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'Tis not amiss, ere ye're giv'n o'er, To try one desp'rate med'cine more; For where your case can be no worse, The desp'rat'st is the wisest course.

Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore, For by his side a pouch he wore, Replete with strange hermetic powder That wounds nine miles point-blank would solder.

Such as take lodgings in a head That's to be let unfurnished.

Still amorous, and fond, and billing, Like Philip and Mary, on a shilling.

Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

The moon pull'd off her veil of light, That hides her face by day from sight That's both her lustre and her shade), And in the lantern of the night, With shining horns hung out her light.

He made an instrument to know If the moon shine at full or no; That would, as soon as e'er she shone straight, Whether 'twere day or night demonstrate; Tell what her d'ameter to an inch is, And prove that she's not made of green cheese.

Her voice, the music of the spheres, So loud, it deafens mortals' ears; As wise philosophers have thought, And that's the cause we hear it not.

For discords make the sweetest airs.

Life is like music; it must be composed by ear, feeling, and instinct, not by rule.

Man is the only animal that can remain on friendly terms with the victims he intends to eat until he eats them.

For blocks are better cleft with wedges, Tan tools of sharp or subtle edges, And dullest nonsense has been found By some to be the most profound.

Sure 'tis an orthodox opinion, That grace is founded in dominion.

With books and money placed, for show Like nest eggs, to make clients lay, And for his false opinion pay.

Opinions have vested interests just as men have.

For rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope.

The Roman senate, when within The city walls an owl was seen, Did cause their clergy, with lustrations . . . . The round-fac'd prodigy t' avert, From doing town or country hurt.

The trenchant blade Toledo trusty. For want of fighting was grown rusty, And ate into itself for lack Of somebody to hew and hack.

As men of inward light are wont To turn their optics in upon't.

Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher, And had read ev'ry text and gloss over Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath, He understood b' implicit faith.