Miscellaneous letters and essays on several subjects philosophical, moral, historical, critical, amorous, &c., in prose and verse : directed to John Dryden, Esq., the Honourable Geo. Granvill, Esq., Walter Moile, Esq., Mr. Dennis, Mr. Congreve, and other eminent men of th' age / by several gentlemen and ladies.

A COLLECTION OF Miscellaneous Essays and Letters.

To JOHN DRYDEN Esq

May the 1•…•…th. 16•…•….

I Hope, Sir, you'l not measure my Love and Value for you by the Visits I make you, for then you wou'd extreamly inj•…•…e me; for I •…•…nnot be so impudent with a Man I h•…•… an aweful Esteem for, as to int•…•…de too often into his Company, for I'm sensible I can in no mea∣sure attone for the loss of that time, my Visits wou'd •…•…ob from your better Thoughts; and I rather satisf•…•… my s•…•…lf with the expression of my Ze•…•…l and Love in absence, than, at the expence of my •…•…iend, grati•…•…e my ow•…•…e of his •…•…∣quent Company. But yet, I confess, this lo•…•…

default of my Duty, can be excus'd by nothing, but the unavoidable 〈◊〉〈◊〉, about my Concerns in the Country, which has divorc'd me as long from, Wh•…•… I value next you, my Books.

Mistake me not, Sir, I mean not my Scribling, which I'm far enough from valuing, and only comply with, by the compelling Obligation that taught the Parrot, suum XAIPE. Nay, I have so l•…•…le of an Author, that I have not Arro∣gance, and want all Self Esteem, which some ev'n as dull as my self abound with beyond bea•…•…ing, and which is, indeed, like a Wise, tho' an Evil, yet such a one that is necessary. For a Di•…•…idence of one'•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in Writing, as well as in Addresses to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and the G•…•…at, is seldom any advan∣tage to a Man, at least in this Age, where the highest Impudence Pa•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a handsom Assu∣rance, and N•…•… and 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 for W•…•…, and Re∣p•…•…: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dispi•…•… a Ma•…•… and a•…•… he can't please himself with wh•…•… he Writes, so he very hardly can •…•…ise to the 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…y that are not duller. But when I was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to this C•…•…se of Scribling, I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my self with a•…•… much of a Sto•…•…, as I cou'd, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my self against publick Censure; and in my own de•…•…ence soon believ'd Reputation but a Whim, since the Worst had their Admirers, as well as the •…•…est, at least in our Age; nor cou'd I perswade my self that the next wou'd be one 〈◊〉〈◊〉 better in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Judgment. And to say truth, there is nothing cou'd make me have any tolera∣ble Opinion of my self, but the Love and Esteem I have for you; whom (〈◊〉〈◊〉 me leave to contra∣dict

my self, and shew such Arrogance) I do pre∣tend to value, as much as any Man can: and I defie my greatest •…•…nemies to do me Justice, and contradict me by any word or discourse ev'n where I had a Moral Certainty, you cou'd never hear of it again.

This, Sir, I urge, as a Praise of my self; for next to being a good Poet, is to know how to value one; the first has given Immortality, the latter (when in a Man of Quality) gain'd it. But lest the length of my Letter shou'd do, what I apprehend from my Visits I'll

Subscribe my self, Your Friend and humble Servant Charles Gildon:

To his Ingenious Friend Mr. George Isaacson, in de•…•…ence of Personal Re∣flections.

〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the •…•…th 16•…•….

YOU tell me you ha•…•… read 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Book, and are extreamly, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and sine Sense of it; but that yo•…•… cannot allow of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Personal Refl•…•…ions. I wish you had •…•…joyn'd your Reason for your Opinion, because I know

you guide your self extreamly by Reason in all things, and also because you know I'm very fond of a Reason to strengthen an Assertion that is brought against one I do esteem, as I do Mr.—But since you have not sent your Reason against him in this particular, I'll give you mine for him.

Not to justi•…•…e him by the daily Example of other Authors, which wou'd be tedious, and to little purpose, the very Reason of the thing its self (supposing all the Reflections Just and True) shou'd Vindicate his Practice in that particular. For if Men must not be told their Faults, they'l never mend 'em; and general Reflections will never do the Business, because the Devilish good Opi∣nion ev'ry Man has of himself, furnishes him with an Evasion from the lash of g•…•…neral Characters. Aristophanes kept many of the Athenians in awe, and within moderate bounds by this means; and so regulated the City better than the Philoso∣phers, with their empty Sophisms, or the Laws, with their blunted Edge. But after the Thirty Tyrant•…•… had put down this Liberty with their 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was lost in Comedy, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cou'd do nothing but Delight. I know 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ays, That this Liberty deserv'd a Cur•…•…, but •…•…hat was, because it deviated from Truth, and like other of the best Institutions, was perverted by Passion or Int'rest to serve a turn. S•…•…tire a∣mong the Romans took this course where the Po∣•…•…ts durst: and Catullus, that was no Sati•…•…ist, told 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of his Vic•…•…, and that publickly in Verse;

yet Caesar had that Temperance to Caress him, tho' he had committed his Infamy to as long a Life, as he cou'd do his Noble Acts. But if the Fops, Fools, and Scriblers of our Age, are over∣run with Vic•…•…s more troublesom to the Public, than Caesar's venereal Sallies, without his Mode∣ration, and Modesty, Must they go unmark'd? Must the Town be always peste•…•…'d with their in∣sufferable Impertinences, because, tho' they have been ridicul'd in general Characters a Thousand times, will yet by no means believe themselves touch'd: There is no Remedy for these Public Grievances, but particular Reflections, and tho', as you say, No Man is free from Follies that may be expos'd, yet they will be much diminish'd in them that have any sence, by this means, or at least be made less visible; and then 'tis not much more pains to be Wise, than to play the fool with Secrefie, and one might as well shake hands with Vice for good and all, as to be at the fatigue to Sin with discretion.

You wonder, you say, That 〈◊〉〈◊〉 had not his Throat 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for the Personal Abuses he gave his Countrymen: But I must tell you, That Vice and Folly then, tho' common enough, had not that lewd tye upon Mankind, as t•…•…y have now. A Fop or Knave, that was then expos'd, had all the Audience against him, and to redeem his reputation, asham'd of his •…•…olly o•…•… Vice re∣form'd. Men came then from a Play full of as many good Resolutions, as a very P•…•…nitent Sin∣ner •…•…om a sensible P•…•…lpit 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Death,

and Judgment, but now they come away no more affected, than a hardned Usurer from a Sermon of the Revelations. The World's extreamly al∣ter'd since Aristophanes his days. we can't endure to be thought guilty of what we sondle and ca∣ress; Nay, now to touch upon a Vice that's grown a Public Grievance, this Fop; or that Whore, that's hit, shall engage a whole Party against you. To expose a Man by a particular, that's in∣corrigible by all general Characters, reforms him not; but makes him preposterously fonder of Vindicating his Error, than of mending it; and he had rather continue the Publick Jest, with the additional Scandal of having committed new Fol∣li•…•…s in Defence of the Old, than come into the common rank of Mankind, and cease to be sin∣gular, and troublesome. Men h•…•…tofore did with their Folli•…•…s, and Vices, as some of our Modern Spa•…•…ks do with their Mistresses, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them till they come to be known, but then turn 'em off, to avoid the Scandal of a keeping 〈◊〉〈◊〉. But now Men are Wedded to 'em, they take 'em with Danm'd for better for worse, till Death doth them part; and think themselves, as much bound to •…•…ght a Man for exposing them, as for attacquiny the Honor of their House, tho' in reality they are no more oblig'd to do so, than a Man is to Vindic•…•…te the Honor of a Wife not only he himself, but the wh•…•… Town know to be a Whore, and have contributed to the making her so.

