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Confess'd that indeed he had a musical note, By his one sacred light he solemnly swore, But sometimes strain'd so hard that he rattled in That in search of a laureat, he'd look out no throat;

more, Yet owning he had sense, t'encourage him for't, A general murmur ran quite through the hall, He made him his Ovid in Augustus's court. To think that the bays to an actor should fall; Poor Setele, his trial was the next came about, Tom cold them, to put his desert to the test, He brought him an Ibrahim with the preface torn That he had MAID plays as well as the best,

And was the great'st wonder the age ever bore, And humbly desir'd he might give no offence; Of all the play-fcribblers that e'er writ before, D--n him, cries Shadwell, he cannot write sense : His wit had moft worth, and modesty in't, And Bancks, cry'd Newport, I hate that dull For he had writ plays, yet ne'er came in print.

rogue ;
Ápollo, considering he was not in vogue,
Would not trust his dear bays with so modest a

And bid the great boy be sent back to school.
Tom Otway came next, Tom Shadwell's dear AGAINST MANKIND.

And swears, for heroics, he writes best of any :

I, who to my coft
Don Carlos his pockets fo amply had fillid,
That his mange was quite cur'd, and his lice were man,
all kill'd;

A spirit free, to choose for my own share,
Anababaluthu put in for a share,

What sort of Aeth and blood l pleas'd to wear,
And little Toni Effence's author was there : I'd be a dog, a monkey, or a bear,
But Apollo had seen his face on the stage,

Or any thing, but that vain animal,
And prudently did not think fit to engage Who is so proud of being rational.
The scumn of a play-house, for the prop of an The senses are too gross, and he'll contrive

A sixth, to contradict the other five;
n the numerous croud that encompassid him round, And, before certain instinct, will prefer
Little starch'd Johnny Crown at his elbow he Reason, which fifty times for one does err.

Reason, an ignis fatuus of the mind, His cravat-ttring new iron'd, he gently did stretch Which leaves the light of nature, senfe, behind : His lily-white hand out, the laurel to reach. Pathless and dangerous wandering ways it takes, Alledging that he had most right to the bays, Through error's fenny bogs, and thorny brakes; For writing romances, and th-ting of plays : Whilst the misguided follower climbs with pain Apollo rose up, and gravely confefs'd,

Mountains of whimsies, heapt in his own brain : of all men that writ, his talent was best; Stumbling from thought to thought, falls headlong for fince pain and dishonour man's life only.

down damn,

Into Doubt's boundless sea, where like to drown The greatest felicity mankind can claim,

Bouks bear him up a while, and make hım try Is to want sense of smart, and be past fense' of To swim with bladders of philosophy: Thame;

In hopes still to o'ertake the skipping light, And to perfect his bliss in poetical rapture, . The vapour darices in his dazzled fight, He bid him be dull to the end of the chapter. Till, spent, it leaves him to eternal night. The poetess Afra next few'd her sweet face, Then Old Age and Experience, hand in hand, And (worc by her poetry, and her black ace, Lead him to Death, and make him understand, The laurel by a double right was her own,

After a search fo painful and so long, For the plays she had writ, and the conquests she That all his life he has been in the wrong. had won.

Huddled in dirt, this reasoning engine lies, ,
Apollo acknowledg'd 'twas hard to deny her, Who was fo proud, so witty, and to wise :
Yet, to deal srankly and ingenuously by her, Pride drew him in, as cheats their bubbles catch,
He told her, were conquests and charms her pre. And made him venture to be made a wretch:

His wifdom did his happiness destroy,
She ought to have pleaded a dozen years since. Aiming to know the world he should enjoy :
Nor could D'Urfey forbear for the laurel to stic., And wit was his vain frivolous pretence,

Of pleafing others at his own expence ;
Protesting that he had the honour to tickle For wits are treated just like comnion whores,
Th' cars of the town, with his dear madam First they're enjoy'd, and then kick'd out of doors :

The pleasure paít, a threatening doubt remains, With other pretenders, whose names I'd rehearse, That frights th' enjoyer with succeeding pains. But that they're too long to stand in my verse : Women, and men of wit, are dangerous tools, Apollo, quite tir'd with their tedious harangue, And ever fatal to admiring fools. Lai lait found Tom Betterton's face in the gang, Pleasure allures ; and when the fops escape, 2 For, Gnce poets without the kind players may 'T'is not that they are lov'd, but fortunate ; hang,

And therefore what they fear, at heart they hate.


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II. ALL this with indignation have I hurld,

From whence (with thoughts full of concern) lic At the pretending part of the proud world,

views Who, fwoln with telfish vanity, devise

The wife and daring conduct of the fight : False freedoms, holy cheats, and formal lyes,

And each bold action to his mind renews Over their fellow.flaves to tyrannize.

