TO THE
ROYAL SOCIETY.
I.
Of all that Human Knowledge which has bin
Unforfeited by Man's rebellious Sin,
Though full of years He do appear,
(Philosophy, I say, and call it, He,
For whatsoe're the Painter's Fancy be,
It a male Virtu seems to me)
Has still bin kept in Non-age till of late,
Nor manag'd or enjoy'd his vast Estate:
Three or four thousand Years one would have thought,
To ripeness and perfection might have brought
A Science so well bred and nurst,
And of such hopeful parts too at the first.
But, oh, the Guardians and the Tutors then,
(Some negligent, and some ambitious Men)
Would ne'er consent to set him free,
Or his own natural Powers to let him see,
Left that should put an end to their Authoritie.
II.
They amus'd him with the Sports of wanton Wit,
With the Deserts of Poetry they fed him,
Instead of solid meats t'encrease his Force;
Instead of vigorous Exercise, they led him
Into the pleasant Labyrinths of ever-fresh Discourse:
Instead of carrying him to see
The Riches which do hoarded for him lye
