No More Learning

Your theories are here to practice brought,
As in mechanic operations wrought;
And man, the little world, before you set,
As once the sphere of crystal[341] shewed the great.
Blest sure are you above all mortal kind,
If to your fortunes you can suit your mind;
Content to see, and shun, those ills we show,
And crimes on theatres alone to know.
With joy we bring what our dead authors writ,
And beg from you the value of their wit:
That Shakespeare's, Fletcher's, and great Jonson's claim,
May be renewed from those who gave them fame.
None of our living poets dare appear;
For muses so severe are worshipped here,
That, conscious of their faults, they shun the eye, }
And, as profane, from sacred places fly, }
Rather than see the offended God, and die. }
We bring no imperfections, but our own;
Such faults as made are by the makers shown;
And you have been so kind, that we may boast,
The greatest judges still can pardon most.
Poets must stoop, when they would please our pit,
Debased even to the level of their wit;
Disdaining that, which yet they know will take,
Hating themselves what their applause must make.
But when to praise from you they would aspire,
Though they, like eagles, mount, your Jove is higher.
So far your knowledge all their power transcends,
As what should be, beyond what is, extends.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 341: Its properties are thus described by Spenser:

It vertue had to show in perfect sight
Whatever thing was in the world contained,
Betwixt the lowest earth and heaven's height,
So that it to the looker appertained.
Whatever foe had wrought, or friend designed,
Therein discovered was ne ought mote pass,
Ne ought in secret from the same remained,
Forthy it round, and hollow-shaped was,
Like to the world itself, and seemed a world of glass.

Such was the glassy globe that Merlin made,
And gave unto King Ryence for his guard.

_Fairy Queen_, Book iii. Canto 2.
]




EPILOGUE

SPOKEN

AT OXFORD, BY MRS MARSHALL.


_The date of this Epilogue is fixed by that of Bathurst's
vice-chancellorship_, _which lasted from 3d October_, 1673, _to 9th
October_ 1675.

Oft has our poet wished, this happy seat
Might prove his fading muse's last retreat:
I wondered at his wish, but now I find
He sought for quiet, and content of mind;
Which noiseful towns, and courts, can never know,
And only in the shades, like laurels, grow.
Youth, ere it sees the world, here studies rest,
And age, returning thence, concludes it best.
What wonder if we court that happiness
Yearly to share, which hourly you possess,
Teaching e'en you, while the vext world we show,
Your peace to value more, and better know?
'Tis all we can return for favours past,
Whose holy memory shall ever last,
For patronage from him whose care presides
O'er every noble art, and every science guides;[342]
Bathurst, a name the learned with reverence know,
And scarcely more to his own Virgil owe;
Whose age enjoys but what his youth deserved,
To rule those muses whom before he served.
His learning, and untainted manners too,
We find, Athenians, are derived to you;
Such antient hospitality there rests }
In yours, as dwelt in the first Grecian breasts, }
Whose kindness was religion to their guests. }
Such modesty did to our sex appear, }
As, had there been no laws, we need not fear, }
Since each of you was our protector here. }
Converse so chaste, and so strict virtue shown,
As might Apollo with the muses own.
Till our return, we must despair to find
Judges so just, so knowing, and so kind.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 342: Ralph Bathurst, thus highly distinguished by our author,
was a distinguished character of the age. He was uncle to Allen, the
first Lord Bathurst. He was born in 1620, and bred to the church, but
abandoned divinity for the pursuit of medicine, which he practised
until the Restoration, when he resumed his clerical character. In 1663
he became head of Trinity college, Oxford, into the court and chapel
of which he introduced the beauties of classical architecture, to
rival, if it were possible, the magnificence of the Gothic edifices
by which it is surrounded. In 1673, he had the honour to be appointed
vice-chancellor; an office which he retained for two years. During
his execution of this duty he is said to have reformed many abuses
which had crept into the university; and by liberal benefactions
added considerably to the prosperity of literature. Anthony Wood, who
had some private reason for disliking him, and who, moreover, was as
determined an enemy to the fair sex as ever harboured in a cloister,
picked a quarrel with Bathurst's wife, as he could find no reasonable
fault with the vice-chancellor himself. "Dr Bathurst took his place
of vice-chancellor; a man of good parts, and able to do good things;
but he has a wife that scorns that he should be in print; a scornful
woman! scorns that he was dean of Wells: no need of marrying such a
woman, who is so conceited, that she thinks herself fit to govern a
college, or university. "--Perhaps the countenance given by Bathurst
to the theatre, for which Dryden here expresses his gratitude, might
not tend to conciliate the good will of Anthony, who quarrelled
with his sister-in-law by refusing to treat her to the play. But it
agreed well with the character of Bathurst, who was not only a patron
of literature in all its branches, but himself an excellent Latin
poet, as his verses prefixed to Hobbes' "Leviathan," fully testify;
and as good an English poet as most of his contemporaries. He died
in his eighty-fourth year, 1704. Warton has given us the following
character of his Latin compositions, for which Dryden has celebrated
him so highly: "His Latin orations are wonderful specimens of wit and
antithesis, which were the delight of his age. They want, upon the
whole, the purity and simplicity of Tully's eloquence, but even exceed
the sententious smartness of Seneca, and the surprising turns of Pliny.
They are perpetually spirited, and discover an uncommon quickness of
thought. The manner is concise and abrupt, but yet perspicuous and
easy: His allusions are delicate, and his observations sensible and
animated; his sentiments of congratulation, or indignation, are equally
forcible: his compliments are most elegantly turned, and his satire is
most ingeniously severe. These compositions are extremely agreeable to
read, but, in the present improvement of classical taste, not so proper
to be imitated. "--_Life of Bathurst, prefixed to his Literary Remains,
published under the inspection of Mr Warton. _]




ORIGINAL

PROLOGUE TO CIRCE,

BY

DR CHARLES D'AVENANT, 1675.


