The works of that late most excellent philosopher and astronomer, Sir George Wharton, bar. collected into one volume / by John Gadbvry ...

13. A Conclusion of this Years Book.

But hold! the Press hath overtook my Pen, The Term's at hand, and I shall wander then: My Steed is ready [the grave Pedlar's Back,] My Harbinger [his Dog,] my Inn [the Pack:] Old Erra Pater (that hoof-beaten Jew) The Shepherds Kalendar, (with all the Crew Of merry Rascals) my Companions are: They deign to stile me Fellow-Traveller. Then Fairs and Markets I must duly keep, And (on the Stall) make up the dirty heap Of Penny Ware: Where the disdainful Eye Pores on me two long hours, before he buy: Whilst Nobler Judgments purchase at first sight, And swear (im••licitely) I'm thorough Right.

Yet some (although ••hey on me seem to doat) Will not vouchsafe me ev'ry Year a Coat; Whose duller Brats I wish no l••ss forlorn And naked, twelve Months after they are born. Another, his Mundungus (with me) lights, All, save three Pages, where he wisely writes When's Mare took Horse; his Cows th'impatient Bull; Or, when hims••lf, some foul lascivious Trull. Y••t this, forbids no ••ntries; only I Would not be Pand••r to such Drudgery. Nor do I grudge the hungry flames a whit; For, they consume not, they refine my Wit. Others b••hind them (in Fools Ordure) throw My injur'd Leaves: they'll serve the Bible so. But O th' Exchange! there, I endure the Rack, Such Din is made, with Wharton's Almanack! I can't but Blush for shame, when I do meet My Name (like Small-Coal) cry'd in ev'ry Street. Howbe't, I there••n set the bolder face, Because, like Fortune have, ev'n Acts of Grace. And yet, some trifling Shops provoke me most: For, here and there, they ••ail me to a Post: O Cruel Hands! but that my Patience bears, It w••ll presaging what attends their Ears. Thus pleased, or displeased, I appear, Servant or Slave, t'all Interests, once a Year. So let me pass: And when this Journey's over, I'le try if be••ter luck I can di••cover.