Chapter II

_London_, that vents of _false Ware_ so much Store, In no _Ware_ deceives us more; For Men, led by the _Colour_, and the Shape, Like _Zeuxis' Bird_, fly to the painted Grape. Some things do through our Judgment pass, As through a _Multiplying Glass_: And sometimes, if the _Object_ be too far, We take a _falling Meteor_ for a _Star_.