_Dr Charles D'Avenant, the author of "Circe," was son of the
Rare Sir William D'Avenant, whom he succeeded as manager of the
Duke's company. He practised physic in Doctor's Commons, which
he afterwards abandoned for politics. He became a member of
Parliament, and inspector of the exports and imports, of which
office he died possessed in_ 1714. _He wrote many tracts upon
political subjects, especially those connected with the revenue.
"Circe," his only drama, is an opera, to which Bannister composed
the music. Besides the Prologue by our author, it was honoured by
an Epilogue by the famous Rochester, and thus graced was received
favourably. It contains some good writing, considering it was
composed at the age of nineteen; a circumstance alluded to in the
following Prologue. The original Prologue is from the 4to edition
of "_Circe_," _London_, 1677. _It was afterwards much improved, or
rather entirely re-written, by our author. _

Were you but half so wise as you're severe,
Our youthful poet should not need to fear;
To his green years your censures you would suit,
Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit.
The sex, that best does pleasure understand,
Will always chuse to err on t'other hand.
They check not him that's aukward in delight,
But clap the young rogue's cheek, and set him right.
Thus heartened well, and fleshed upon his prey,
The youth may prove a man another day.
For your own sakes, instruct him when he's out,
You'll find him mend his work at every bout.
When some young lusty thief is passing by, }
How many of your tender kind will cry,-- }
"A proper fellow! pity he should die! }
He might be saved, and thank us for our pains,
There's such a stock of love within his veins. "
These arguments the women may persuade,
But move not you, the brothers of the trade,
Who, scattering your infection through the pit, }
With aching hearts and empty purses sit, }
To take your dear five shillings worth of wit. }
The praise you give him, in your kindest mood,
Comes dribbling from you, just like drops of blood;
And then you clap so civilly, for fear
The loudness might offend your neighbour's ear,
That we suspect your gloves are lined within,
For silence sake, and cotton'd next the skin.
From these usurpers we appeal to you,
The only knowing, only judging few;
You, who in private have this play allowed,
Ought to maintain your suffrage to the crowd.
The captive, once submitted to your bands,
You should protect from death by vulgar hands.




PROLOGUE TO CIRCE,

AS CORRECTED BY DRYDEN.


Were you but half so wise as you're severe,
Our youthful poet should not need to fear;
To his green years your censures you would suit,
Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit.
The sex, that best does pleasure understand,
Will always choose to err on t'other hand.
They check not him that's aukward in delight,
But clap the young rogue's cheek, and set him right.
Thus heartened well, and fleshed upon his prey,
The youth may prove a man another day.
Your Ben and Fletcher, in their first young flight,
Did no Volpone, nor no Arbaces write;[343]
But hopped about, and short excursions made }
From bough to bough, as if they were afraid, }
And each was guilty of some Slighted Maid. [344] }
Shakespeare's own muse her Pericles first bore;[345]
The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor:
'Tis miracle to see a first good play;
All hawthorns do not bloom on Christmas-day. [346]
A slender poet must have time to grow,
And spread and burnish as his brothers do.
Who still looks lean, sure with some pox is curst,
But no man can be Falstaff-fat at first.
Then damn not, but indulge his rude essays,
Encourage him, and bloat him up with praise,
That he may get more bulk before he dies;
He's not yet fed enough for sacrifice.
Perhaps, if now your grace you will not grudge,
He may grow up to write, and you to judge.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 343: Characters in Jonson's "Volpone," and Fletcher's "King
and no King," which plays are justly held the master-pieces of these
authors. ]

[Footnote 344: The "Slighted Maid" was a contemporary drama, written
by Sir Richard Stapylton, of which Dryden elsewhere takes occasion
to speak in terms of contempt. See the _Parallel betwixt Poetry and
Painting_. ]

[Footnote 345: This opinion seems to be solely founded on the
inferiority of "Pericles," to the other plays of Shakspeare; an
inferiority so great, as to warrant very strong doubts of its being the
legitimate offspring of his muse at all. ]

[Footnote 346: Alluding to the legend of the Glastonbury thorn,
supposed to bloom on Christmas day. ]




EPILOGUE

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN BY

THE LADY HEN. MAR. WENTWORTH.

WHEN CALISTO WAS ACTED AT COURT, IN 1675.


"_Calisto, or the Chaste Nymph_," _was a masque written by John
Crowne, who, by the interference of Rochester, was employed to
compose such an entertainment to be exhibited at court, though this
was an encroachment on the office of Dryden, the poet laureat.
The principal characters were represented by the daughters of the
Duke of York, and the first nobility. The Lady Mary, afterwards
Queen, to whom the masque was dedicated, acted Calisto; Nyphe was
represented by the Lady Anne, who also succeeded to the throne;
Jupiter, by Lady Harriot Wentworth; Psecas, by Lady Mary Mordaunt;
Diana, by Mrs Blague, and Mercury by Mrs Sarah Jennings, afterwards
Duchess of Marlborough. Among the attendant nymphs and dancers were
the Countesses of Pembroke and of Derby, Lady Catharine Herbert,
Mrs Fitzgerald, and Mrs Fraser. The male dancers were the Duke
of Monmouth, Viscount Dunblaine, Lord Daincourt, and others of
the first quality. Although the exhibition of this masque, which
it was the privilege of his office to have written, must have
been somewhat galling to Dryden, we see that he so far suppressed
his feelings as to compose the following Epilogue, which, to his
farther mortification, was rejected, through the interference of
Rochester. _

