No More Learning

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.
Yet, though rough bears in covert seek defence, }
White foxes stay, with seeming innocence; }
That crafty kind with day-light can dispense. }
Still we are thronged so full with Reynard's race,
That loyal subjects scarce can find a place;
Thus modest truth is cast behind the crowd,
Truth speaks too low, hypocrisy too loud.
Let them be first to flatter in success;
Duty can stay, but guilt has need to press.
Once, when true zeal the sons of God did call,
To make their solemn show at heaven's Whitehall,
The fawning Devil appeared among the rest,
And made as good a courtier as the best.
The friends of Job, who railed at him before,
Came cap in hand when he had three times more.
Yet late repentance may, perhaps, be true;
Kings can forgive, if rebels can but sue:
A tyrant's power in rigour is exprest;
The father yearns in the true prince's breast.
We grant, an o'ergrown Whig no grace can mend,
But most are babes, that know not they offend;
The crowd, to restless motion still inclined,
Are clouds, that rack according to the wind.
Driven by their chiefs, they storms of hailstones pour,
Then mourn, and soften to a silent shower.
O welcome to this much-offending land,
The prince that brings forgiveness in his hand!
Thus angels on glad messages appear,
Their first salute commands us not to fear;
Thus heaven, that could constrain us to obey, }
(With reverence if we might presume to say,) }
Seems to relax the rights of sovereign sway; }
Permits to man the choice of good and ill,
And makes us happy by our own free-will.




PROLOGUE

TO THE EARL OF ESSEX.

BY MR J. BANKS, 1682.

SPOKEN TO THE KING AND THE QUEEN AT THEIR COMING TO THE HOUSE.


When first the ark was landed on the shore,
And heaven had vowed to curse the ground no more;
When tops of hills the longing patriarch saw,
And the new scene of earth began to draw;
The dove was sent to view the waves decrease,
And first brought back to man the pledge of peace.
'Tis needless to apply, when those appear,
Who bring the olive, and who plant it here.
We have before our eyes the royal dove,
Still innocence is harbinger of love:
The ark is opened to dismiss the train,
And people with a better race the plain.
Tell me, ye powers, why should vain man pursue, }
With endless toil, each object that is new, }
And for the seeming substance leave the true? }
Why should he quit for hopes his certain good,
And loath the manna of his daily food?
Must England still the scene of changes be, }
Tost and tempestuous, like our ambient sea? }
Must still our weather and our wills agree? }
Without our blood our liberties we have;
Who, that is free, would fight to be a slave?
Or, what can wars to after-times assure,
Of which our present age is not secure?
All that our monarch would for us ordain,
Is but to enjoy the blessings of his reign.
Our land's an Eden, and the main's our fence,
While we preserve our state of innocence:
That lost, then beasts their brutal force employ,
And first their lord, and then themselves destroy.
What civil broils have cost, we know too well;
Oh! let it be enough that once we fell!
And every heart conspire, and every tongue,
Still to have such a king, and this king long.




PROLOGUE

TO THE

LOYAL BROTHER, OR THE PERSIAN PRINCE.


The "Loyal Brother, or the Persian Prince," was the first play of
Southerne, afterwards so deservedly famous as a tragic poet. It is said
to be borrowed from a novel, called, "Tachmas, Prince of Persia. " The
character of the Loyal Brother is obviously designed as a compliment to
the Duke of York, whose adherents and opponents now divided the nation.
Southerne was at this time but three-and-twenty. It is said, that, upon
offering Dryden five guineas for the following prologue, which had
hitherto been the usual compliment made him for such favours, the bard
returned the money; and added, "not that I do so out of disrespect to
you, young man, but the players have had my goods too cheap. In future,
I must have ten guineas. " Southerne was the first poet who drew large
profit from the author's nights; insomuch, that he is said to have
cleared by one play seven hundred pounds; a circumstance that greatly
surprised Dryden, who seldom gained by his best pieces more than a
seventh part of the sum. From these circumstances, Pope, in his verses
to Southerne on his birth-day, distinguishes him as

----Tom, whom heaven sent down to raise
The price of prologues and of plays.

