,
Be foftly ftay'd:
Let me be all but my Attention dead.
Go reft, y'unneceffary Springs of Life,
Leave your officious Toil and Strife,
For I would hear her Voice, and try
If it be poffible to die.

The Air grows fenfible

Of the great things you utter, and is calm;
The hurry'd Orbs, with Storms fo rack'd of late,
Seem to ftand ftill, as Jove himself were talking.
As I liften'd to thee,

The happy Hours pafs'd by us unperceiv'd,
So was my Soul fix'd to the foft Enchantment.

His Looks

Drew Audience and Attention ftill as Night;

(Dryd. Virg

Cong.

Lee Oed.

Rowe Tamerl.

Or