_The Lady Henrietta Maria Wentworth, Baroness of Nettlested, who
acted the part of Jupiter on the present occasion, afterwards
adapted her conduct to that of Calisto, and became the mistress of
the Duke of Monmouth. He was so passionately attached to her, that
upon the scaffold he vindicated their intercourse by some very warm
and enthusiastic expressions, and could by no means be prevailed on
to express any repentance of it as unlawful. This lady died about
a year after the execution of her unfortunate lover_, _in_ 1685.
_Her mother, Lady Wentworth, ordered a monument of L. _ 2000 _value
to be erected over her in the church of Teddington, Bedfordshire. _

As Jupiter I made my court in vain;
I'll now assume my native shape again.
I'm weary to be so unkindly used,
And would not be a God, to be refused.
State grows uneasy when it hinders love;
A glorious burden, which the wise remove.
Now, as a nymph, I need not sue, nor try
The force of any lightning but the eye.
Beauty and youth, more than a god command;
No Jove could e'er the force of these withstand.
'Tis here that sovereign power admits dispute;
Beauty sometimes is justly absolute.
Our sullen Cato's, whatsoe'er they say,
Even while they frown and dictate laws, obey.
You, mighty sir, our bonds more easy make,
And, gracefully, what all must suffer, take;
Above those forms the grave affect to wear,
For 'tis not to be wise to be severe.
True wisdom may some gallantry admit,
And soften business with the charms of wit.
These peaceful triumphs with your cares you bought,
And from the midst of fighting nations brought. [347]
You only hear it thunder from afar,
And sit, in peace, the arbiter of war:
Peace, the loathed manna, which hot brains despise,
You knew its worth, and made it early prize;
And in its happy leisure, sit and see
The promises of more felicity;
Two glorious nymphs of your own godlike line,
Whose morning rays, like noontide, strike and shine;[348]
Whom you to suppliant monarchs shall dispose,
To bind your friends, and to disarm your foes.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 347: The war between France and the confederates was now
raging on the Continent. ]

[Footnote 348: The glorious nymphs, afterwards Queens Anne and Mary,
both lived to exclude their own father and his son from the throne.
Derrick, I suppose, alluded to this circumstance, when in the next line
he read _supplant_ for _suppliant_ monarchs. ]




EPILOGUE

TO THE

MAN OF MODE; OR SIR FOPLING FLUTTER.

BY

SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE, 1676.


_This play, which long maintained a high degree of reputation
on the stage, presents us with the truest picture of what was
esteemed good breeding and wit in the reign of Charles II. All
the characters, from Dorimant down to the Shoemaker, were either
really drawn from the life, or depicted so accurately according
to the manners of the times, that each was instantly ascribed to
some individual. Sir Fopling Flutter, in particular, was supposed
to represent Sir George Hewit, mentioned in the Essay on Satire,
and who seems to have been one of the most choice coxcombs of
the period. A very severe criticism in the_ Spectator, _pointing
out the coarseness as well as the immorality of this celebrated
performance, had a great effect in diminishing its popularity. The
satire being in fact personal, it followed as a matter of course,
that the Prologue should disclaim all personality, that being an
attribute to be discovered by the audience, but not avowed by
the poet. Dryden has accomplished this with much liveliness, and
enumerates for our edification the special fopperies which went
to make up a complete fine gentleman in_ 1676--_differing only in
form from those required in_ 1806, _excepting that the ancient beau
needed, to complete his character, a slight sprinkling of literary
accomplishment, which the modern has discarded with the "_sacred
periwig_. "_

Most modern wits such monstrous fools have shown,
They seem not of heaven's making, but their own.
Those nauseous Harlequins in farce may pass;
But there goes more to a substantial ass:
Something of man must be exposed to view,
That, gallants, they may more resemble you.
Sir Fopling is a fool so nicely writ,
The ladies would mistake him for a wit;
And, when he sings, talks loud, and cocks, would cry,
I vow, methinks, he's pretty company!
So brisk, so gay, so travelled, so refined,
As he took pains to graff upon his kind.
True fops help nature's work, and go to school,
To file and finish God Almighty's fool.
Yet none Sir Fopling him, or him can call;
He's knight o' the shire, and represents ye all.
From each he meets he culls whate'er he can;
Legion's his name, a people in a man.
His bulky folly gathers as it goes,
And, rolling o'er you, like a snow-ball, grows.
His various modes from various fathers follow;
One taught the toss, and one the new French wallow;
His sword-knot this, his cravat that designed;
And this the yard-long snake he twirls behind.
From one the sacred periwig he gained,
Which wind ne'er blew, nor touch of hat profaned.
Another's diving bow he did adore,
Which with a shog casts all the hair before,
Till he, with full decorum, brings it back,
And rises with a water-spaniel shake.
As for his songs, the ladies' dear delight,
These sure he took from most of you who write.
Yet every man is safe from what he feared;
For no one fool is hunted from the herd.




EPILOGUE

TO

MITHRIDATES, KING OF PONTUS.

BY

MR N. LEE, 1678.


_This, as appears from the Prologue preserved in the Luttrell
collection, was the first play acted in the season_, 1698-9. _It has,
like all Lee's productions, no small share of bombast, with some
strikingly beautiful passages. _

You've seen a pair of faithful lovers die; }
And much you care; for most of you will cry, }
'Twas a just judgment on their constancy. }
For, heaven be thanked, we live in such an age,
When no man dies for love, but on the stage:
And e'en those martyrs are but rare in plays;
A cursed sign how much true faith decays.
Love is no more a violent desire;
'Tis a mere metaphor, a painted fire.
In all our sex, the name examined well,
'Tis pride to gain, and vanity to tell.
In woman, 'tis of subtle interest made;
Curse on the punk, that made it first a trade!
She first did wit's prerogative remove,
And made a fool presume to prate of love.
Let honour and preferment go for gold,
But glorious beauty is not to be sold;
Or, if it be, 'tis at a rate so high,
That nothing but adoring it should buy.
Yet the rich cullies may their boasting spare;
They purchase but sophisticated ware.
'Tis prodigality that buys deceit,
Where both the giver and the taker cheat.
Men but refine on the old half-crown way;
And women fight, like Swissers, for their pay.




