To Dr. F. B. On his Book of Chesse.

SIR, now untravell'd is the Golden Fleece:
Men that could only fool at Fox and Geese,
Are new made Polititians by thy Book,
And both can judge and conquer with a Look.
The hidden fate of Princes you unfold;
Court, Clergy, Commons, by your Law control'd;
Strange, Serious Wantoning, all that they
Bluster'd, and clutter'd for, you play.