be enjoys but little part of the necessaries of life, in comparison to what the industrious person does for the same fum, who feels its value in his labours, and is thence render'd more sensible thereof; it diverts the mind also from the prosecution of more real and certain dependences, and is generally associated with divers other vices, as, avarice in the application to it, unseemly passions in the continuation, and prodigality or desperation in the conclufion; thus be, who all the while fancies he plays upon the square, plays against the most disproportionable and preposterous odds.

Q. Why in a dark place, the rays of light entring but by a particular passage, as a key-hole

, or the like, Mall to those within represent upon a body capable of reflection, as a wall

, &c. the shadows of persons from without inverted As they pass along?

A. Since a shadow is nothing else than a privation of light, since it is necessary that a ftrait line be capable of being drawn from the efficient cause of such privation to the body that is depriv'd of light, fince the strait line drawn from the upper part of such as pass by the key-hole will necessarily terminate on the lower part of the wall, and another drawn from their lower part will on the contrary terminate on the upper part of the wall, and fo proportionably throughout their whole body, it thence naturally follows, that a shadow thus produc'd must be inverted in its posture.

Q. You are desired to tell the world, why women of the most merit and goodnefs bave generally least power with their husbands? Your servant Watch-welt Night.cap.

4. When it happens fo, it is, because such husbands either want sense to discern, or good nature to reward their merit.

Q. Whether Cleopatra did bravely in killing her self?

A. Far from bravely, since it was the plainest proof the could give, that she wanted courage to stand the Thock of her misfortunes,

Q. Why

a

Q. Why should a cornelian ring, which is always the fame in subftance, several times in a day look pale, and in a minute return to its former redness?

A. This proceedeth from the variety of air (commonly found in islands) which sometimes being moist, sullies and renders the cornelian pale or albescent, after the manner of glass, which when breath'd upon, is clouded with a pale whitish colour, but upon change to a drier air, which will often happen in a moment, the cornelian recovers its former brisk red colour.

Q. Why above all other figh a herring dies as foon as out of the water?

A. A berring has a warm and thin mass of blood, which requires a continual allay of water, passing thro' the gills to cool and incrasfate it, whereupon being taken out of the water, it immediately dies; but other fish, as carps, eels, lobsters, doc. having a more cool and viscid mass of blood, remain some time alive, by reason their blood is fupported in it felf, without the help of water.

Pray solve the underwritten doubt,
For Tom, vôtre serviteur RCought.
''M inclin'd to the wars,

By the honour of scars;
Whither Mars bids me go,
Yet Cupid says no;
And with vigour and heat,
Loudly founds a retreat ;
So I am fiill interpendent.

Now say, good Apollo,

If Mars I shall follow,
Or Venus, and so make an end on't?

A. 'Twill fhew you a daftard,
To mind the blind bastard;
Nay, you will ( what more is)
Be flighted by Chloris ;
The fex always have
A regard for the brave:

Then be no more interpendent;

For For if

you

will follow
Th’advice of Apollo,
Court Mars, and you'll make the best end on't,
And thus, we hope, we've folv’d your doubt,
So Bon Soir, Monsieur Tom R. Cought.

Q. I see you won't tell me why the dull ass,
Is markt on the back with the sign of a cross;
I therefore fufpect you're afraid to discover
The servile marks of your own dear brother ;
But if th' Ovidian Metamorphosis,
Or the Pythagorean Metempsychosis
Be true, Apollo should change you to asses,
In your fphere then you'd ad most excellent farces;
But now a baboon would play on a fiddle,
Much better than you can expound nature's riddle ?

A. Had we folved your family-mark, when you With all your kindred, you foon might have task'd

US; And by murder'd profe, turn'd to hard trotting lines, Which neither the one nor the other defines, Might baye dar'd us to thew why the buzzard and

owl, The wood.cock and widgeon, and that jobbernole, Which men call a cod's head, such colours partake? Till with nonsense we'd plagu'd all the town for your

fake, Whilst all the fine sense from your question we ga

ther, Is the ass still brays loudest,'gainst be meets with foul

weather.

ask'd us,

Q. Apollo's sons, I you entreat,
To tell the reason why sheep bleat

When carry'd 10 be shorn ?
And why the harmless, filly Sheep,
Tho' with more reason, do not bleat,

When they by dogs are torn?

A. Poetick Sir, when theep are born, By the Meep shearers to be shorn,

The

The tickling makes 'em bleat;
But when the dogs upon 'em fly,
Surprize and terror swell so high,

They cannot do the feat.
Q. Say, great Apollo, say the reafon why
The fons of rhime,

So seldom climb,
But are entail'd to rags and poverty ?
4. 'Tis known that many in high station shinc,

But some pretend,

And miss their end,
Becaufe they write no better lines than thine.
The complaint to Celinda from the Italian of Ariosto.
F on my tow'ring Alps stupendous height,

Whose craggy cliffs, sarp tops our eyes affright,
And with amazing horror strikes the fight,
If there Celinda you had chanc'd to be
The harden's product of some lab'ring tree,
Or fome Hyrcanian tiger nourish'd thee;
Then void of human pity, there were cause
Tobey the dictates of those savage laws:

Yet ev'n the oak can bend, and tygers be
More tender natur'd, and more kind than thee,
At least far gentler than thou art to me.
The greedy Ocean, whose destructive waves
Gape to devour, whose very smiles are graves,
Of all its monstrous forms has none so cold,
Nor does one rock in its valt bofom hold,
That, had it fenfe, fo cruel would remain,
To triumph in a shipwreck'd sailor's pain,
Or could they melt to thoughts of love like me,
Would glory in their conqueft, maid, like thee,

Nothing in nature does so fix'd remain,
But Love's soft fire can gentle entrance gain,
And all but thee, once loy'd, will love again,

Minh

}

}

The Amorous Scrutiny.

I.
F 'tis not love, what is it that I feel ?

If 'tis, well might the ancients paint him blind, Who shoots at random darts of feather'd steel,

That wound each breast they strike in different kind.

,

2.

If good the cause, why is th' effect so ill ?

Or why do I amidst such griefs remain ? If bad, such torments cannot cure, but kill, Whence then proceeds the sweetness of my pain ?

3.
If I consent to burn, why do I grieve ?

Or if I don't what signifies my tears ?
Oh life in death! How I my self deceive,
And ftab my blooming joys with hopes and fears!

4.
Who can define the odd effects of love,

'Midst stormy tempests in a leaky boat, No Rudder left, no compass right to move, But too and fro unknowingly I float.

5. Scarce can I tell, how I wou'd wish to be,

Whilst full of health, I long methinks to die, But when in view of death I'd fain be free,

Freezing in summer, I in winter fry.

Q. Gentlemen, I find you absolutely deny spontaneous or equivocal generation, which tho' a common opinion I must suspend my belief thereof, till I'm satisfied of the generation of those creatures (by parents of the same species) which I shall mention ; to which I desire your Answer.

Monsieur Levenhoft fome years since gave an account to our royal society, that in one drop of spirit of pepper, he could plainly perceive, by the help of a microscope, not less than ten thousand living creatures. Now if the seminal parts of those infe&ts were in or about the pepper, and tho' beat be proper for generation, yet with fubmiffion I believe it will be allowed the excessive heat by which the spirit is extracted wow'd undoubtedly destroy 'em,

How