PROLOGUE

TO

THE TRUE WIDOW, 1679.


At this period Shadwell and our author were on such good terms, that
Dryden obliged him with the following Prologue to the "True Widow;" a
play intended to display the humours of various men of the town. Thus
we have in the Dramatis Personæ,--

"_Selfish. _ A coxcomb, conceited of his beauty, wit, and breeding,
thinking all women in love with him, always admiring and talking to
himself.

_Old Maggot. _ An old, credulous fellow; a great enemy to wit, and a
lover of business for business-sake.

_Young Maggot. _ His nephew: an inns-of-court man, who neglects law,
and runs mad after wit, pretending much to love, and both in spite of
nature, since his face makes him unfit for one, and his brains for the
other.

_Prig. _ A coxcomb, who never thinks or talks of any thing but dogs,
horses, hunting, hawking, bowls, tennis, and gaming; a rook, a most
noisy jockey.

_Lump. _ A methodical coxcomb, as regular as a clock, and goes as true
as a pendulum; one that knows what he shall do every day of his life by
his almanack, where he sets down all his actions before-hand; a mortal
enemy to wit. "

* * * * *

So many characters, so minutely described, lead us to suppose, that
some personal satire lay concealed under them; and, accordingly,
the Prologue seems to have been written with a view of deprecating
the resentment which this idea might have excited in the audience.
We learn, however, by the Preface, that the piece was unfavourably
received, "either through the calamity of the time (during the Popish
plot), which made people not care for diversions, or through the anger
of a great many who thought themselves concerned in the satire. " The
piece is far from being devoid of merit; and the characters, though
drawn in Shadwell's coarse, harsh manner, are truly comic. That of
the jockey, since so popular, seems to have been brought upon the
stage for the first time in the "True Widow. " It is remarkable, that,
though Dryden writes the Prologue, the piece contains a sly hit at
him. Maggot, finding himself married to a portionless jilt, says, "I
must e'en write hard for the play-house; I may get the reversion of
the poet-laureat's place. " This, however, might be only meant as a
good-humoured pleasantry among friends.

After the deadly quarrel with Shadwell, our author seems to have
resumed his property in the Prologue, as it is prefixed to "The Widow
Ranter, or The History of Bacon in Virginia," a tragi-comedy by Mrs
Behn, acted in 1690.




PROLOGUE

TO

THE TRUE WIDOW.

BY

THOMAS SHADWELL, 1679.


Heaven save ye, gallants, and this hopeful age!
Y'are welcome to the downfall of the stage.
The fools have laboured long in their vocation,
And vice, the manufacture of the nation,
O'erstocks the town so much, and thrives so well,
That fops and knaves grow drugs, and will not sell.
In vain our wares on theatres are shown,
When each has a plantation of his own.
His cause ne'er fails; for whatsoe'er he spends,
There's still God's plenty for himself and friends.
Should men be rated by poetic rules,
Lord, what a poll would there be raised from fools!
Meantime poor wit prohibited must lie,
As if 'twere made some French commodity.
Fools you will have, and raised at vast expence;
And yet, as soon as seen, they give offence.
Time was, when none would cry,--That oaf was me;
But now you strive about your pedigree.
Bauble and cap[349] no sooner are thrown down,
But there's a muss[350] of more than half the town.
Each one will challenge a child's part at least;
A sign the family is well encreased.
Of foreign cattle there's no longer need,
When we're supplied so fast with English breed.
Well! flourish, countrymen; drink, swear, and roar;
Let every free-born subject keep his whore,
And wandering in the wilderness about,
At end of forty years not wear her out.
But when you see these pictures, let none dare
To own beyond a limb, or single share;
For where the punk is common, he's a sot,
Who needs will father what the parish got.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 349: The fool's cap and bauble, with which the ancient jester
was equipped. ]

[Footnote 350: A scramble. ]




PROLOGUE

TO

CÆSAR BORGIA.

BY MR N. LEE, 1680.


_This play of Nathaniel Lee's was first acted at the Duke's
theatre, in_ 1680. _It is founded on the history of the natural son
of Pope Alexander VI. The play fell soon into disrepute; for Cibber
tells us, that when Powel was jealous of his fine dress in Lord
Foppington, and complained bitterly, that he had not so good a suit
to play "Cæsar Borgia," this bouncing play could do little more
than pay candles and fiddles. _--Apology.

