Note 20 — Front matter

Two amphibious monsters, well known in the republic of letters as editors of the Critical and Monthly Reviews. The latter seems to be compared by the poet to a land-tortoise buried in the earth, on account of the slowness of its motion and the clouds of dust and dullness with which it is surrounded: the former hath been long known by the above appellation from the following humorous description.

Lusus Naturæ Typographus.

Monstrum horrendum informe ingens cui lumen ademptum. Virg.

I thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well; they imitated humanity so abominably Shakespeare.

In Nature's workshop, on a day, Her journeymen inclin'd to play, Half drunk 'twixt cup and can, Took up a clod, which she with care Was modelling a huge sea bear, And swore they'd make't a man. They tried, but, handling ill their tools, Formed, like a pack of bungling fools, A thing so gross and odd; That, when it roll'd about the dish, They knew not if 'twere flesh or fish, A man or Hodmandod. Yet, to compleat their piece of fun, They christen'd it Arch Hamilton; "But what can this thing do?" Kick it down stairs; the devil's in't If it won't do to write and print The Critical Review.Kenrick.