After all this, you'll ask me, perhaps, if I have not my share of Follies and Vic•…•…, that I am for falling so soul upon those of my Neighbours? Why, 'faith to deal sincerely with •…•…ou, I have abundantly more than my share, which makes me the severer in my Observation of other Mens to keep my self in Countenance. But this advan∣tage I have made of it, I have lessen'd the incre∣dible number, my Mind was over-run with, and shall endeavour to persue the course •…•…ill I've brought 'em, within a more conscionable com∣pass, for I never hope to clear my self entirely.

I am,

Sir,

Your Friend and Servant Char. Gildon.

An Apology for Poetry, in an Essay dire∣cted to Walter Moil Esq

IN an Age when e'ery ignorant 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sets up for a Man of Authority; and as many as can but tell their Syllabl•…•… on their Fing•…•…, without 〈◊〉〈◊〉, without Lea•…•…ning, or any •…•…xcuse for Writing, a•…•…ogate the Glorious Name of Poets, and, by t•…•…eir Scandalous 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to it, bring the Pride of Conquer•…•…rs, and the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Philos•…•…∣phers, into an unj•…•…st and shame•…•…ul Neglect; 'Tis the Duty of an humble and zealous Admirer of

those God like Few, whom Art, Nature, and Heav'n have evidently exalted to that Supream Dignity, to make an Apology for them, who ought not to •…•…nk under the Crimes of this con∣temptible Race of wretched Poetasters, who ought to be avoided by all that have the least Regard to their own Repose. For this infamous Genera∣tion, these Bullies of Parnassus, forsaking the hum∣ble, and quiet Call of their own Fortune, with a Sacrilegious •…•…mbition, to make a Noise in the World, endervour a Rape on the Sacred Nine: and having as little Modesty as Poetry, continually 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Favours and Enjoyment of Calliope at l•…•…h tho' like I•…•…n they caress nothing but a Cloud, the Harmonious Goddess vanishing from their Prophane Embrace. These are Sparks, who, by perpetually repeating them, talk themselves into so good an Opinion of their own Performan∣ces, that they can never be brought to think ill enough of themselves to be discouragd from their Poetical Vanity, in which they are confirm'd by the ignorant Applause of some, and the Unaccoun∣table Diversion of others, who have a Vanity in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ng themselves with caressing and indulging their Folly; tho' this is something pardonable, since the Admonition given by an old Poet to one of these Gentlemen's Inclinations wou'd be almost fruitless,

Qu•…•…d 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Celsus ag•…•… 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…ndus 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 quaerant 〈◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Palatinus 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 Apollo

They are not to be reclaim'd, nay, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Thamyras wou'd scarce effect it, the Breaking their •…•…ute wou'd not hinder their Writing, nor the loss of their Eyes their Repeating, tho' perhaps Blind∣ness might be some Advantage to their Acquain∣•…•…ance, by giving them a possibility of avoiding •…•…hem; for a Seeing Poetaster has an Hawk's Eye 〈◊〉〈◊〉 one he intends to recite too, he spies him at a distance, and swoops upon him before he can make his Escape.

These are the Banes of Society, and have brought an Odium on that admirable Science they pretend to, with some People; who, tho' they have Wit, want Judgment to distinguish betwixt Pretence and Reality. Others, who ought to have regard to the Protection of the Muses, and are sensible of the difference of Merit, and Impu∣dence, are yet too sond of more ungenerous Pleasures, to Sacrifice them to the Care of the Poets. There are a Sort of Men, that love Plea∣•…•…e, but are Sordid in their Choice of it; beyond measure preferring those of the Body to those of the Mind. They value not what Expence they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at in keeping a Whore for the use of half the •…•…own, yet are sordidly Penurious in their Grati∣•…•…tions of a Poet; a look, a sigh, a senseless word 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the first, can melt 'em into Profuseness, and Po∣verty, when the Noblest Thoughts, dress'd in the most Charming Numbers and Language, shall not move them to consider the Necessity of the Author of them. Nay, tho' they value them∣selves as Men of Sense as well as Fortune, their

Dogs, and their Bottle are more their Care, than the Darlings of Heav'n the Poets.

Maecenas, and Augustus, were the only Keeping Patrons; the Poets were their Mistresses, and never were they so happy, or wanton'd so much in Pleasure, as in their Intimacy with Virgil, Ho∣race, Gallus, &c. Their Company was their Re∣gale, tho' Virgil (if we measure the Excellence of it by our Tests, Facetiousness and Buffoonry) was none of the best. I'm extreamly pleas'd with Augustus, and cou'd almost Sacrifice to his Me∣mory when I read this charming Expostulation to Horace——Iratum me tibi scito quod non in pleris{que} Ejusmodi scriptis mecum potissimum loquaris. An vereris ne apud Posteros tibi infame sit, quod videaris familiaris nobis esse. You see he was ambitious that Posterity by often reading his Name in Ho∣race's Writings, shou'd know how he valu'd him. Had our Poets this Encouragement, they wou'd surpass the Romans and Greeks too, and England wou'd have her greater Horace and Virgil; •…•…or as Martial says,

Sint Maecenates n•…•…n de•…•…nt Flacce Marones.

And,

Ca•…•…na prov•…•…unt animo deducta Sereno.

But where there must be a care of Subsistence the Mind can never have that Se•…•…eneness it ought for so Noble and Sacred an Office. What there∣fore

might we not expect, shou'd a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or Maecenas arise, from such who under all these dis∣advantages have performed so well? I hope this Apology may remove some prejudices that may oppose that Happiness, and provoke some better Pen to do Poetry more Justice than my Time or Ability wou'd permit.

If we regard the Antiquity of its Origine the No∣bleness of its Subject, or the Beauty of its Aim, or Design (which three Things are the Test of the Excellence of Arts and Sciences, in reference to each other) we shall easily 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Poesie most ancient in its Rise, most honorable in the Subjects and Matters it adorns, and most transcend•…•…ntly excellent in its Usefulness and 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

First, To say nothing of other Authors 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Virgil proves from the Second Book of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Evangel. Prep. that it is of a very early Date; and from hence 'tis also evident, That it flourish'd among the most ancient of the Hebrews, who were by several Ages of greater Antiquity, than the Grecian Poets. For Moses, their Leader, having pass'd the Red Sea, inspir'd by a Divine Fury, sung Praise and Thanks to his Omnipotent •…•…∣liverer in Hexameter Verse, according to •…•…∣phus in the Second Book of his Antiquity of the Jews. Thus the Royal David too, compos'd Hymns to God, in various Numbers, as •…•…phus in the Seventh Book of the Antiquities of the Jews, in these words confirms. David therefore (says he) after he was deliver'd from War and Danger, in the Enjoyment of full Tranquility, and Peace, compos'd

Songs and Hymns to God in various and different Numbers, as Trimeters, Quinquimeters: with whom St. Jerome in his Preface to the Chronicles of Eu∣seb•…•…s agrees, where he writes in this manner. Lastly, (says he) What is more sonorous than the Book of Psalms? Which like the Works of our Ho∣race, or the Greek Pindar, now runs on Iambick Feet, now sounds with Alcaic's, now swells with the Saphic Numbers, &c.