The unhappy man, who once has trailed a pen,
Lives not to please himself, but other men;
Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood,
Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.
What praise soe'er the poetry deserve,
Yet every fool can bid the poet starve.
That fumbling letcher to revenge is bent,
Because he thinks himself, or whore, is meant:
Name but a cuckold, all the city swarms;
From Leadenhall to Ludgate is in arms.
Were there no fear of Antichrist, or France,
In the blest time poor poets live by chance.
Either you come not here, or, as you grace }
Some old acquaintance, drop into the place, }
Careless and qualmish with a yawning face: }
You sleep o'er wit,--and by my troth you may;
Most of your talents lie another way.
You love to hear of some prodigious tale,
The bell that tolled alone, or Irish whale. [351]
News is your food, and you enough provide,
Both for yourselves, and all the world beside.
One theatre there is, of vast resort,
Which whilome of Requests was called the Court[352];
But now the great exchange of news 'tis hight,
And full of hum and buzz from noon till night.
Up stairs and down you run, as for a race,
And each man wears three nations in his face.
So big you look, though claret you retrench,
That, armed with bottled ale, you huff the French.
But all your entertainment still is fed
By villains in your own dull island bred.
Would you return to us, we dare engage
To shew you better rogues upon the stage.
You know no poison but plain ratsbane here;
Death's more refined, and better bred elsewhere.
They have a civil way in Italy, }
By smelling a perfume to make you die; }
A trick would make you lay your snuff-box by. }
Murder's a trade, so known and practised there,
That 'tis infallible as is the chair.
But mark their feast, you shall behold such pranks!
The pope says grace, but 'tis the devil gives thanks. [353]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 351: In Dryden's days, as in our own, there were provided
by the hawkers a plentiful assortment of wonders and prodigies to
captivate the people; with this difference, that, in that earlier
period, the readers and believers of these wonders were more numerous,
and of higher rank. I cannot point out the particular prodigies
referred to; but I suppose they were of the same description as "The
wonderful blazing star; with the dreadful apparition of two armies in
the air; the one out of the north, the other out of the south, seen on
the 17th December, 1680, betwixt four and five o'clock in the evening,
at Ottery, ten miles eastward of Exon;" or as "The strange and dreadful
relation of a horrible tempest of thunder and lightning, and of strange
apparitions in the air, accompanied with whirlwinds, gusts of hail and
rain, which happened the 10th of June, 1680, at a place near Weatherby,
in the county of York: with the account how the top of strong oak,
containing one load of wood, was taken off by a sheet of fire, wrapped
in a whirlwind, and carried through the air, half a mile distant from
the place, &c. As, likewise, another strange relation of a monstrous
child with two heads, four arms, four legs, and all things thereunto
belonging; born at a village, called Ill-Brewers, in the county of
Somerset, on the 19th of May last, with several other circumstances and
curious observations, to the wonder of all that have beheld it. "]

[Footnote 352: The court of Requests was a general rendezvous for the
news-mongers, politicians, and busy bodies of the time. North says,
"It was observable of Oates, that while he had his liberty, as in King
Charles's time and King William's, especially the latter, he never
failed to give his attendance in the court of Requests, and in the
lobbies, to solicit hard in all points under deliberation that might
terminate in the prejudice of the church, crown, or of any gentlemen
of the loyal, or church of England party. " Swift, in his journal to
Stella, makes frequent mention of the Court of Requests as a scene of
political bustle and intrigue. ]

[Footnote 353: The Popish plot being now in full force and credit,
our author here, as in the "Spanish Friar," flatters the universal
prejudice entertained against the Catholics. ]




PROLOGUE

TO

SOPHONISBA; SPOKEN AT OXFORD,

1680.


_Sophonisba was play of N. Lee, first acted about_ 1676. _It is in
the taste of the French stage, and of the romances of Calprenede
and Scuderi. Hannibal and Massinissa are introduced in the
character of whining love-sick adorers of relentless beauty. This
prevailing taste is admirably ridiculed by Boileau, in a dialogue
where a scene is laid in the infernal regions. In the prologue
spoken at Oxford, which was always famous for Tory principles, our
author ventures to ridicule the Popish Plot, and to predict the
consequences of the predominance of fanatical principles to the
studies cultivated in the University. _

Thespis, the first professor of our art,
At country wakes, sung ballads from a cart.
To prove this true, if Latin be no trespass,
_Dicitur et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis. _
But Æschylus, says Horace in some page,
Was the first mountebank that trod the stage:
Yet Athens never knew your learned sport,
Of tossing poets in a tennis-court[354].
But 'tis the talent of our English nation,
Still to be plotting some new reformation;
And few years hence, if anarchy goes on,
Jack Presbyter shall here erect his throne,
Knock out a tub with preaching once a day,
And every prayer be longer than a play.
Then all your heathen wits shall go to pot,
For disbelieving of a Popish-plot;
Your poets shall be used like infidels,
And worst, the author of the Oxford bells;[355]
Nor should we 'scape the sentence, to depart,
Even in our first original, a cart;
No zealous brother there would want a stone,
To maul us cardinals, and pelt pope Joan.
Religion, learning, wit, would be supprest,
Rags of the whore, and trappings of the beast;
Scot, Suarez, Tom of Aquin,[356] must go down,
As chief supporters of the triple crown;
And Aristotle's for destruction ripe;
Some say, he called the soul an organ-pipe,
Which, by some little help of derivation,
Shall then be proved a pipe of inspiration.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 354: Apparently, a tennis-court was the place where the
temporary stage was erected at Oxford. ]

[Footnote 355: Probably some pasquinade against the Whigs, then current
in the university. ]

[Footnote 356: Noted school divines, whose works (the greater was the
pity) were then in high esteem in the university. ]




A PROLOGUE.


_This Prologue was obviously spoken in_ 1680-1, _from its frequent
reference to the politics of that period: but upon what particular
occasion I have not discovered. _

If yet there be a few that take delight }
In that which reasonable men should write, }
To them alone we dedicate this night. }
The rest may satisfy their curious itch
With city-gazettes, or some factious speech,[357]
Or whate'er libel, for the public good,
Stirs up the shrove-tide crew to fire and blood.
Remove your benches, you apostate pit,
And take, above, twelve pennyworth of wit;
Go back to your dear dancing on the rope,
Or see what's worse, the devil and the pope. [358]
The plays, that take on our corrupted stage,
Methinks, resemble the distracted age;
Noise, madness, all unreasonable things,
That strike at sense, as rebels do at kings.
The style of forty-one our poets write,
And you are grown to judge like forty-eight. [359]
Such censures our mistaking audience make,
That 'tis almost grown scandalous to take.
They talk of fevers that infect the brains;
But nonsense is the new disease that reigns.
Weak stomachs, with a long disease opprest,
Cannot the cordials of strong wit digest;
Therefore thin nourishment of farce ye choose,
Decoctions of a barley-water muse.
A meal of tragedy would make ye sick,
Unless it were a very tender chick.
Some scenes in sippets would be worth our time;
Those would go down; some love that's poached in rhime:
If these should fail----
We must lie down, and, after all our cost,
Keep holiday, like watermen in frost;
While you turn players on the world's great stage,
And act yourselves the farce of your own age.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 357: The City Gazettes were such publications as the Petition
of the City, Mayor, and Aldermen, for the sitting of parliament on the
13th January, 1680, which is printed with the city arms prefixed, by
a solemn order of the common council, and an appointment by the Lord
Mayor, that Samuel Roycroft, printer to the city, do print the same,
pursuant to order, and that no other person presume to do so. The
"factious speech" was probably that of Shaftesbury, which was burned by
the hands of the common hangman. ]

