were better linked in interests than mine. Yet even this is a fault which I should often practise, if I were to write again, because it is agreeable to the English genius. We love variety more than any other nation; and so long as the audience will not be pleased without it, the poet is obliged to humour them. On condition they were cured of this publick vice, I could be content to change my method, and gladly give them a more reasonable pleasure.

This digression, my Lord, is not altogether to the purpose of an Epistle Dedicatory; yet it is expected that somewhat should be said even here in relation to Criticism; at least in vindication of my address, that you may not be desired to patronize a poem which is wholly unworthy of your protection. Though, after all, I doubt not but some will liken me to the lover in a modern comedy, who was combing his peruke,' and setting

1 It appears from several passages in the prologues and comedies of our author's time, that the fine gentlemen of the day carried combs with them to the theatre, and with the aid of a pocket-glass adjusted their enormous perukes, when they happened to be dishevelled. So, in the Prologue to MR ANTONY, a comedy by Southerne, 1690:

"He that comes hither with design to hiss, “And with a bum revers'd to whisper Miss,

"To comb a periwig, or shew fine cloaths,

"Or to vent antick nonsense with new oaths," &c. But it should seem from the following lines in Sedley's Prologue to BELLAMIRA, 1687, that this privilege was

his cravat before his mistress; and being asked by her, when he intended to begin his court, replied, he had been doing it all this while. Yet thus it happens, my Lord, that self will come into all addresses of this nature, though it is the most unmannerly word of the world in civil conversation, and the most ungrateful to all hearers. For which reason, I who have nothing to boast of but my misfortunes, ought to be the first to banish it; especially since I have so large a field before me as your inborn goodness, your evenness of temper, your humility in so ample a share of fortune as you possess your humanity to all men, and your kindness to your friends; besides your natural and acquired endowments, and your brotherly love to your relations. Notus in fratres animo paterno, was the great commendation which Horace gave to one of his patrons ;* and it is that praise which

allowed only to the gallants of the boxes and the stage, and that the practice was not permitted in the pit :

"We take all in good part, and never rage,

66

Though the shrill pit be louder than the stage: "There you must sit demure, without a word, "No peruke comb'd, nor pocket-tortoise stirr❜d; "Here you may give the lie, or draw your sword."

}

*Proculeius, whose sister, Terentia, was married to Mæcenas. The two brothers of Proculeius, having lost their fortunes in the civil wars of Rome, he divided his patrimony with them.-Our author is inaccurate in his quotation from Horace (lib. ii. ode 2). All the copies that I have seen, read

particularly crowns your other virtues. But here, my Lord, I am obliged in common prudence to stop short; and to cast under a veil some other of your praises,* as the chymists use to shadow the secret of their great elixir, lest if it were made publick, the world should make a bad use of it. To enjoy our own quiet, without disturbing that of others, is the practice of every moral man; and for the rest, to live cheerfully and splendidly, as it is becoming of your illustrious birth, so it is likewise to thank God for his benefits in the best manner. It is unnecessary to wish you more worldly happiness, or content of mind, than you enjoy; but the continuance of both, to yourself and your posterity, is earnestly desired by all who have the honour to be known to you, and more particularly by,

My LORD,

Your Lordship's most obedient,

And most humbly devoted servant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

The celata virtus here alluded to, with so much caution, was probably Lord Salisbury's fidelity and attachment to the abdicated King, whose restoration, it was suspected, he had endeavoured to effect.

PREFACE

TO THE

HUSBAND HIS OWN CUCKOLD*.

I HAVE VE thought convenient to acquaint the reader with somewhat concerning this comedy, though perhaps not worth his knowledge. It was sent me from Italy some years since, by my second son, to try its fortune on the stage; and being the essay of a young unexperienced author, to confess the truth, I thought it not worthy of that honour. It is true I was not willing to discourage him so far, as to tell him plainly my opinion, but it seems he guessed somewhat of my mind, by my long delays of his expectation; and therefore, in my absence from the town last summer, took the boldness to dedicate his play to that person of honour3 whose name you will find before his Epistle. It was received by that noble gentleman with so much

2 This comedy, which was written by our author's second son, John, was acted at the theatre in Little Lin. coln's-Inn Fields, and first printed in 1696. The author was at this time at Rome, with his elder brother, Charles, who was Usher of the Palace to the Pope.

3 Our anthor's brother-in-law, Sir Robert Howard.

candour and generosity, as neither my son nor I could deserve from him. Then the play was no longer in my power; the patron demanding it in his own right, it was delivered to him: and he was farther pleased, during my sickness, to put it into that method in which you find it; the loose scenes digested into order, and knit into a tale.

As it is, I think it may pass amongst the rest of our new plays: I know but two authors, and they are both my friends, who have done better since the Revolution. This I dare venture to maintain, that the taste of the age is wretchedly depraved in all sorts of poetry; nothing almost but what is abominably bad can please. The young hounds, who ought to come behind, now lead the pack; but they miserably mistake the scent. Their poets, worthy of such an audience, know not how to distinguish their characters; the manners are all alike inconsistent, and interfering with each other. There is scarce a man or woman of God's making in all their farces, yet they raise an unnatural sort of laughter, the common effect of buffoonery; and the rabble which takes this for wit, will endure no better, because it is above their understanding. This account I take from the best judges; for I thank GOD, I have had the grace hitherto to avoid the seeing or reading of their gallimaufries. But it is the latter end of a century, and I hope the next will begin better.

4 Probably, Southerne and Congreve.