But to come to the Gentils, we find Poetry so very Ancient that they know not its Rise, but at∣tribute it to their God Apollo, and the Muses; a•…•… Apollo, in Ovid, himself assures us.

Juppiter est genitor: p•…•…r me quod erit{que} fuit{que} Est{que} patet, per me concordant Carmina •…•…rvis.

Apollo reciev'd the Harp from Mercury, and the•…•… was made President of the Muses. By which at∣tributing the Original of Poetry to the Gods, 'tis evident that the Gentiles themselves look'd up∣on it as a Sacred and venerable Thing, above Humane Invention. From this Spring it descen∣ded as it were by Succession to Linus, (the Son of Apollo and Urania.) And Orpheus, (the Son of Apollo and Calliope) and Thamyras; These two last with Hercules, were the Scholars to Linus. We need not instance Arion, Amphion, and Musaeus, who are Poets of a very ancient Date. Their uncommon Praises, are celebrated in so extraor∣dinary a manner, that there can nothing be ad∣ded to their Eternal Glory, their Encomiums,

indeed, transcending all Belief and Understand∣ing: so much did succeeding Ages think was due to the first Fathers of Poetry, as to make their Performances more, than Mortal.

The Divine Orpheus, the Wonder of Better Na∣•…•…ure, with the Music of his Lyre and Song, drew Trees, Stones, and Beasts to be his list'ning Au∣dience, which is not so impossible, since Campa∣•…•…ella proves that all things have Sense. But the charming of Rocks, Stones and Trees, the taming Wild Beasts, and the stopping the course of ra∣•…•…id Torrents, were the least of his Performances, Hell lost its Terror, and put on a more agree∣•…•…ble Face, the tortur'd Ghosts forgot their past 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the Heav'n of their present Ease, and •…•…he very Furies, grew Mild and Calm at the sound of his Melodious Verse, and Lyre; all which is •…•…dmirably describ'd by Ovid, in his Metamorphosis. These Powers did Antiquity give to Orpheus, of •…•…he Sweetness of whose Poesie, 'twou'd be super∣•…•…uous to produce the Testimony of the most an∣•…•…ient Authors. Arion and Amphion want not their Miracles, of the Dolphin and the Walls of Thebes. Of the latter, Horace, Art. Poetic.

Dictus & Amphion Thebanae condior Areis Saxa movere sono Testudinis, & prece bland•…•… Ducere quo vellet.—

Tho' there be nothing more vulgar, and com∣•…•…on, than these Fables of the Ancient Poets, and Musicians; yet do they evidently demonstrate,

that even from those Primitive Times, down to our Iron Age, these extraordinary Praises and Enco∣miums were only bestow'd on this divine Power of Poetry; that Poets alone seem'd worthy by this most Sacred Art to have the next place to the Gods themselves. So that this Universal Applause (if there were no other Motive) ought to recom∣mend it to our Admiration and Esteem.

But 'tis agreed by the universal, and unanimous consent of almost all Nations, and Authors, that Poetry not only contains all other Arts and Scien∣ces, but has this Prerogative peculiar to it self That no Rules, no Masters with the best Instru∣ctions, can teach it; unless those who apply them∣selves to this divine Science, are destin'd to the Sacred Function, by Nature, and a Genius. Whence arose that Maxim, allow'd of by all Men o•…•… Sense, Poeta Nascitur non Fit. That a Poet is Born not Made. And from hence it follows in my Opi∣nion, That a Poet derives the honor of that Name from his Nature and Genius, not from his Art 〈◊〉〈◊〉 This e'ery Scholar has, That none but the Darling o•…•… Heav'n and Nature. This may be acquir'd by a Studious Pedant, That must be born, and grow up with the auspicious Babe, for Poeta nascitur non fit.

I'm much mistaken if Polidore Virgil, do no•…•… comment on this Axiom in his first Book De Re•…•… Inventor. Cap. 8. where he says, 'Tis certain tha•…•… Poetry for many Reasons excels the other Arts an•…•… Sciences, either because no other Art is to be acquir'•…•… but by a long Application to it, or because, as Strab•…•…

in the beginning of his Geography, against Eratosthe∣nes, eloquently demonstrates, it contains all others; because of all the Arts that Humane Wit has produc'd Poetry alone, it taught by a Divine Inspiration, &c.

Cicero in his Oration for Archias the Poet, has lest us the Praise of Poets (of which Name him∣self had been extreamly Ambitious) in these words, Atqui sic (says he) à summis hominibus, •…•…ruditissimis{que} accepimus, caeterarum rerum studia, & Doctrinâ, & Praeceptis, & Arte constare; Poetam Natur•…•… •…•…psâ valere, & mentis viribus excitari, & quasi di∣vino quodam spiritu afflari; quare suo Jure noster •…•…nnius Sanctos appellat Poetas, quod quasi deorum aliquo dono, & Munere commendati nobis esse vi∣deantur.

You see, Sir, that Cicero confesses that divine Fire in Poets which himself desir'd in vain, and •…•…hat Poets seem to be recommended by the Gift, and Benefit of the Gods, to our reception. •…•…f he that felt not this Sacred Fury was sensible of this, we may credit Ovid, who by his own Experience says, De Fastis, lib. 6.

Facta Canam, sed erunt, qui me finxisse loquentur. Nulla{que} Mortali numina visa putent. Est Deus in Nobis, agitante Calescimus illo, Impetus hic sacrae semina mentis habet.

And Socrates in Plato affirms this Poetical Fury •…•…o be divinely inspir'd. Plato in his Second Book •…•…f the Common-wealth, calls Poets the Sons of •…•…he Gods, and in Lysis terms them, the Parents

and Guides of Wisdom; and elsewhere he ca•…•… Homer the Father of all Wisdom and Philosophy in these Words: 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Home•…•… was the Guide and Master of the Tragical Beautie•…•… and Virtues. And Petronius Arbiter tells us, tha•…•… the Mind can neither conceive, or bring forth i•…•… Poetical Births, unless it be impregnated wit•…•… great and boundless stores of Learning; and fo•…•… this reason he says in his Satyricon, that Eumolp•…•… spoke oft'ner divinely, that is, Poetically, tha•…•… like a Man.

Those who endeavour to draw the Origin•…•… of Poetry from Singing, are not in my Opinio•…•… much mistaken. For when the Ancients endea∣vour'd to declare the Affections or Passions of th•…•… Mind in Song by the Sound, and peculiar Varia∣tion of the Voice, as it were in a more Polite an•…•… Elaborate Speech; this rude and unpollish'd Soun•…•… by degrees refind into an Art. Which, when 〈◊〉〈◊〉 became (where-ever it was) so improv'd, th•…•… with it the Praises of the Gods or Heroes, w•…•… celebrated into certain Verses or Rhimes, ga•…•… Birth to Poetry; which indeed seems truly, & real•…•… to be deriv'd from Singing, since with the Learn∣ed ev'n now, a Poet is not said, to Speak, b•…•… Sing. The antient Germans, a Warlike Peopl•…•… had no other History of the Acts of the Kin•…•… and Leaders, but certain Songs or Verses, b•…•… which they either extoll'd their Warlike Exploi•…•… or rous'd the Minds of the Soldiers to fight, as 〈◊〉〈◊〉

find in Polyaenus, Solon, annimated the Athenians, to Battle. And the Lacedaemonians Sacrific'd to the Muses before they began a Fight; that we read that the noble Heroe, Matthias, King of Hungary, us'd to be so touch'd with the Acts of the antient Heroes, as he sung 'em to his Lute, that the force with which it affected his Mind, was apparent in his Body; imitating Achilles, who sung the Praises of great Commanders to his Harp.

