But what, alas! is it to us, 745
Whether i’ th’ Moon men thus or thus
Do eat their Porridge, cut their corns,
Or whether they have tails or horns? 
What trade from thence can you advance,
But what we nearer have from France? 750
What can our travellers bring home,
That is not to be learnt at Rome? 
What politicks, or strange opinions,
That are not in our own dominions? 
What science can he brought from thence, 755
In which we do not here commence? 
What revelations, or religions,
That are not in our native regions? 
Are sweating lanthorns, or screen-fans,
Made better there than th’ are in France? 760
Or do they teach to sing and play
O’ th’ gittar there a newer way? 
Can they make plays there, that shall fit
The public humour, with less wit? 
Write wittier dances, quainter shows, 765
Or fight with more ingenious blows? 
Or does the man i’ th’ moon look big,
And wear a huger perriwig,
Shew in his gait or face more tricks,
Than our own native lunaticks? 770
And if w’ out-do him here at home,
What good of your design can come? 
As wind i’ th’ hypocondries pent,
Is but a blast if downward sent,
But if it upward chance to fly, 775
Becomes new Light and Prophecy
So when your speculations tend
Above their just and useful end,
Although they promise strange and great
Discoveries of things far set, 780
They are but idle dreams and fancies,
And savour strongly of the ganzas. 
Tell me but what’s the natural cause,
Why on a sign no painter draws
The full moon ever, but the half; 785
Resolve that with your JACOB’s staff;
Or why wolves raise a hubbub at her,
And dogs howl when she shines in water;
And I shall freely give my vote,
You may know something more remote. 790

At this deep Sidrophel look’d wise,
And staring round with owl-like eyes,
He put his face into a posture
Of sapience, and began to bluster: 
For having three times shook his head 795
To stir his wit up, thus he said
Art has no mortal enemies,
Next ignorance, but owls and geese;
Those consecrated geese in orders,
That to the Capitol were warders; 800
And being then upon patrol,
With noise alone beat off the Gaul: 
Or those Athenian Sceptic owls,
That will not credit their own souls;
Or any science understand, 805
Beyond the reach of eye or hand;
But meas’ring all things by their own
Knowledge, hold nothing’s to be known
Those wholesale criticks, that in coffee-
Houses cry down all philosophy,