By the first Pair; while Eve was yet a Saint; Before she fell with Pride and learn'd to paint. From hence, my Friend, all Climates are your own, Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none. Forgive th' Allusion; 'twas not meant to All Nations all Immunities will give 130 bite; But Satire will have Room, where e're I write. For oh, the Painter Muse, though last in place, Has seiz'd the Blessing first, like Jacob's Race. Apelles Art an Alexander found, And Raphael did with Leo's Gold abound, Thou hadst thy Charles a while, and so had I, Likeness appears in every Lineament ; A nobler Beauty in thy Piece appears. Flesh looks less living in the Lovely Dame. Thou paint'st as we describe, improving still, When on wild Nature we ingraft our Skill, But none like thee a finish'd Figure place:` Due Honours to those mighty Names we grant, 120 But Shrubs may live beneath the lofty Plant; Sons may succeed their greater Parents gone; Such is thy Lott; and such I wish my own. But Poets are confin'd in Narr'wer space, To speak the Language of their Native Place ; The Painter widely stretches his Command; Thy Pencil speaks the Tongue of ev'ry Land. 91-941 Omitted by Tonson, 1701. 95 For But 1701. 115-123] Omitted by Tonson, 1701. To make you theirs, where e're you please to live; With generous Emulation fir'd thy Blood; For what in Nature's Dawn the Child admir'd, The Youth endeavour'd, and the Man acquir'd. That yet thou hast not reach'd their high Degree, Seems only wanting to this Age, not thee. Thy Genius, bounded by the Times, like mine, Drudges on petty Draughts, nor dare design 150 A more exalted Work, and more Divine. But we, who Life bestow, our selves must live: Kings cannot Reign unless their Subjects give; And they who pay the Taxes bear the Rule: Thus thou, sometimes, art forc'd to draw a Fool: But so his Follies in thy Posture sink, The senceless Ideot seems at last to think. Good Heav'n! that Sots and Knaves shou'd be so vain, 160 To wish their vile Resemblance may remain ! And stand recorded at their own Request, To future Days, a Libel or a Jeast. ON HIS EXCELLENT TRAGEDY, CALLED HEROICK LOVE. AUSPICIOUS Poet, wert thou not my Friend, That Youth shou'd reign and with'ring Age With less regret those Lawrels I resign, The long contended Honours of the Field Catch at a Peace; and wisely turn Devout. Can best, if any can, support the Stage: Thus they jog on; still tricking, never And Murd'ring Plays, which they iniscal Our Sense is Nonsense, through their Pipes Scarce can a Poet know the Play He made, 'Tis so disguis'd in Death: nor thinks 'tis That suffers in the Mangled Tragedy. With length of Time, much Judgment, and Not ill they Acted, what they cou'd not Their Setting Sun still shoots a Glim'ring Like Ancient Rome, Majestick in Decay; Players and Plays reduc'd to second In-And better gleanings their worn Soil can fancy: boast, [TO PETER ANTONY MOTTEUX, To my Friend, the AUTHOR. Voice 31 Has equall'd thy Performance with thy choice. 'Tis hard, my Friend, to write in such an Age | These hast thou chosen; and the public All wou'd submit, for all but Fools will mend. And turn distorted Words to Blasphemy, What I have loosly, or profanely writ, Rebellion, worse than Witchcraft, they The Pulpit preach'd the Crime, the People ru'd. 20 The Stage was silenc'd; for the Saints wou'd see In fields perform'd their plotted Tragedy. TO PETER ANTONY MOTTEUX. Text from the original, prefixed to the play, 1698. 9 Faults] Many edd. wrongly give Thoughts Time, Action, l'lace, are so preserv'd by thee That ev'n Corneille might with Envy see Thou in Design, and Wycherley in Wit 40 Contented to be thinly regular. With more Increase rewards thy happy Toil. But whence art thou inspir'd, and Thou To flourish in an Idiom, not thy own? 51 In underpraising thy Deserts, I wrong; So Great a Poet and so Good a Friend. JOHN DRYDEN. 44 so Many edd. wrongly give too 45 That Many edd. wrongly give And These false readings are all in Christie's text but not in Dr. Saintsbury's. TO MY | HONOUR'D KINSMAN, | JOHN DRIDEN, | OF CHESTERTON, IN THE COUNTY OF HUNTINGDON, ESQUIRE. Without their Cost, you terminate the Cause; The Sanction leaves a lasting Peace behind; Promoting Concord, and composing Strife, Lord of your self, uncumber'd with a Wife; Where, for a Year, a Month, perhaps a Night, Long Penitence succeeds a short Delight: 20 Minds are so hardly match'd, that ev'n the first, Though pair'd by Heav'n, in Paradise, were curs'd. For Man and Woman, though in one they grow, Yet, first or last, return again to Two. He to God's Image, She to His was made; Ilow cou'd He stand, when, put to double He must a Weaker than himself sustain ! 29 Two Wrestlers help to pull each other down. Not that my Verse wou'd blemish all the But yet, if some be Bad, 'tis Wisdom to And better shun the Bait, than struggle in Thus have you shunn'd, and shun the married Trusting as little as you can to Fate. No porter guards the Passage of your T'admit the Wealthy, and exclude the For God, who gave the Riches, gave the To sanctifie the Whole, by giving Part: 40 And to the Second Son, a Blessing brought: So may your Stores, and fruitful Fields increase; And ever be you bless'd, who live to bless. So free to Many, to Relations most, With Crowds attended of your ancient 50 You seek the Champian-Sports, or Sylvan- With well-breath'd Beagles, you surround Ev'n then, industrious of the Common Good: Like Felons, where they did the murd'rous This fiery Game, your active Youth main- TO JOHN DRIDEN. Text from the original and Not yet, by years extinguish'd, though only contemporary edition, 1700. 8 Award) Award, 1700. restrain'd: For Age but tastes of Pleasures, Youth devours. The Hare, in Pastures or in Plains is found, Emblem of Humane Life, who runs the Round; And, after all his wand'ring Ways are done,) Ilis Circle fills, and ends where he begun, Just as the Setting meets the Rising Sun. Thus Princes ease their Cares: But happier he, Who seeks not Pleasure thro' Necessity, Than such as once on slipp'ry Thrones were plac'd; And chasing, sigh to think themselves are chas'd. 70 So liv'd our Sires, e'er Doctors learn'd to kill, And multiply'd with theirs, the Weekly Bill: The first Physicians by Debauch were made: Excess began, and Sloth sustains the Trade, Pity the gen'rous Kind their Cares bestow To search forbidden Truths; (aSin to know:) To which, if Humane Science cou'd attain, The Doom of Death, pronounc'd by God, were vain. In vain the Leech wou'd interpose Delay; Fatefastens first, and vindicates the Prey. 80 What Help from Arts Endeavours can we have! Guibbons but guesses, nor is sure to save: But Maurus sweeps whole Parishes, and Peoples ev'ry Grave, And no more Mercy to Mankind will use, Than when he robb'd and murder'd Maro's Muse. Wou'dst thou be soon dispatch'd, and perish whole ? Trust Maurus with thy Life, and M-lb-rn with thy Soul. By Chace our long-liv'd Fathers earned their Food; Toil strung the Nerves, and purifi'd the Blood: But we, their Sons, a pamper'd Race of Men, Are dwindl'd down to threescore Years and ten. 91 Better to hunt in Fields, for Health unbought, Than fee the Doctor for a nauseous Draught. The Wise, for Cure, on Exercise depend; God never made his Work, for Man to mend. The Tree of Knowledge, once in Eden plac'd, |