Another Proof of the Antiquity of Poesie, are the Sibyls, the Oracles of the Pythian Apollo, ma∣ny of which are in Herodotus; Inscriptions, Mo∣numents of Victories, Pillars, and Obelisc's, all which afford cause to believe Verse to have a ve∣ry early Original. With these the Writings of the greatest and most antient Authors strow their Works by their Authorities and Sentences, to ren∣der them the more palatable and efficacious. Nay, St. Paul is said to have convinc'd the Athenians of the madness of their Idolatry, by part only of a Verse of the Poet Aratus, and to have us'd that Verse of Menander to the Christian Corinthians.

Evil Discourses corrupt good Manners.

Thus much for the Divine, and very antient Origin of Poesie, and now we are come to the Subject of it, according to our former Division.

Tho' other Arts and Sciences afford abun∣dant matter, and a large Field for our Thoughts and Consideration; yet none can stand in com∣petition

with Poesie; for what is there in all the wond'rous Variety, and vast extent of Nature that falls not under the consideration of a Poet? All the Wonders, Mercies, and Favours of the highest God, can in nothing be more gloriously express'd than in Verse: Who can describe the Beauty of his Providence, the Bounty of his Gifts, the Sacredness of his Mysteries, with such Charms, such Force, such Excellence, as the Poet in his Melodious Numbers, Majestic Langu∣age, and Divine Thoughts. Hence it was that the Royal Psalmist David, chose to appease the Anger of an offended God, with the soothing Sacrifice of this Penitential Verses. To this we add the Hymns of the antient Hebrews, of the old Church, and of the Poetical and holy Fathers of the New; who to make their Ejaculations and Jubilees of Seraphic Love, reach late Posterity, put them into Verse, as the most agreeable, and Kin∣dred Repository of things so Sacred. Hence also (if with these Books we may mingle the Prophane) flow'd all those Hymns, Odes, Secu∣lar Poems, and Io Paeans to Jove, Mercury, Apollo, and the rest of the Imaginary Gods of Heathens. So Sacred has Poetry been esteem'd in all Ages, so Charming, and so Comprehensive, that they al∣ways judg'd what-ever was design'd for the Praises of Gods, Kings and Heroes, or for the common and universal Use, Profit and Pleasure of all Men, ought to be delivered in numbers, in Verse, as destin'd to all that was Sublime and Great. To this we owe the Geneology, and

noble Deeds of the Kings and Commanders in Homer, the common Father of all Poets, and in Virgil his Competitor of Glory; these being wrote in noble Verse, fill our Minds with fresh and wonderful pleasure, e'ry time we pe∣ruse them.

To proceed to the several Institutes of our Life, particularly the spurs to Virtues, and flight from Vice, the purgation of the manners, &c. The Funeral Griefs, and Lamentations on the Dead, and finally all those particulars that the Accidents of humane Life produce, desirable or pleasant, all which are, and have been the sub∣jects of Poems: Whence the antient Greek Au∣thors reduc'd all things divine and humane, to five Heads.

The first they termed 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, under which they seem compendiously to have plac'd all that was referr'd to the Praises of the Gods, the Rights of Religion, and the Victories of the Heroes, and the Celebration of noble Acts. The second 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, in which the Virtues of great and extraordinary Men, were prais'd, as Elo∣gium and Panegyrics. The third 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the use of which was to express the Virtues that tend∣ed to the purging and probity of the Manners. The forth 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 which performed the Fu∣neral Sorrow•…•… and •…•…amentations. The fifth they call'd 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, under which was contain'd all that could be conducive to the Delight and Pleasures of Mankind.

Poetry having been always generously imploy'd none can call in question the Nobility and Ex∣cellence of its Subject and Matter. Tho' some perhaps may object, that Phylosophy, Law, and History, &c. treat of other things of a higher Nature, whilst they discover things from their Causes, or by Arguments, prove to others those that are already discover'd: But they are but very raw Novices in the Academy of Poetry, who are ignorant that the Elements or first Founda∣tion of most, if not all Arts, as well as their pro∣gress, are deriv'd from Poetry, and the best Au∣thors of all times have granted the Poets the first Philosophers.

For from this Treasure, or Ocean of Arts and Sciences, are all the Rivulets of Learning sprung, and have lifted up their Heads; nay, they have abundantly drawn whatever they contain of Pleasure or Artifice, from Poetry, as from the vast and Mother Rceptacle of all the Mellifluous Waters of Eloquence. To this we may add, what Strabo says, viz. Poeticem Antiqui vocant Primariam quandam Philosophiam, quae nos a pueris ad vitam institu•…•…i, & cum Voluptat•…•… doceat, cujusmodi Mores & affectus, & Actiones nostras esse conveniat. Quin nostri h•…•…mines Poetam vel solum sapientem esse per•…•…ri∣buerunt; ob eam{que} rem civitates Greciae pu•…•…ros pri∣mum omnium Poeticis erudiunt: non uti{que} merae ob∣iectationis gratiâ, sed ut prudentiae modestiae{que} prae∣ceptis imbuantur i. e. The Antients term'd Poesie a more excellent kind of Philosophy, which shou'd from our Childhood inform our Lives, and teach us with

Pleasure, what our Manners, our Passions, and our Actions ought to be. Nay, our Countrymen wou'd scarce admit any into the Number of Wise Men, but Poets; and for this Reason, the Cities of Greece ground Boys first of all in Poetry: not meerly for their Delight, but that they may be instructed in the Precepts of Modesty, and Prudence, or Wisdom.

And justly too did the Ancients tearm Poetry, a more excellent Philosophy; for if the Excellence of a thing depend on its more or less aptness to obtain the End 'tis design'd for, this Prerogative is justly given to Poetry: The End of Philosophy is to form in the Mind Idea's, and habits of Vir∣tue, and they are fixt there better by Pleasure than Pain, because the Mind is naturally averse to Pain, and propense to Pleasure. But the stiff, and difficult Method of those who are Simply Phi∣losophers, perplexes us too much with Metaphy∣sical Notions, Logical Distinctions, and a long train of Arguments, which gives the Mind a fa∣tigue to gain the Knowledge it aims at; whereas the Poetic Philosopher proposes a fairer, more adequate, compendious and comprehensive In∣struction, which the Mind is so far from labouring to Unriddle, and Understand, that it at fi•…•…st sight perceives it, is in Love with its Beauty, and gree∣dily takes the charming Impressions it gives, whilst convey'd into it by Melodious Numbers, betwitch∣ing Expression, Mighty Thoughts, and Illustrious Examples. That Great Poet and Critic Horace declares how sit he thinks Poetry for the Instru∣ction of Youth in the First Epistle of the Second Book.

Os tenerum pueri balbum{que} Poet a figurat; Torque: ab obscaenis jam nunc sermonibus aurem: Mox etiam P•…•…ctus praeceptis format amicis Asperitatis, & Invidiae, corrector & Irae, &c.

The other admirable Verses that follow these, you are, Sir, extreamly well acquainted with, which so beautifully set off the several Advantages of Po∣etry. And Hieronimus Vida (one of the best Ita∣lian Poets that have writ in I atin as Rapin assures us) in the First Book of his Poetics is of the same Mind—

Postquam igitur primas sundi puer bauserit artes Jam nunc incipiat rig•…•…s acced•…•…re fontes Et Phaebum, & Dulces Musas ass•…•…escat Amarc.