His present glory and his patt delight:
Bue if in court fo just a man there be,
(in court a juft man, yet unknown to me)

Who does his needful flattery direct,
Not to opprefs and ruin, but proteet;

From his fierce eyes flashes of rage he throws

As from black clouds when lightr wrcaks Since fiattery, which way foever laid, Is ftill a tax on that unhappy trade;


Transported thinks himself amidst his foes,
If so upright a lateiman you can find,
Whose passions bend to his unbias'd mind;

And abfeat, yet enjoys the bloody day.
Who does his arts and policies apply,

To raise his country, not his family.
Is there á mortal who on God relies?

So when my days of impotence approach,
Whose life his faith and doctrine justifies ?

And I m by wine and love's unlucky chance Not one blown up with vain aspiring pride,

Driven from the pleasing billows of debauch, Who, for reproof of fins, does man deride :

On the dull thore of lazy temperauce:
Whofe envious heart with faucy eloquence,

Dares chide at kings, and rail at men of fense :
Who in his talking vents more peevish lyes, My pains at last sume respite it all afford,
More bitter railings, scandals, calumnies,

While 1 behold the battles you maintain ;
Than at a golliping are thrown about,

When feces of glafles fail around the board, . When the good wives dirink free, and then fall out. From whose broadsides vollies of wit shall rain. None of the fenfual tribe, whose talents lic

In avarice, pride, in floth, and glutony;
Who hunt preferment, but abhos good lives, 7 Nor nail the fight of honourable fears,
Whole lurt exalted to that height arrives,

Which my too forward valour did procuro, They act adultery with their own wives;

Frighten new-lifted soldiers from the wars; And, ere a score of years completed be,

l'all joys have more than paid what I endure. Can from the lofty stage of honour fee, Half a large purish their own progeny.

VII. Nor doating

who would he ador'd, For domineering at the council board,

Should some brave youth (worth being drunk) A greater fop, in businesi at fourfcore, Fonder of serious toys, affected niore,

And from his fair inviter meanly shrink, Then the gay glittering fool at tiventy proves,

"Twould please the ghost of niy departed vice, With all his noise, his tawdry cloths, and loves.

lf, at my council, he repent and drink. But a mes k humble manot modeft fenfe,

Who, preaching peace, dees practiso continence;
Whore pious life's a proof he dues believe

Or should some cold-complexion'd fot forbid, Myftcrious truths, which no nian cun conceive.

With his dull morals, our night's brisk alarms; upon earth there dwell foch godlike men,

I'll fire his blood, hy telling what I did I'll here recant iny paradox to theni;

When I was strong, and able to bear arms. Adore those fries of virtue, homage pay,

And, with the thinking world, their laws obcy,
If fuck there are, yet grant me this at le:ft, I'll tell of whores attack'd their lords at home,
Man differs more from man, than man from Bawds quarters beaten up, and fortress won ;

Windows demolish'd, watches overcome,
And handfume ills by my contrivance done.


With tales like these I will such heat inspire, THE MAIMED DEBAUCHEE. As to important mischief thall incline;

I'll make him long fome ancient church to fire,

And fear no lewdness they're call'd co by wine. I.


S some brave Admiral, in former war

Depriv'd of force, but prest with courage Thus statesman-like I'll saucily impose, fiill,

And, fafc from danger, valiantly advise; Two rival fleets appearing from afar,

Shelter'd in impotence urge you to blows, Crawls to the top of an adjacent hill :

And, being good for nothing else, be wils.

prove nice,


But Nothing, why does Something Aill permi,
That sacred monarchs should at council fit,


Nothi Nach thou gliderebrne here was made; Wich perfons highly thought at best for nothing

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That hadít a being ere the world

fit? And (well fixt) art alone of ending not afraid.


Whilst weighty Something modestly abftains Erc Time and Place were, Time and Place were From princes' coffers, and froin statesmens' brains, not,

And nothing there like stately Nothing reigns

. When primitive Nothing Something straight be

XV. got, Then all proceeded from the great united—What. Nothing, who dwell'st with fools in grave disgrife,

For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise, III.

Lawn Reeves, and furs, and gowns, when they Something, the general attribute of all,

like thee look wise. Sever'd from thee, its sole original,

XVI. Into thy boundless self must undistinguish'd fall.

French truth, Dutch prowess, British policy,

Hibernian learning, Scotch civility, Yet something did thy mighty power command,

Spaniards' dispatch, Danes' wit, are mainly sees in

And from thy fruitsul emptiness's hand,
Snatch'd men, beasts, birds, fire, air, and land.


The great man's gratitude to his best friend, Matter, the wicked'rt offspring of thy race,

Kings' promises, whores' vows, towards thee they By Form aflisted, flew from thy embrace,

bend, And rebel light obfcurd thy reverend dulky face.

Flow swiftly into thee, and in thec ever cad. VI. With Form and Matter, Time and Place did

join ;
Body, thy foe, with thec did leagues combine,

To spoil thy peaceful realm, and ruin all thy line.

SOME LINES IN LUCRETIUS. But turn-coat Time assists the foe in vain,

Gods, by right nature, posses And to thy hungry womb drives back thy flaves again.

Far off remov'd from us and our affairs,

Neither approach'd by dangers or by cares; VIII.