The prologue, as might be expected, is very severe upon the Whigs; and
alludes to all the popular subjects of dispute between the factions.
The refusal of supplies, and the petition against the king's guards,
are slightly noticed, but the great pope-burning is particularly dwelt
upon; and probably the reader will be pleased with an opportunity of
comparing the account in the prologue with that given by Roger North,
who seems to have entertained the same fear with Dryden, that the
rabble might chuse to cry, God save the king, at Whitehall.

"But, to return to our tumults. --After it was found that there was to
be a reinforcement at the next anniversary, which was in 1682, it is
not to be thought that the court was asleep, or that the king would
not endeavour to put a stop to this brutal outrage. His majesty thought
fit to take the ordinary regular course; which was, to send for the
lord mayor, &c. and to charge him to prevent riots in the city. So
the lord mayor and sheriffs attended the king in council; and there
they were told, that dangerous tumults and disorders were designed
in the city upon the 17th of November next, at night, on pretence of
bonfires; and his majesty expected that they, who were entrusted with
the government of the city, for keeping the peace, should, by their
authority, prevent all such riotous disorders, which, permitted to
go on, was a misdemeanour of their whole body. Then one of them came
forward, and, in a whining tone, told the king, that they did not
apprehend any danger to his majesty, or the city, from these bonfires;
there was an ardour of the people against popery, which they delighted
to express in that manner, but meant no harm: And, if they should go
about to hinder them, it would be taken as if they favoured popery;
and, considering the great numbers, and their zeal, it might make them
outrageous, which, let alone, would not be; and perhaps they themselves
might not be secure in resisting them, no not in their own houses; and
they hoped his majesty would not have them so exposed, so long as they
could assure his majesty that care should be taken, that, if they went
about any ill thing, they should be prevented: or to this purpose, as
I had it from undoubted authority. This was the godly care they had of
the public peace, and the repose of the city; by which the king saw
plainly what they were, and what was to be expected from them. There
wanted not those who suggested the sending regiments into the city; but
the king (always witty) said, he did not love to play with his horse.
But his majesty ordered that a party of horse should be drawn up, and
make a strong guard on the outside of Temple-Bar; and all the other
guards were ordered to be in a posture at a minute's warning; and so he
took a middle, but secure and inoffensive way; and these guards did not
break up till all the rout was over.

"There were not a few in the court who either feared or favoured these
doings; it may be both; the former being the cause of the latter. This
puts me in mind of a passage told me by one present. It was of the Lord
Archbishop of York, Dolben, who was a goodly person, and corpulent; he
came to the Lord Chief-Justice North, and, my lord, said he, (clapping
his hand upon his great self,) what shall we do with these tumults
of the people? They will bear all down before them. My lord, said
the Chief Justice, fear God, and don't fear the people. A good hint
from a man of law to an archbishop. But when the day of execution was
come, all the show-fools of the town had made sure of places; and,
towards the evening, there was a great clutter in the street, with
taking down glass-windows, and faces began to show themselves thereat;
and the hubbub was great, with the shoals of people come there, to
take or seek accommodation. And, for the greater amazement of the
people, somebody had got up to the statue of Elizabeth, in the nich
of Temple-Bar, and set her out like an heathen idol. A bright shield
was hung upon her arm, and a spear put in, or leaned upon, the other
hand; and lamps, or candles, were put about, on the wall of the nich,
to enlighten her person, that the people might have a full view of the
deity that, like the goddess Pallas, stood there as the object of the
solemn sacrifice about to be made. There seemed to be an inscription
upon the shield, but I could not get near enough to discern what it
was, nor divers other decorations; but whatever they were, the eyes
of the rout were pointed at them, and lusty shouts were raised, which
was all the adoration could be paid before the grand procession came
up. I could fix in no nearer post than the Green-Dragon Tavern, below
in Fleet-Street; but, before I settled in my quarters, I rounded the
crowd, to observe, as well as I could, what was doing, and saw much,
but afterwards heard more of the hard battles and skirmishes, that were
maintained from windows and balconies of several parties with one and
the other, and with the floor, as the fancy of Whig and Tory incited.
All which were managed with the artillery of squibs, whereof thousands
of vollies went off, to the great expence of powder and paper, and
profit to the poor manufacturer; for the price of ammunition rose
continually, and the whole trade could not supply the consumption of an
hour or two.