Add to this what Horace says in his de Arte Poetica

—Fuit h•…•…c Sapientia quondam Publica privatis secernere, sacra Prophanis, &c.

and the Ten following Verse which I have not room here to quote. Erasmus, that wanted n•…•… Wit, calls i•…•… a Banquet compos'd of all the Deli∣cacies, and Q•…•…intessence of all other Arts, and Sciences. And Melan•…•…hon places the Excellence of Poetry for the penetration into Mens Minds, next to the Sacred Scriptures, especially Tra∣gedy.

P•…•…ets being, as you see, the Darling Sons of the Gods, born to gr•…•…t and sublime things, and

the Corrector' and Guides of Common Life, they have not, without Reason, been esteem'd by the greatest Monarchs and Potentates of the World, and made Instructors and Tutors to Kings, and Princes: I speak of true Poets, not of of the lit∣tle Mushromes of Parnassus, the Street-repeating Poetasters. Thus Linus was the Tutor to Hercu∣les, the tamer of Monsters, and Tyrants: And Alexander the Great, with veneration, respected Homer, as the Guide, and Director of his •…•…ife, reading his Works daily, in the heat and hurry of the Conquest of the World, and slept with them under his Pillow. Ennius instructed that great General Scipio African•…•…s in Poetry, which he judg'd so advantageous to him, that he took him with him in his most weighty Expeditions, and chose to be Bury'd in the same Tomb with the Poet. Nothing has to me given a greater in∣stance of Caesar's value for Poets, than the Wel∣come he gave Catullus to his Table, the same day he had fix'd such a Brand of Infamy upon him as remains in Catullus his Works to this day. Au∣gustus, both the Patron, and Judge of the Muses, Caress'd that Noble Pair of Poets, Horace and Vir∣gil•…•… •…•…s his most intimate and bosom Friends, ho∣nor'd them as his Masters, and shower'd his Bene∣ficent Favours on them, who, without doubt in return, introduc'd him to the Sacred Penetralia of the Muses, the divine Retreats of Apollo: which made this Emperor keep the Birth-day of Virgil e'ery Year, as if 'twere the auspicious Feast of his own Success. The Emperor Julian made the

Creek Lyric Poet Ba•…•…bylides his Master, or Dire∣ctor; and Gratian after he had made a great pro∣gress in the most generous of Learning, he ho∣nour•…•…d and advanc'd his Master Ausonius ev'n to the Consulship. And Arcadius and Honorius ere∣cted a Monument to the Memory of Claudian, in the forum of Trajan.

•…•…t nothing, in my opinion, challenges the E•…•…eem of the World more for this Art, than that i•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thus the Barbarity, and Sordidness that so generally rules Mankind, and destroys, that Happiness we falsly aim at by other means,

Emollit Mores (as Ovid has it) nec sinit esseferos.

A Man may be a Divine, and yet be Covetous, and Deceitful, two Banes of Piety, Religion, and Morality; but a Poet cannot be guilty either of Avarice or Deceit, I mean a True Poet, a Virgil, a Horace, A Dryden, a Waller. And,

—Si carmina •…•…ndes Nunquam te fallant animi sub vulpe latentes. Hor. Art. Poet.

And,

—Vatis avarus, (num: Non•…•… m•…•…re est animus: Versus amat hoc siudet u- 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉, Incendia ridet: N•…•…n fr•…•…dom So•…•…o, Pue•…•…e 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ullam 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 s•…•…undo 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 piger & Malu•…•…, u•…•…lis Urbi.

There is no need of prosecuting the point of Esteem the Poets have been in, in the better A∣ges of the World, I will not therefore insist on the Seven Cities of Greece, that strove for the Glory of Giving Birth to Homer, nor on Alexander, who, when he took, sack'd, and burnt Thebes, spar'd the House of Pindor, and sixt this Verse over the Door.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Burn not Pindar's House,

the same respect was shew'd his House by the La∣cedemonians when they destroy'd Thebes. I'll say nothing of the honour paid to the Memory of Schesitorus, in the Octogonal Monument at the Gates of Catana in Sicily. 'Twou'd be superfluous to take notice of the Value Polycrates had for Ana∣cr•…•…n, Archelaus for Euripides, the King of Aegypt and Maced•…•…n for Menander, Ptolo•…•…aeus Philadelphus for Callimachus; and what I have said before of the Latins may suffice. But 'tis no wonder that the Politer Nations shou'd have this Esteem for the Divinest of Arts, since the very Danes, look'd upo•…•… •…•…f Old as more Barbarous, have yet disco∣ver•…•… •…•…ll a-long such a veneration for Poets, and Poesie, that on the Death of one of their Kings, they exalted a Poet to the Throne, as the most worthy to succeed the Prince, he cou'd Praise so well; as Saxo Grammaticus, and Joan. Bocerus •…•…estifie.

Without doubt by this time 'tis sufficiently evi∣dent. That if any Art merits Esteem, either for the Antiquity of its Origine, or the Nobility of its Subject, Poetry must be granted the Preroga∣tive of Precedence in Honor. Wherefore I shall say no more for a Proof of these two points of its Original and Subject, but now turn our Conside∣ration to the third Branch of my Division, viz. The End and Profit, or advantage of Poetry.

The Philosophers lay down two principal kinds of Studies, which are indeed different, but not opposite; that is, the Contemplative and the Pra∣ctical, and they give the preference to the former, because Contemplation is pleasant for and in its self, and therefore more Noble; but the Practical quatenus practical is so only in regard of some∣thing else, and therefore less Noble than Contem∣plation. But 'tis sufficiently evident, that the Stu∣dy of Poetry is for the most part Contemplative: Since no Poet is capable of forming any Noble Poem, with elaborateness and perfection, unless he first dispose his Speculations, and before consi∣der, and weigh the Materials, and the peculiar Artifice that must be us'd in setting them off to their best advantage, and in the true Ligh•…•… •…•…nd Colours. And one thing is here to be ob•…•…d, That a Poet through his whole performance, both whil'd he contrives, invents, and puts his Thoughts in Metre, is still at the same time contemplating, so that he's compos'd of Speculation and Action, whereas other Studies either only contemplate, or only precisely put in Execution the destin'd A∣ctions.

First therefore, in that way Poetry is Use∣ful in its self, and therefore admitting the former Axiom of the Philosophers, to be valu'd and per∣su'd, because Speculative. And Secondly, 'Tis Useful in regard of something else, because the Poetical Writings chiefly contain, the most beau∣tiful, and inviting Doctrines, and Instructions, the best of Precepts for the happy and laudable directing of our Lives; Noble Sayings, and Deeds, Virtues, Rights and Manners of Nations. From all which, that may be chosen for the common benefit of Mankind, that is most justly imitable, and worthy in Virtue, that avoided, that is most abominable and detested in Vice.

