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No Meteor, no Eclipse appear'd?
No Comet with a flaming Beard?
The Sun hath rofe, and gone to Bed,
Juft as if Partrige were not dead:
Nor hid himself behind the Moon,
To make a dreadful Night at Noon.
He at fit Periods walks through Aries,
Howe'er our earthly Motion varies;
And twice a Year he'll cut th' Equator,
As if there had been no fuch Matter.
SOME Wits have wonder'd what Analogy
There is 'twixt * Cobling and Aftrology:
How Partrige made his Opticks rife
From a Shoe-Sole, to reach the Skies.
A LIST the Cobler's Temples ties, To keep the Hair out of his Eyes; From whence 'tis plain, the Diadem That Princes wear, derives from them; And therefore Crowns are now a-days Adorn'd with golden Stars and Rays: Which clearly fhews the near Alliance, 'Twixt Cobling and the Planets Science.
BESIDES; that flow-pac'd Sign Boötes, As 'tis mifcall'd, we know not who 'tis :
But Partrige ended all Disputes;
He knew his Trade, and call'd it* Boots.
THE borned Moon, which heretofore
Upon their Shoes the Romans wore,
Whose Wideness kept their Toes from Corns,
And whence we claim our Shooing-Horns;
Shews how the Art of Cobling bears
A near Refemblance to the Spheres.
A SCRAP of Parchment hung by Geometry, (A great Refinement in Barometry)
Can like the Stars foretel the Weather;
And what is Parchment elfe but Leather ?
Which an Aftrologer might use,
Either for Almanacks or Shoes.
THUS Partrige by his Wit and Parts,
At once did practise both these Arts:
And as the boading Owl (or rather
The Bat, because her Wings are Leather)
Steals from her private Cell by Night,
And flies about the Candle-Light;
So learned Partrige could as well
Creep in the Dark from Leathern Cell,
And in his Fancy fy as far,
To peep upon a twinkling Star.
BESIDES, he could confound the Spheres,
And fet the Planets by the Ears:
To fhew his Skill, he Mars could join
To Venus in Afpe&t Malï'n ;
Then call in Mercury for Aid,
And cure the Wounds that Venus made.
GREAT Scholars have in Lucian read,
When Philip King of Greece was dead,
His Soul and Spirit did divide,
And each Part took a different Side ;
One rose a Star; the other fell
Beneath, and mended Shoes in Hell.
THUS Partrige ftill fhines in each Art,
The Cobling and Star-gazing Part;
And is inftall'd as good a Star,
As any of the Cefars are.
TRIUMPHANT Star! fome Pity fhew
On Coblers militant below,
Whom roguish Boys in stormy Nights
Torment, by piffing out their Lights;
Or thro' a Chink convey their Smoke,
Inclos'd Artificers to choke.
THOU, high-exalted in thy Sphere,
May'ft follow ftill thy Calling there.
To thee the Bull will lend his Hide,
By Phabus newly tann'd and dry'd.
For thee they Argo's Hulk will tax,
And scrape her pitchy Sides for Wax.
Then, Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided Hair, to make thee Ends.
The Point of Sagitarius' Dart
Turns to an Awl, by heavenly Art:
And Vulcan, wheedled by his Wife,
Will forge for thee a Paring-Knife.
For want of Room, by Virgo's Side,
She'll ftrain a Point, and fit * aftride,
To take thee kindly in between,
And then the Signs will be Thirteen.
ERE, five Feet deep, lies on his Back
A Cobler, Star-monger, and Quack;
Who, to the Stars in pure Good-Will,
Does to bis beft look upward ftill.
Weep all you Customers, that use
His Pills, bis Almanacks, or Shoes:
And you, that did your Fortunes feek,
Step to his Grave but once a Week:
This Earth, which bears his Body's Print,
You'll find bath so much Virtue in't,
* Tibi brachia contrahet ingens
That I durft pawn my Ears, 'twill tell
Whate'er concerns you, full as well,
In Phyfick, ftolen Goods, or Love;
As be bimfelf could, when above.
Written in the Year 1707:
ESPONDING Phyllis was endu'd
With ev'ry Talent of a Prude:
She trembled, when a Man drew near;
Salute her, and she turn'd her Ear;
If o'er against her you were plac'd,
She durft not look above your Waist:
She'd rather take you to her Bed,
Than let you fee her drefs her Head:
In Church you hear her, thro' the Crowd,
Repeat the Abfolution loud;
In Church, fecure behind her Fan,
She durft behold that Monster, Man:
There practis'd how to place her Head, ·
And bit her Lips, to make them red;
Or, on the Mat devoutly kneeling,
Wou'd lift her Eyes up to the Cieling,