Rich in themselves, to whom we cannot add;
Though mysteries are barr'd from laic eyes, Not pleas'd by good deeds, nor provok'd by bad.
And the divine alone, with warrant, pries
Into thy bosom, where the truth in private lies :

Yet this of thee the wife may freely fay,
Thou from the virtuous nothing tak’It away,
And to be part with thee the wicked wisely pray.

Great Negative! how vainly would the wise

Enquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise ?
Didit thou not sand to point their dull philoso-

, Dest

The utmost limits of a gasp of breath Is, or is not, the two grcat ends of Fate,

Let the ambitious zealot lay aside And, true or false, the subject of debate, His hope of heaven (whose faith is bat his pride: That perfect or destroy the vast designs of Fate ; Let flavish fouls lay by their fear,

Nor be concern'd which

way, or where, xu.

After this life they shall be hurl'd: When they have rack'd the politician's breast, Dead, we become the lumber of the world, Within thy bosom most securely rest,

And to that mass of matter shall be swept And, when reduc'd to thee, are least unsafe and where things destroy'd with things unborn art bett.


And, her seat by thee, alliks thy short-liv'd reign, THA coeliaking pange of perfeel peace;







Devouring Time (wallows us whole,

Then a young daughter loft, yet balsam found Impartial Death confounds body and soul.

To stanch that new and freshly-bleeding wound; For hell, and the foul fiend that rules

And, after this, with fixt and steady eyes The everlasting fiery gaols,

Beheld your noble Gloucester's obsequies :
Devis’d by rogues, dreaded by fools,

And then sustain'd the royal Princess' fall;
With his grim grilly dog that keeps the door, You only can lament her funeral.
Are senseless storics, idle tales,

But you will hence remove, and leave behind Dreams, whimgies, and no more.

Our sad complaints lost in the empty wind;
Those winds that bid you stay, and loudly roar
Destruction, and drive back to the firm shore;
Shipwreck to safety, and the envy fly
of sharing in this scene of tragedy:
While ficknefs, from whose rage you post away,

Relents, and only now contrives your stay; $ ACRED MAJEST Y, The lately fatal and infectious ill

Courts the fair princess, and forgets to kill :

In vain on fevers curses we dispense,

And vent our passion's angry eloquence:

In vain we blast the ministers of Fate,

And the forlorn physicians imprecate; VIRTUE's triumphant hrine! who doft en

Say they to death new poisons add and fire,

Murder securely for reward and hire; At once three kingdoms in a pilgrimage :

Arts basilisks, that kill whome'er they see, Which in extatic duty drive to come

And truly write bills of mortality, Oxt of themselves, as well as from their home;

Who, left the bleeding corpse should them betray, Uhilft England grows one camp, and London is

First drain those vital speaking streams away. Itself the nation, not metropolis,

And will you, by your flight, take part with And loyal Kent renews her arts again,

there? Fencing her ways with moving groves of men;

Become yourself a third and new disease ? Forgive this distant homage, which does meet

If thcy have caus'd our loss, then so have you, Your blest approach on sedentary feet ;

Who take yourself and the fair princess too : And though my youth, not patient yet to bear

For we, depriv'd, an equal damage have The weight of arms, denies me to appear

When France doth ravish hence, as when the In steel before you; yet, great Sir, approve

grave : My manly wishes, and more vigorous love ;

But that your choice th' unkindness doth improve, In whom a cold-respect were treason to

And dereliction adds to your remove. A father's ashes, greater than to you;

ROCHESTER, of Wadham College. Whose one ambition 't is for to be known, By daring loyalty, your Wilmot's son. Nadh. Coll.






OME few, from wit, have this true maxim


“ That 't is still better to be pleas'd than not;" SACRED MAJESTY THE QUEEN. And therefore never their own torment plot. MOTHER,

While the malicious Critics still agree
To loath each play they come and pay to sec.

The firit know 'tis a meaner part of sense EATH OF MARY, PRINCESS OF ORANGE.

To find a fault, than talte an excellence : RESPITE, great queen, your just and hasty Therefore they praise, and strive to like, while Chere's no infection lodges in our tears.

Are dully vain of being hard to please. "hough our unhappy air be arm’d with death, Poets and women have an equal right et fighs have an untainted guiltless breath. To hate the du!l, who, dead to all delight, h! itay a while, and teach your equal skill Feel pain alone, and have no joy but spight. o understand, and to support our ill.

'Twas impotence did first this vice begin; ou that in mighty wrongs an age have spent, Fools censure wit, as old men rail at sin: ind seem to have out-liv'd ev'n banishment : Who envy pleasure which they cannot taste, Vhom traiterous mischief fought its earliest prey, And, good for nothing, would be wise at last. Vhen to most sacred blood it made its way;

Since therefore to the women it appears, und did thereby its black design impart,

That all the enemies of wit are theirs, o take his head, that wounded first his heart : Our poet the dull herd no longer fears. ou that unmov'd great Charles's ruin stood, Whate'er his fate may prove, 'twill be his pride ben three great nations funk bencath the load; To stand or fall with bcauty on his side.

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