Contemplation and Thinking is peculiarly the Po∣et's Business, on this Depends all the Beauties of Thought, and Expression. By using much to Think, they come to a justness and trueness of Thought, they run not away by halves, with imperfect Appearances that please the Ima∣gination; they are not taken with all that gli∣sters, but by much Thinking dive into the Na∣ture of Things, and fix the Judgment to decide the Truth, or falsity of what is Charming, and Be•…•…tiful, and what seems so, at a sudden view. H•…•…e proceed Justness, Proportion and Uarmo∣ny, without all which a Poet loses half his Glory, and Reputation with good Judges. From hence 'tis evident, That the End of Poetry is Noble, since it reaches the greatest Pleasure and the su∣rest Profit, of our Minds, and of our Life. Since 'tis directed to the Praise, of the Omnipotent, the

Celebration of Virtues, the Rewards and Glory of Noble Acts, the Punishment and Infamy of Evil: Since to it we owe all the increases of our Knowledge; and finally, since it effects all these nobler l•…•…nd, it aims at.

But methinks, Sir, I hear you say, What needs all this to prove the Excellence of a Science, that carries a Natural Worth with it, and that so clearly, that like an innate Principle 'tis confess'd by all self-evident? for there is none, however dull, but does, or has attempted Poetry, with more or less success, whil'st other Artts, and Sci∣ences are not so universally caress'd. All pretend not to Philosophy, Mathematics, Law, Physic, or desire to be thought Proficients in those Arts; but ev'ry one wou'd be thought a Poet, as if with∣out being so, he cou'd not be thought a Man, so essential to Mankind does the universal and una∣nimous Ambition and Aim at it of ev'ry Man make it. I grant you, Sir, this is a sufficient Ar∣gument to any sensible Man, that considers it. But how few reflect on this, when they run down what they cou'd not obtain on their Endeavour; the greatest Railer against this divine Art, wou'd be proud to Father an excellent Poem. •…•…d it must be granted by them, That the greate•…•… •…•…hi∣losophers. Historians, Orators, Physicians, Divines, Princes, Kings and Emperors of all Ages have dis∣cover'd this Desire we mention, and have made it evident, That they either were, or fain wou'd be Poets.

To pass over the Hebrews we have already men∣tion'd

among the Roman Emperors, how few but have discover'd this Ambition? Julius Caesar, Au∣gustus, Nero, Adrian, Gratian, Theodosius, Honorius, &c. Those of Julius Caesar.

Feltria perpetuo nivium da•…•…ata rigore Forte mihi posthâc non adeunda vale.

Augustus often exercis'd this Faculty, particularly on Virgil's desire that his Aeneids might be burnt; which begin thus:

Ergone supremis poluit vox improba •…•…rbis Tam-dirum mandare Nefas? Ergo ibit in ignes Magna{que} doctilequi morietur Musa Maronis? &c.

Seneca gives us this Verse of N•…•…o's composing with his Commendatory Introduction, 1. D•…•… Natur. Quaest. Cap. 5. Quid •…•…rgo sit? Colorem non Ima∣•…•…inem ducunt; alioquin ut ait Nero Caesar diser∣•…•…ssime.

Colla Cytheriacae Splendent agitata Columbae.

More of his we might borrow from Persius, if we 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…his Interpreters. Adrian returns the Poet Flor•…•…s his Complement sent him in these Verses,

Ego n•…•…lo Flor•…•…s Esse Amlulare per Tabernas Latitare per popinas Culices pati rotundas.

Nay, he was so very Poetical, that when he wa•…•… a dying, he Versify'd on his Soul,

Anima vagula blandula H•…•…spes comes{que} 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Quae nunc abibis in loca Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Nec ut soles, dabis jocos?

Those that are attributed to Gallienus, have more of a Poet, which he repeated at the Wed∣ding of his Nephews, as Trebell•…•…s Pollio has it; holding them by the Hands;

Ite ait, ô pueri, pariter sudate Medullis Omnibus inter v•…•…s; non 〈◊〉〈◊〉 v•…•…stra columbae Brachta non bederae, non vincant Oscula conchae.

And to say truth, 'tis pitty Gallienus ever spoil'd an Emperor since he wou'd have made an ex∣cellent Poet; for as Tr•…•…bellius confessest, fuit enim Gallienus, quod negari non potest, oratione, Poemate, at{que} Omnibus artibus Clarus. For Gallienus was, says he, •…•…inent in Oratory; Po•…•…try, and all other Arts. And indeed his horrid Remissions proceed∣ed from his being concent with whateve•…•… for∣tune wou'd let him have; he wanted Ambition, and was, as Horace describes a Poet M•…•…litiae piger & malus. Jul•…•…n's Epigrams are to be found in the Anthology; and Ausonius informs us, that Theod•…•…sius was no small pretender to Poetry in these Verses.

Bellandi fandi{que} potens Augustus, honorem Bis meret, ut geminet titulas: qui praelia Musis Temperat, & Get•…•…m M•…•…deratur Apolline Martem. Arma inter C•…•…bros{que} truces, furt•…•…{que} nocentes Sauromatas, quantum cessat de tempore belli Indulget lat•…•…s tantum inter castra Camaenis, &c.

In short, tho' the Spirit of Poetry decay'd a∣mong the Romans, with their Empire, yet was there scarce one that did not make some preten∣ces to the Muses. Nay, look among the Clergy of former Ages, and you shall find Popes, Bishops, Cardinals, &c. stand candidates for the Bays, as well as Socrates, Plato, Democritus, Lycurgus, Solon, Aristotle, among the Philosophers and Legislators; among the undignified Divines, Melanchton B•…•…za, •…•…facomatus Art•…•…medes, &c. the Civilians, Ulp•…•…n, Modestinus, Alciatus, Budaeus, Tur•…•…bus, and a great many others, too numerous to be here in∣serted among the Physitians, Ansonius, Fracasto∣rius, Cordus, L•…•…bius Secundus, Sinetius, P•…•…sthius, Sambu•…•…us, &c. Nay, ev'n among the Critics, a morose Generation, the Scaliger's Father and Son, the Dousa's Father and Son, Cam•…•…ranus, Mycillus, Stigelius, &c. among the Historians, Buchanan, Nat•…•… Comes, Lil. Gyraldus, Ra•…•…pius, Meibonius, Baudius, &c. Among the Rheto•…•…itians, Pontanus, Angel. Polit•…•…us, &c.

Thus much for Exotics; but (Sir) should I pretend to number the Poets, and Pretenders to Poetry in our own Nation, as 'twou'd be super∣fluous, so 'twou'd be endless. Search all Ranks

and Degrees of Men, from the Beau Lord, to the homely Swain, a keeping his Sheep, or dri∣ving his Hoggs; and as Cupid, so has Apollo been at work with 'em; the S•…•…lvia's and M•…•…ia's, the Jones and Sue have had their respective Tribute of Rhime, and from the grave Doctor of Divi∣nity, to the little Country Curate, with his Pro∣blematic Crambo's, and Hypothetic Propositions So that there can be no more doubt made of the former Assertion of all Men's Desires and Pre∣tensions to it, than that those are a Proof of its received Excellence.

Before I conclude this Essay, I shall obviate two or three Objections, made by some old morose Sparks, that have out-liv'd that little Sense their more sprightly years afforded them, and some Precisians, that build Piety and Godliness in Spiritual Railings, and a mortify'd Phiz, which are but Feints, or Blinds to Observers.