"When we had posted ourselves at windows, expecting the play to begin,
it was very dark, but we could perceive the street to fill, and the hum
of the crowd grew louder and louder; and, at length, with help of some
lights below, we could discern, not only upwards towards the Bar, where
the squib war was maintained, but downwards towards Fleet-Bridge, the
whole street was crowded with people, which made that which followed
seem very strange; for, about eight at night, we heard a din from
below, which came up the street, continually increasing, till we could
perceive a motion; and that was a row of stout fellows, that came,
shouldered together, cross the street, from wall to wall, on each side.
How the people melted away, I cannot tell; but it was plain these
fellows made clear board, as if they had swept the street for what was
to come after. They went along like a wave; and it was wonderful to
see how the crowd made way: I suppose the good people were willing to
give obedience to lawful authority. Behind this wave (which, as all the
rest, had many lights attending) there was a vacancy, but it filled
a-pace, till another like wave came up; and so four or five of these
waves passed, one after another; and then we discerned more numerous
lights, and throats were opened with hoarse and tremendous noise; and,
with that, advanced a pageant, borne along above the heads of the
crowd, and upon it sat an huge Pope, in _pontificalibus_, in his chair,
with a reasonable attendance for state; but his premier minister,
that shared most of his ear, was, Il Signior Diavolo, a nimble little
fellow, in a proper dress, that had a strange dexterity in climbing and
winding about the chair, from one of the pope's ears to the other.

"The next pageant was of a parcel of Jesuits; and after that (for
there was always a decent space between them) came another, with some
ordinary persons with halters, as I took it, about their necks; and
one with a stenterophonic tube, sounded--Abhorrers! Abhorrers! most
infernally; and, lastly, came one, with a single person upon it,
which, some said, was the pamphleteer Sir Roger L'Estrange, some the
King of France, some the Duke of York; but, certainly, it was a very
complaisant civil gentleman, like the former, that was doing what
every body pleased to have him, and, taking all in good part, went on
his way to the fire; and however some, to gratify their fancy, might
debase his character, yet certainly he was a person of high quality,
because he came in the place of state, which is last of all. When
these were passed, our coast began to clear, but it thickened upwards,
and the noise increased; for, as we were afterwards informed, these
stately figures were planted in a demilune about an huge fire, that
shined upon them; and the balconies of the club were ready to crack
with their factious load, till the good people were satiated with the
fine show; and then the hieroglyphic monsters were brought condignly
to a new light of their own making, being, one after another, added
to increase the flames: all which was performed with fitting salvos
of the rabble, echoed from the club, which made a proper music to so
pompous a sacrifice. Were it not for the late attempts to have renewed
these barbarities,[369] it had been more reasonable to have forgot
the past, that such a stain might not have remained upon the credit
of human kind, whom we would not have thought obnoxious to any such;
but, as it is now otherwise, all persons, that mean humanely, ought
to discourage them; and one way is, to expose the factious brutality
of such unthinking rabble sports, by showing, as near as we can, how
really they were acted; the very knowledge of which, one would think,
should make them for ever to be abhorred and detested of all rational
beings. "--NORTH'S _Examen_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 369: Probably alluding to the pope-burning, meditated by the
Whigs during the administration of Harley. Swift, in his journal to
Stella, mentions the figures intended for the procession having been
seized by government. ]




PROLOGUE

TO THE

LOYAL BROTHER, OR THE PERSIAN PRINCE.

BY MR SOUTHERNE, 1682.