[Footnote 358: The Pope-burning, so often mentioned. ]

[Footnote 359: The meaning is, that the poets rebel against sense and
criticism, like the parliament, in 1641, against the king; and that the
audience judge as ill as those, who, in 1648, condemned Charles to the
block. The parallel between the political disputes in 1680, and 1681,
and those which preceded the great civil war, was fashionable among
the Tories. A Whig author, who undertakes "to answer the clamours of
the malicious, and to inform the ignorant on this subject," complains,
"It hath been all the clamour of late, _forty-one_, _forty-one_ is now
coming to be acted over again; we are running in the very same steps,
in the same path and road, to undo the nation, and to ruin kingly
government, as our predecessors did in _forty_, _and forty-one_. We
run the same courses, we take the same measures; _latet anguis in
herba_; beware of the Presbyterian serpent, who lurks in the affairs of
_eighty_, being the very same complexion, form, and shape, as that of
forty and forty one. "--_The Disloyal Forty and Forty-one, and the Loyal
Eighty, presented to public view. _ Folio 1680. ]




EPILOGUE

SPOKEN AT

MITHRIDATES, KING OF PONTUS,

THE FIRST PLAY ACTED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, 1681.


_This Epilogue, which occurs in Luttrell's collection with many
marginal corrections, seems to have been spoken by Goodman, who is
mentioned with great respect by Cibber in his "Apology. " It is now
for the first time received into Dryden's poems. _

Pox on this playhouse! 'tis an old tired jade,
'Twill do no longer, we must force a trade.
What if we all turn witnesses o' th' plot? --
That's overstockt, there's nothing to be got.
Shall we take orders? --That will parts require, }
And colleges give no degrees for hire; }
Would Salamanca were a little nigher! }
Will nothing do? --O, now 'tis found, I hope;
Have not you seen the dancing of the rope?
When André's[360] wit was clean run off the score,
And Jacob's capering tricks could do no more,
A damsel does to the ladder's top advance,
And with two heavy buckets drags a dance;
The yawning crowd perk up to see the sight,
And slaver'd at the mouth for vast delight.
Oh, friend, there's nothing, to enchant the mind,
Nothing like that sweet sex to draw mankind:
The foundered horse, that switching will not stir,
Trots to the mare afore, without a spur.
Faith, I'll go scour the scene-room, and engage
Some toy within to save the falling stage. [_Exit. _

_Re-enters with Mrs_ Cox.

Who have we here again? what nymph's i' th' stocks?
Your most obedient slave, sweet madam Cox.
You'd best be coy, and blush for a pretence;
For shame! say something in your own defence!

_Mrs Cox. _ What shall I say? I have been hence so long,
I've e'en almost forgot my mother-tongue;
If I can act, I wish I were ten fathom
Beneath----

_Goodman. _ O Lord! pray, no swearing, madam!

_Mrs Cox. _ If I had sworn, yet sure, to serve the nation,
I could find out some mental reservation.
Well, in plain terms, gallants, without a sham,
Will you be pleased to take me as I am?
Quite out of countenance, with a downcast look,
Just like a truant that returns to book:
Yet I'm not old; but, if I were, this place
Ne'er wanted art to piece a ruined face.
When greybeards governed, I forsook the stage;
You know 'tis piteous work to act with age.
Though there's no sense among these beardless boys,
There's what we women love, that's mirth and noise.
These young beginners may grow up in time,
And the devil's in't, if I am past my prime.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 360: Alluding to St André, the famous dancing master, and
Jacob Hall, the performer on the slack rope. ]




EPILOGUE

TO A

TRAGEDY CALLED TAMERLANE, 1681.

BY CHARLES SAUNDERS.


_This play was highly applauded at its first representation.
Langbaine, following perhaps this epilogue, tells us, that the
genius of the author budded as early as that of the incomparable
Cowley; and adds, in evidence of farther sympathy, that Saunders
was, like him, a king's scholar. The play is said to be taken from
a novel called "Tamerlane and Asteria," and was complimented with
a copy of commendatory verses by Mr Banks. It does not appear that
Saunders wrote any thing else. _

Ladies, the beardless author of this day
Commends to you the fortune of his play.
A woman-wit has often graced the stage,
But he's the first boy-poet of our age.
Early as is the year his fancies blow,
Like young Narcissus peeping through the snow.
Thus Cowley[361] blossomed soon, yet flourished long;
This is as forward, and may prove as strong.
Youth with the fair should always favour find,
Or we are damned dissemblers of our kind.
What's all this love they put into our parts?
'Tis but the pit-a-pat of two young hearts.
Should hag and grey-beard make such tender moan, }
Faith, you'd even trust them to themselves alone, }
And cry, "Let's go, here's nothing to be done. " }
Since love's our business, as 'tis your delight,
The young, who best can practise, best can write.
What though he be not come to his full power?
He's mending and improving every hour.
You sly she-jockies of the box and pit,
Are pleased to find a hot unbroken wit;
By management he may in time be made,
But there's no hopes of an old battered jade;
Faint and unnerved, he runs into a sweat,
And always fails you at the second heat.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 361: Cowley published in his sixteenth year, a book called
"Poetical Blossoms. "]




PROLOGUE

TO THE

UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1681.