The first is, that 'tis a very useless and unprofitable Study, no Estates to be got by it, at least in this Age: That it contributes meerly to Pleasure, not to our knowledge. To the first I answer, that 'tis very true, that there is no hopes of rising to be an Alderman by Poetry; but then I must tell them, 'tis not for those to apply themselves t•…•… that place the Desires of their Souls on Mony; for a•…•… they'll never obtain that end by it, so will they never reach any Excellence in the Art, as being not destin'd by nature to it; for to a Poet, Hea∣ven gives a large and noble Soul, above the Nar∣row aim of Baggs and Hords of Treasure; and

thus far I shall grant it an unprofitable Study, as Petronius Arbiter has witness'd long ago:

Qui Pelago 〈◊〉〈◊〉, magno se saenore t•…•…llit Qui Pugnas, & Castra petit, prae•…•…ngitur Auro, Vilis Adulat•…•…r picto jacet •…•…brius Ostr•…•…, Et qui s•…•…llicitat 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ad Praem•…•… peccat: Sola Pruinosis b•…•…rrel Facundia Pannis At{que} 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lingu•…•… desert invocat Artes.

No, there are the roating Billows, The Camp, the Court, and the City allotted by Fate for those that thirst for Wealth; the Muses love Tranqui∣lity, an Easie and Contented State, and teach their Darlings, that

Nec vixit male qui Natus mori ens{que} fefellit.

The Riches the Poet gains is Fame: It termi∣nates not with this life like Money, and Estate, nor can his Spendthrift Son lavish the mighty Store he has laid up, as the Miser's Son does what his Father got from Fools or Knaves. Nay, the Usefulness of this Study is opposite to getting Estates as they are generally got: It punishes Ava∣rice, rewards Generosity, softens the Mind from Barbarity to Compassion for the Miseries of others, cleanses it from Deceit and Hypocrisie, elevates it from little base Designs, to Noble and Open Actions, and so through all the Ends and Uses of this Divine Art.

As to the Second that it contributes meerly to our Pleasure, not Knowledge, that is evidently false, both from what has been said, and from a Con∣sideration that it yields not only a Necessary, but Noble Knowledge, that is, of Men, of Manners, of Virtue, &c. Nor is there any Study or Art but has been attempted in Poetry, as a short view will ma•…•… eviden•…•…. To pass over David and the He∣brews Poets, whose Excellencies are lost by the gene∣ral Ignorance, not only of the Language they wrote in, but the Custom, &c. on which many of the Beauties depend. Orpheus, Horner, Pindar, Ho∣race, &c. have celebrated the Praises of the Di∣vine Power, tho' under the Names of their Sup∣posititious Gods, and Goddesses. Among the Chri∣stians, we •…•…ind Prudentius, Juven•…•…us, Arator, Vi∣das, Mauri•…•…us, Sa•…•…azarius, Vul•…•…eius, and an in∣•…•…able Company of Sa•…•…red Writers. Astro∣logy, Astronomy, &c. has been treated of by •…•…ius, Aratus, Palingenius, Manillius, Bucha∣nan, &c. Physic's by H•…•…siod, Ma•…•…er, Lucretius, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and others. Husbandry by Hesiod, Virgil, &c. Pastoral 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Spor•…•…s, The•…•…critus, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Dantes, &c. Hunting has been dis•…•…urs'd of by Gratius Nemesianus, Natales Co∣•…•…, &c. Tragedy (which affords us a hundred •…•…able •…•…essons of Knowledge, and Improve∣ment) we owe chiefly to Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Eurip•…•…s 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I think our English Tragedians, have ex•…•…ell'd them, particularly Mr. Dryden, who in 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ll always think, has 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ou•…•… done Soph•…•…les Then for the

Acts of Heroes, we have Homer, Virgil, Pin•…•… Lucan, S•…•…atius, Cowly, Sir William D'Avenant 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this is a sort of Poem which Horace think, more Instructive than Philosophy, in his second Epistle of his first Book to Lollius.

Trojani belli scrip•…•…orem maxime Lolli, Dum tu d•…•…clamas Romae, Praen•…•…ste relegi (quidnon, Quiquid sit 〈◊〉〈◊〉, quid Turpe, quid Utile, Ple•…•…us ac melius Chrysipp•…•… & Crantore di•…•…s.

Nor are the Amorous Essays of Ana•…•…, Sappho, Gallus, Catullus, Ovid, H•…•…race, Tibullus, Pr•…•…per∣tius, with abundance of the Moderns, to be thought ill of by the Precisians, as we shall by and by prove, but granted Improvers o•…•… our Know∣ledge in the Nature of the passions, the fatigues, and pleasures of •…•…ove, as well as the Dangers and Impertin•…•…ces of Intrigue. Opp•…•… wrote o•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Nicander of Antidotes against the •…•…iting of Vene∣mous Beasts, of Herbs, and Ga•…•…dening. Ma•…•…r and Palladius, of Plants. Mr. Cowly, of Medicine, S•…•…renus, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and M•…•…llus: Of Weights, and Measures, Q 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Fa•…•…us 〈◊〉〈◊〉; which Book by some is attributed to 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉, and Pythagoras, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in Verse of the Precepts of Virtue, and Solon, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, of Poli•…•…s or the Administration o•…•… the Common Wealth: Wholsom, and Inst•…•…uctive Satyr, H•…•…race, Juvenal, Persius, Mr. Dryden, Mr. W•…•…herly in his Plain∣•…•… •…•…ler, and other Poets have given us; nor are the little 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to be •…•…orgot, having

their Use and Diversion, tho', I confess my self no Admirer of that sort of Poetry, if it merit that Name.

From hence 'tis Evident, That we may not only learn all that can be advantageous to our Knowledge, and by consequence that the accu∣sation is false, that it serves only to Pleasure; but also that All things that are the Subjects of this Soveraign of Sciences.

There remains yet an Objection, some Men make no finall bustle about, viz.

That Poetry is too prophane in making use of so many false Gods, and Goddesses, Fanus, Satyrs, and Nymphs, and the rest of the gay Race of Fancy; and that they scatter the Seeds of Debauchery in the Minds of Youth, by their Amorous Verses, their Lustful Songs, &c. for which Reason ev'n Plato Banish'd them from his Common-Wealth.

The first part of this Objection, I'm confident, you'll think extreamly ridiculous, and that it me∣rits not to be taken Notice of. But when you shall remember that in the Third Century the Chri∣stians were so Zealous, as to forbid the reading of all Heathen 〈◊〉〈◊〉, particularly Poets, on th•…•… A•…•…count, and consider, that we have some still 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the same Mind here in England, that wou'd not have the Name of Jupiter, Mars, and Venus (no, not in Pr•…•…pria quae Maribus) come into their Childrens Mouths, especially their Worships, their •…•…overs &c. I hope you will allow that 'tis not wholly unnecessary to clear ev'n this Objection.

'Tis true, these Fables cannot be condemn'd by any, but by those who are incapable to dive into the admitable use of 'em. They must con∣sider, that ev'ry Art, as well as ev'ry Language. has its peculiar Beauties and Prop•…•…ieties of Elo∣cution, to take which away (especially if, as Poets particularly do, we represent Antiquity) is to render it almost insipid, and without its most taking quality Pleasure, that best conveys Instru∣ction. Rob Poetry of this Be•…•…uty of the Fables and the Gods 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mean the ancient Poems, so full of admirable Instruction by their means given us with Pleasure, and Delight) and you destroy the Excellence of the best of Poets, rend•…•…ing their Po∣ems Imperfect, and •…•…ame; and if any Christian Poets makes use of these Gods, there is no fear certainly of their paying them any Vene•…•…ation, when they only employ them as the Vehicles of their Designs. But enough on this Point.

