In this still Labyrinth, around her lye
Spells Philters, Globes, and Schemes of Palmistry:
A Sigil in this Hand the Gypsie bears,
In th'other a prophetick Sive and Sheers.
The Dame by Divination knew that soon
The Magus wou'd appearand then begun
Hail, sacred Seer! thy Embassie I know,
Wars must ensue, the Fates will have it so.
Dread Feats shall follow, and Disasters great,
[1]Pills charge on Pills, and Bolus Bolus meet:
Both Sides shall conquer, and yet Both shall fall;
The Mortar now, and then the Urinal.
To thee alone my Influence I owe;
Where Nature has deny'd, my Favours flow.
'Tis I that give (so mighty is my Pow'r)
Faith to the Jew, Complexion to the Moor.
I am the Wretch's Wish, the Rook's Pretence,
The Sluggard's Ease, the Coxcomb's Providence.
Sir Scrape-Quill, once a supple smiling Slave,
Looks lofty now, and insolently Grave;
Builds, Settles, Purchases, and has each Hour
Caps from the Rich, and Curses from the Poor.
Spadillio, that at Table serv'd o'late,
Drinks rich Tockay himself, and eats in Plate;
Has Levees, Villas, Mistresses in store,
And owns the Racers which he rubb'd before.
Souls heav'nly born my faithless Boons defy;
The Brave is to himself a Deity.
Tho'