Poets, like lawful monarchs, ruled the stage,
Till critics, like damned Whigs, debauched our age.
Mark how they jump! critics would regulate }
Our theatres, and Whigs reform our state; }
Both pretend love, and both (plague rot them! ) hate. }
The critic humbly seems advice to bring,
The fawning Whig petitions to the king;
But one's advice into a satire slides,
T'other's petition a remonstrance hides.
These will no taxes give, and those no pence;
Critics would starve the poet, Whigs the prince.
The critic all our troops of friends discards;
Just so the Whig would fain pull down the guards.
Guards are illegal, that drive foes away,
As watchful shepherds, that fright beasts of prey.
Kings, who disband such needless aids as these,
Are safe--as long as e'er their subjects please;
And that would be till next Queen Bess's night,
Which thus grave penny chroniclers indite. [370]
Sir Edmondbury first, in woful wise,
Leads up the show, and milks their maudlin eyes.
There's not a butcher's wife but dribs her part,
And pities the poor pageant from her heart;
Who, to provoke revenge, rides round the fire,
And, with a civil congé, does retire:
But guiltless blood to ground must never fall;
There's Antichrist behind, to pay for all.
The punk of Babylon in pomp appears,
A lewd old gentleman of seventy years;
Whose age in vain our mercy would implore,
For few take pity on an old cast whore.
The devil, who brought him to the shame, takes part; }
Sits cheek by jowl, in black, to cheer his heart, }
Like thief and parson in a Tyburn-cart. }
The word is given, and with a loud huzza
The mitred poppet from his chair they draw:
On the slain corpse contending nations fall--
Alas! what's one poor pope among them all!
He burns; now all true hearts your triumphs ring;
And next, for fashion, cry, "God save the king! "
A needful cry in midst of such alarms,
When forty thousand men are up in arms.
But after he's once saved, to make amends, }
In each succeeding health they damn his friends: }
So God begins, but still the devil ends. }
What if some one, inspired with zeal, should call,
Come, let's go cry, "God save him at Whitehall? "
His best friends would not like this over-care,
Or think him e'er the safer for this prayer.
Five praying saints[371] are by an act allowed,
But not the whole church-militant in crowd;
Yet, should heaven all the true petitions drain }
Of Presbyterians, who would kings maintain, }
Of forty thousand, five would scarce remain. }

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 370: See a copy of the penny chronicle alluded to, containing
a minute account of this celebrated procession, with a cut illustrative
of the description, Vol. VI. p. 222. ]

[Footnote 371: Only five dissenters were allowed to meet together by
the penal statutes. ]




EPILOGUE

TO

THE SAME.


A virgin poet was served up to-day,
Who, till this hour, ne'er cackled for a play.
He's neither yet a Whig nor Tory boy; }
But, like a girl, whom several would enjoy, }
Begs leave to make the best of his own natural toy. }
Were I to play my callow author's game,
The King's House would instruct me by the name. [372]
There's loyalty to one; I wish no more:
A commonwealth sounds like a common whore.
Let husband or gallant be what they will,
One part of woman is true Tory still.
If any factious spirit should rebel,
Our sex, with ease, can every rising quell.
Then, as you hope we should your failings hide,
An honest jury for our play provide.
Whigs at their poets never take offence;
They save dull culprits, who have murdered sense.
Though nonsense is a nauseous heavy mass,
The vehicle called Faction makes it pass;
Faction in play's the commonwealth-man's bribe;
The leaden farthing of the canting tribe:
Though void in payment laws and statutes make it,
The neighbourhood, that knows the man, will take it. [373]
'Tis faction buys the votes of half the pit;
Their's is the pension-parliament[374] of wit.
In city-clubs their venom let them vent;
For there 'tis safe, in its own element.
Here, where their madness can have no pretence,
Let them forget themselves an hour of sense.
In one poor isle, why should two factions be? }
Small difference in your vices I can see: }
In drink and drabs both sides too well agree. }
Would there were more preferments in the land!
If places fell, the party could not stand.
Of this damned grievance every Whig complains,
They grunt like hogs till they have got their grains.
Mean time, you see what trade our plots advance;
We send each year good money into France;
And they that know what merchandize we need,
Send o'er true Protestants[375] to mend our breed.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 372: Where the play was acted. ]

[Footnote 373: Alluding to the tokens issued by tradesmen in place of
copper money, which, though not a legal tender of payment, continued to
be current by the credit of the individual whose name they bore. Tom
Brown mentions Alderman Buncombe's leaden halfpence. ]

[Footnote 374: The Parliament, which sat from the Restoration till
1678, bore this ignominious epithet among the Whigs. ]

[Footnote 375: Alluding to the emigration of the French Huguenots,
which the intolerance of Louis XIV. and his ministers began to render
general. Many took refuge in England. See Vol. X. p. 264. ]




PROLOGUE

TO

THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD,

SPOKEN BY MR HART

AT THE ACTING OF THE SILENT WOMAN.


