Motteux had one very untow'rd,

And thought to mend it with a Cord,

But kill'd the Tree, yet gain'd his End,

Which makes th' Experiment condemn'd.

Others have thought to mend the Root,

By taking from the Tree its Fruit;

But in the Nutmegs lies the Breed,

And when they're gone we lose the Seed;

Tho' Virtuosi still have don't,

And always found it yield Accompt;

For Hey——gg——r then buys the Wood,

And of it makes us Whistles good,

Which yearly from Italia sent,

Here answers his and our Intent.

Others too curious will innoc

Ulate their Plants on Medlars Stock,

(i.e. as Tongues in Vulgar pass,

They graft it on an Open-arse;)

But Gardeners, Virtuosi, all,

Say this is most unnatural.

That Soil is certainly the best,

Whence first it sprang, and first increast,

In Vallies hollow, soft, and warm,

With Hills to ward off every Storm,

Where Water salt runs trickling down,

And Tendrils lie o'er all the Ground,

Such as the Tree itself shoots forth,

And better if't be tow'rds the North;

When such a Piece of Ground you see,

If in the midst a Pit there be,

There plant it deep unto the Root,

And never fear——you'll soon have Fruit.

Tho' let young Botanists beware

Of Insects that oft' harbour there,

Which 'mongst the tender Fibres breed,

And if not kill'd, eat up the Seed:

Good Humphrey Bowen gives another,

(As each Man should assist his Brother)

That is, to take especial Care

Not to set Vulvaria near;

Of them two Sorts are frequent found,

One helps, and to'ther spoils the Ground;

And many a Plant thriving and tall,

Destroy'd by them, has got a Fall.

But Misan's taken this just napping,

And against all Things that can happen

Both to the Shrub and Tree, has told some

How to make the deadliest Wholesome;

These venomous Vulvaria grow

At Vaux-Hall and St. James's too;

Nay, and about the Tree so leap,

That very few good Plants can 'scape.