_This Prologue appears to have been spoken at Oxford shortly after
the dissolution of the famous Parliament held there, March, 1680-1.
From the following couplet, it would seem that the players had made
an unsuccessful attempt to draw houses during the short sitting of
that Parliament:_

We looked what representatives would bring,
But they served us just as they did the king.

_At that time a greater stage was opened for the public amusement,
and the mimic theatre could excite little interest. _

_Dryden seems, though perhaps unconsciously, to have borrowed the
two first lines of this Prologue from Drayton:_

The Tuscan poet doth advance
The frantic Paladin of France.

_Nymphidia. _

The famed Italian muse, whose rhimes advance
Orlando, and the Paladins of France,
Records, that, when our wit and sense is flown,
'Tis lodged within the circle of the moon,
In earthern jars, which one, who thither soared,
Set to his nose, snuffed up, and was restored.
Whate'er the story be, the moral's true;
The wit we lost in town, we find in you.
Our poets their fled parts may draw from hence,
And fill their windy heads with sober sense
When London votes[362] with Southwark's disagree,
Here may they find their long lost loyalty.
Here busy senates, to the old cause inclined,
May snuff the votes their fellows left behind;
Your country neighbours, when their grain grows dear,
May come, and find their last provision here;
Whereas we cannot much lament our loss,
Who neither carried back, nor brought one cross.
We looked what representatives would bring,
But they helped us--just as they did the king.
Yet we despair not; for we now lay forth
The Sibyl's books to those who know their worth;
And though the first was sacrificed before,
These volumes doubly will the price restore.
Our poet bade us hope this grace to find,
To whom by long prescription you are kind.
He, whose undaunted Muse, with loyal rage,
Has never spared the vices of the age,
Here finding nothing that his spleen can raise,
Is forced to turn his satire into praise.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 362: The city of London had now declared against petitioning
for parliament. ]




PROLOGUE

TO THE

UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.


_This Prologue must have been spoken at Oxford during the residence
of the Duke of York in Scotland, in 1681-2. The humour turns upon
a part of the company having attended the Duke to Scotland, where,
among other luxuries little known to my countrymen, he introduced,
during his residence at Holy Rood House, the amusements of the
theatre. I can say little about the actors commemorated in the
following verses, excepting, that their stage was erected in the
tennis-court of the palace, which was afterwards converted into
some sort of manufactory, and finally, burned down many years
ago. Besides these deserters, whom Dryden has described very
ludicrously, he mentions a sort of strolling company, composed, it
would seem, of Irishmen, who had lately acted at Oxford. _

Discord, and plots, which have undone our age,
With the same ruin have o'erwhelmed the stage.
Our house has suffered in the common woe,
We have been troubled with Scotch rebels too.
Our brethren are from Thames to Tweed departed, }
And of our sisters, all the kinder-hearted }
To Edinburgh gone, or coached, or carted. }
With bonny bluecap there they act all night
For Scotch half-crown, in English three-pence hight.
One nymph, to whom fat Sir John Falstaff's lean,
There with her single person fills the scene.
Another, with long use and age decayed,
Dived here old woman, and rose there a maid.
Our trusty door-keepers of former time
There strut and swagger in heroic rhime.
Tack but a copper-lace to drugget suit,
And there's a hero made without dispute;
And that, which was a capon's tail before,
Becomes a plume for Indian emperor.
But all his subjects, to express the care
Of imitation go, like Indians, bare;
Laced linen there would be a dangerous thing; }
It might perhaps a new rebellion bring; }
The Scot, who wore it, would be chosen king. }
But why should I these renegades describe,
When you yourselves have seen a lewder tribe?
Teague has been here, and, to this learned pit,
With Irish action slandered English wit;
You have beheld such barbarous Macs appear,
As merited a second massacre;[363]
Such as, like Cain, were branded with disgrace,
And had their country stamped upon their face.
When strollers durst presume to pick your purse,
We humbly thought our broken troop not worse.
How ill soe'er our action may deserve,
Oxford's a place where wit can never starve.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 363: Alluding to the Irish massacre. ]




AN

EPILOGUE

FOR

THE KING'S HOUSE


_From the date of the various circumstances referred to, this
Epilogue seems to have been spoken in 1681-2. _

We act by fits and starts, like drowning men,
But just peep up, and then pop down again.
Let those who call us wicked change their sense,
For never men lived more on Providence.
Not lottery cavaliers[364] are half so poor,
Nor broken cits, nor a vacation whore;
Not courts, nor courtiers living on the rents
Of the three last ungiving parliaments;[365]
So wretched, that, if Pharaoh could divine, }
He might have spared his dream of seven lean kine, }
And changed his vision for the muses nine. }
The comet, that, they say, portends a dearth,
Was but a vapour drawn from playhouse earth;
Pent there since our last fire, and, Lilly says,[366]
Foreshows our change of state, and thin third-days.
'Tis not our want of wit that keeps us poor;
For then the printer's press would suffer more.
Their pamphleteers each day their venom spit;
They thrive by treason, and we starve by wit.
Confess the truth, which of you has not laid
Four farthings out to buy the Hatfield Maid? [367]
Or, which is duller yet, and more would spite us,
Democritus his wars with Heraclitus? [368]
Such are the authors, who have run us down,
And exercised you critics of the town.
Yet these are pearls to your lampooning rhimes,
Ye abuse yourselves more dully than the times.
Scandal, the glory of the English nation,
Is worn to rags, and scribbled out of fashion;
Such harmless thrusts, as if, like fencers wise,
They had agreed their play before their prize.
Faith, they may hang their harps upon their willows;
'Tis just like children when they box with pillows.
Then put an end to civil wars, for shame!
Let each knight-errant, who has wronged a dame,
Throw down his pen, and give her, as he can,
The satisfaction of a gentleman.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 364: The lottery cavaliers were the loyal indigent officers,
to whom the right of keeping lotteries was granted by patent in the
reign of Charles II. There are many proclamations in the gazettes of
the time against persons encroaching upon this exclusive privilege. ]