What Greece, when learning flourished, only knew,
Athenian judges, you this day renew.
Here, too, are annual rites to Pallas done,
And here poetic prizes lost or won.
Methinks I see you, crowned with olives, sit,
And strike a sacred horror from the pit.
A day of doom is this of your decree, }
Where even the best are but by mercy free; }
A day, which none but Jonson durst have wished to see. }
Here they, who long have known the useful stage,
Come to be taught themselves to teach the age.
As your commissioners our poets go,
To cultivate the virtue which you sow;
In your Lycæum first themselves refined,
And delegated thence to human kind.
But as ambassadors, when long from home,
For new instructions to their princes come,
So poets, who your precepts have forgot,
Return, and beg they may be better taught:
Follies and faults elsewhere by them are shown,
But by your manners they correct their own.
The illiterate writer, emp'ric-like, applies
To minds diseased, unsafe chance remedies:
The learned in schools, where knowledge first began,
Studies with care the anatomy of man;
Sees virtue, vice, and passions in their cause,
And fame from science, not from fortune, draws;
So Poetry, which is in Oxford made
An art, in London only is a trade.
There haughty dunces, whose unlearned pen
Could ne'er spell grammar, would be reading men. [376]
Such build their poems the Lucretian way;
So many huddled atoms make a play;
And if they hit in order by some chance,
They call that nature, which is ignorance.
To such a fame let mere town-wits aspire,
And their gay nonsense their own cits admire.
Our poet, could he find forgiveness here,
Would wish it rather than a plaudit there.
He owns no crown from those Prætorian bands,[377]
But knows that right is in the senate's hands.
Not impudent enough to hope your praise, }
Low at the Muses' feet his wreath he lays, }
And, where he took it up, resigns his bays. }
Kings make their poets whom themselves think fit,
But 'tis your suffrage makes authentic wit.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 376: An allusion to Shadwell; who boasted, that he drew his
characters from nature, in contempt of regular criticism. ]

[Footnote 377: Alluding to the mode in which the emperors were chosen
during the decline of the empire, when the soldiers of the Prætorian
guards were the electors, without regard to the legal rights of the
senate. ]




EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY THE SAME.


No poor Dutch peasant, winged with all his fear,
Flies with more haste, when the French arms draw near,
Than we, with our poetic train, come down,
For refuge hither, from the infected town:
Heaven, for our sins, this summer has thought fit
To visit us with all the plagues of wit.
A French troop first swept all things in its way;
But those hot Monsieurs were too quick to stay:
Yet, to our cost, in that short time, we find
They left their itch of novelty behind.
The Italian merry-andrews took their place,
And quite debauched the stage with lewd grimace:
Instead of wit, and humours, your delight
Was there to see two hobby-horses fight;
Stout Scaramoucha with rush lance rode in,
And ran a tilt at centaur Arlequin.
For love you heard how amorous asses brayed,
And cats in gutters gave their serenade.
Nature was out of countenance, and each day
Some new-born monster shown you for a play.
But when all failed, to strike the stage quite dumb,
Those wicked engines, called machines, are come.
Thunder and lightning now for wit are played,
And shortly scenes in Lapland will be laid:
Art magic is for poetry profest,[378]
And cats and dogs, and each obscener beast,
To which Egyptian dotards once did bow,
Upon our English stage are worshipped now.
Witchcraft reigns there, and raises to renown
Macbeth[379] and Simon Magus of the town.
Fletcher's despised, your Jonson's out of fashion,
And wit the only drug in all the nation.
In this low ebb our wares to you are shown, }
By you those staple authors' worth is known, }
For wit's a manufacture of your own. }
When you, who only can, their scenes have praised,
We'll back, and boldly say, their price is raised.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 378: This and the following lines refer to the success of
Shadwell's comedy of "The Lancashire Witches," in which a great deal
of machinery is introduced; the witches flying away with the clown's
candles, and the priest's bottle of holy water, and converting a
country-fellow into a horse upon the stage. Not content with this, the
author has introduced upon the stage all that writers upon Dæmonology
have rehearsed of the Witches' Sabbath, or Festival, with their
infernal master; and has thus, very clumsily, mixed the horrible with
the ludicrous. As for the cats and dogs, we have, in one place,--"Enter
an Imp, in the shape of a black Shock;" and, in another,

"Enter Mother Hargrave, Mother Madge, and two Witches more; they mew,
and spit, like cats, and fly at them, and scratch them.

_Young Hartford. _ What's this? we're set on by cats.

_Sir Timothy. _ They're witches in the shape of cats; what shall we do?

_Priest. _ Phaat will I do? cat, cat, cat! oh, oh!