[Footnote 365: The "three ungiving parliaments" were that convoked
in 1679, and dissolved on the 10th July in the same year; that which
was held at Westminster 21st October, 1680, and dissolved on the 18th
January following; and, finally, the Oxford parliament, assembled 21st
March, 1680-1, and dissolved on the 28th of the same month. All these
parliaments refused supplies to the crown, until they should obtain
security, as they termed it, for the Protestant religion. ]

[Footnote 366: The famous astrologer Lilly is here mentioned
ironically. In his "Strange and wonderful prophecy, being a relation
of many universal accidents that will come to pass in the year 1681,
according to the prognostications of the celestial bodies, as well in
this our English nation, as in parts beyond the seas, with a sober
caution to all, by speedy repentance, to avert the judgments that are
impendent," I find "an account of the great stream of light, by some
termed a blazing star, which was seen in the south-west on Saturday
and Sunday, the 11th and 12th of this instant December, between
six and seven in the evening, with several judicial opinions and
conjectures on the same. " But the comet, mentioned in the text, may
be that which is noticed in "A strange and wonderful Trinity, or a
Triplicity of Stupendous Prodigies, consisting of a wonderful eclipse,
as well as of a wonderful comet, and of a wonderful conjunction, now
in its second return; seeing all these three prodigious wonders do
jointly portend wonderful events, all meeting together in a strange
harmonious triangle, and are all the three royal heralds successively
sent from the King of Heaven, to sound succeeding alarms for awakening
a slumbering world. _Beware the third time. _" 4to. London, 1683. This
comet is said to have appeared in October 1682. Various interpretations
were put upon these heavenly phenomena, by Gadbury, Lilly, Kirkby,
Whalley, and other Philo-maths, who were chiefly guided in their
predictions by their political attachments. Some insisted they meant
civil war, others foreign conquest; some that they presaged the
downfall of the Turk, others that of the Pope and French king; some
that they foretold dearth on the land, and others, the fertility of
the king's bed, by the birth of a son, to the exclusion of the Duke of
York. ]

[Footnote 367: This was one of the numerous devices used by the
partizans of Monmouth to strengthen his interest: "A relation was
published, in the name of one Elizabeth Freeman, afterwards called the
Maid of Hatfield, setting forth, That, on the 24th of January, the
appearance of a woman all in white, with a white veil over her face,
accosted her with these words: 'Sweetheart, the 15th day of May is
appointed for the royal blood to be poisoned. Be not afraid, for I am
sent to tell thee. ' That on the 25th, the same appearance stood before
her again, and she having then acquired courage enough to lay it under
the usual adjuration, in the name, &c. it assumed a more glorious
shape, and said in a harsher tone of voice: 'Tell King Charles from
me, and bid him not remove his parliament, and stand to his council:'
adding, 'do as I bid you. ' That on the 26th it appeared to her a third
time, but said only, 'do your message. ' And that on the next night,
when she saw it for the last time, it said nothing at all.

"Those who depend upon the people for support, must try all manners
of practices upon them; and such fooleries as these sometimes operate
more forcibly than expedients of a more rational kind. Care was,
besides, taken, to have this relation attested by Sir Joseph Jordan,
a justice of the peace, and the rector of Hatfield, Dr Lee, who was
one of the king's chaplains: Nay, the message was actually sent to his
majesty, and the whole forgery very officiously circulated all over the
kingdom. "--RALPH'S _Review of the Reigns of Charles II. and James II. _
Vol. I. p. 562.

The Tories, according to the custom of that time, endeavoured to
turn this apparition against those who invented it, and published an
ironical account of its appearance to Lady Gray, the supposed mistress
of the Duke of Monmouth. --See RALPH, _ibid. _ and this Work, Vol. IX. p.
276. ]

[Footnote 368: "Heraclitus Ridens" was a paper published weekly, by
L'Estrange, on the part of the court, and answered by one called
"Democritus" on that of the Whigs. ]




PROLOGUE

TO HIS

ROYAL HIGHNESS,

UPON HIS

FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE DUKE'S THEATRE AFTER HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND.

SPOKEN BY MR SMITH, 21st APRIL, 1682.


_The Duke's return from Scotland, and the shock which it gave
to the schemes of Shaftesbury and the Exclusionists, has been
mentioned at length in the Notes to the Second Part of "Absalom and
Achitophel,"_ Vol. ix. p. 402. _The passage upon which the note
is given, agrees with this Prologue, in representing the secret
enemies of the Duke of York as anxiously pressing forwards to greet
his return:_

While those that sought his absence to betray,
Press first, their nauseous false respects to pay;
Him still the officious hypocrites molest,
And with malicious duty break his rest.

Vol. ix. p. 344.

_The date of the Prologue, and the name of the speaker, are marked
on a copy in Mr Luttrell's collection. _

In those cold regions which no summers cheer,
Where brooding darkness covers half the year,
To hollow caves the shivering natives go,
Bears range abroad, and hunt in tracks of snow.
But when the tedious twilight wears away,
And stars grow paler at the approach of day,
The longing crowds to frozen mountains run,
Happy who first can see the glimmering sun;
The surly savage offspring disappear,
And curse the bright successor of the year.