The other of the Looseness of Amorous Verses; 'tis a part of the Knowledge of the World, to have a perfect view of all the Effects of Love, all its Ways, Manners, and Expressions, and those who forbid the Reading of these, take away an admi∣rable Guide to those that must Live where not to be in Love, or have to do with those that are so, is impossible, and Scandalous ev'n in the P•…•…ence. There are other advantages of the •…•…wdest Essays of this Nature, which a Man of Sense will make of them, and none, indeed, shou'd read those •…•…ut such. And that Plato banish'd Poets out of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Common-Wealth, yet cou'd he write things

of a more lewd Strain than the Worst of 'em, witness these Verses on the Kissing of Agatho, done from his Greek by Decimus Laberius.

Dum Semibulco savio Meum Puellum Savior Duleem{que} storem Spiritûs Duco ex aperto Tramite: Anima tunc aegra & Sauci•…•… Cueurrit ad Labia mihi, Rictum{que} in or is pervium Et labra pueri Mollia Rim•…•…a •…•…neri transitus Ut transiliret nititur. Tum si, morae quid plusculae F•…•…sset in Co•…•…u Oscula Amoris igni percita Transisset, & me linqueret. Et •…•…ra prorsum res foret, Ut ad me fierem Mortuus Ad pu•…•…rum ut intus Viverem.

Petronius himself has scarce gone beyond this with his Gyt•…•…n, &c. And his

Qualis nox fuit illa dii deae{que} Quam Mollis tor•…•…us! haes•…•…mus calentes Et trans•…•…udimus hinc, & hinc labellis Errantes animas. Valete curae! Mortalis ego sic perire 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Plato's Republic was but a Eutopia at best, and aim'd at new ways of forming the Minds of Men by Laws, not so agreeable perhaps to Man's Na∣ture, as more Politic Legislators have compos'd, who receiv'd this Noble Art, and honor'd its Professors with Public Veneration; being sen∣sible that it was the surest, and best In•…•…ctrix of Mankind, but that it gave Immortality to those that favour'd it with their Protection, and Generosity.

O sacer, & magnus vatum labor, omn•…•… Fato, Eripis, & populis donas mortalibus •…•…vum.

Whoever wou'd raise his Mind above the Vulgar tast, and form in his Breast noble Designs, must apply himself to a reading of the Poets; as Petro∣nius Arbiter has it.

Artis severae siquis amat essectus Mentein{que} Magnis applicat— —〈◊〉〈◊〉 pr•…•…os versibus annos Mae•…•…m{que} bibat faeli•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fontem.

As there is a Natural Excellence in being a Poet, so is there in Esteeming one and nothing, shews the Degeneracy of an Age more, in Honor, as well as sense, than a Contempt of this Divine Science, and the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Masters of it. So that I must in•…•…er that this Present Age is at a very low Ebb of Both; that, tho' bless'd with as great Po∣ets as ever Greece or Rome produc'd has so very

little regard to them, as not to make Public Sa∣crifices of its Dross to the Use of Two such Ex∣traordinary Men. There is a Plebeian Genius spread among us, and Generous and Noble Acts, are contemn'd and laugh'd at. But then, Sir, in so general a Defect to be Singular in Tast, chal∣lenges the more Honor; and this makes me a∣sham'd to offer so unpolish'd and hasty a piece as this at your Feet, who are not only an excellent Judge of the most difficult Things, and ev'n in the first Bloom of your Youth, have Master'd the whole Circle of the Sciences, but also have a pecu∣liar Esteem for this I plead for, and by your ad∣mirable Choice of those you converse with, shew you can let none of your Hours be lost, either with tristing Books in your Study, or Impertinent Cox∣combs in your Conversation: I shou'd not have the Vanity to say this, were I so happy as to be often bless'd with your Company, I catch it but now and then unwilling to make you do Pen∣nance for my Satisfaction; and this Consideration will oblige me to put an end to this Essay, only desiring your leave publickly to declare my self what I am; That is,

SIR,

Your real Friend and humble Servant.

To Mr. T. S. in Vindication of Mr. Mil∣ton's Paradise lost.

SIR,

YOU will pardon me, I am confident, tho' in Opposition to your Thoughts, I positive∣ly declare my self extreamly well pleas'd with that part of Mr. Milton's most excellent Poem, to which you discover the least Inclination: Those Antient, and consequently less Intelligible Words, P•…•…rases, and Similies, by which he frequently, and purposedly affects to express his Meaning, in my Opinion do well suit with the Venerable Antiquity, and Sublime Grandeur of his Subject. And how much soever some Unthinking have Condemn'd this his Choice. You, who have Maturely weigh'd, how much deeper an Impres∣sion less us'd, (so they be what you will grant his always are) Significant words, make on a Rea∣ders fancy, than such as are more common; (you I say) must pay a vast deference to Mr. Milton's great Judiciousness in this particular, no less than to his entire Manage of every part of that Charm∣ing Poem, in which upon every Occasion he dis∣covers himself a perfect, unimitable Master of Language. Here are you forc'd to give a pro∣found Attention to the Universal Creator, speaking like that Almighty, who by the Fiat of

his Mouth made all things, and yet so Gracious are All his Expressions, as if he valued himself more on his Good Will to Man, than on his Prero∣gative over him: There, shall you read Man, ad∣dressing himself Submissively like a Creature, who owes his Being to a better, wiser, and higher power, and yet not so Abjectly, but you will ea∣sily perceive him to be Lord of the whole Creati∣on. Elsewhere, you may see an Angel discovering himself, not a Little Man's Superior by Creation, in Place and Power more, but in Knowledge most of all. In another place, behold Woman, appear∣ing Inferi•…•…r to both these, and yet more Ambiti∣ous than 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but then softer, much in her Make and Manners, than her rougher Spouse, whom down right Sincerity, and unaffe•…•…d plainness, seem mostly to Delight. Nor can I now forget with what vast complacency we have o•…•…t together read the most Natural, Lively, yet (as their Sexes) diffe∣rent Descriptions, our first Parents, separately make of their own Apprehensions of themselves, at their first finding themselves Living Creatures. Nay, the very fallen Angels are much Honour'd above the best of their deserts, by the Amazing Relation, we there meet with of their Ambition, Malice, Inveteracy, and Cunning; and never was Scene, so livelily shown, as that of his Pandaemo∣nium in the first Book. Once more, and you are no le's astonisht at his Description, than he makes the Angels, to be at the Report of their Adversa∣ries Thund•…•…ing Fire-works. And yet, if his Matter requires a Meaner Style, how much soever

he speaks Loftily at one time, at another does, even to a Miracle, suit his Speech to his Subject. This (I well know) has been censur'd in him for Servile 〈◊〉〈◊〉; but if 'tis well consider'd, upon what proper Occasion he thus hum∣bles his Style, 'twill be Accounted, (as really it is) his Great Commendation: But in praise of Mr. Mil∣ton's admirable Dexterity in this his Matchless Performance, since All I can say must come exceed∣ing short of his due Merit, that I bring not my self under the Correction of that known saying. Praestat de Carthagine tacere quam pauca dicere. I shall venture to add no more but this; tho' the Composing such a compleat Poem on such, a no less Obscure, than weighty Subject, was a Task to be perform'd by Mr. Milton only, yet 'tis not out of doubt, whether himself had ever been able so to Sing of Unrevealed Heavenly Mysteries, had he not been altogether depriv'd of his Outward Sigh•…•…, and thereby made capable of such continued 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Inward Speculations: as he who has the us•…•… of his Bodily Eyes, cannot possibly become possest with. This however must be Granted, as indubi∣tably true; The bountiful Powers above, did more than make him amends for their taking away his Sight, by so Illumining his Mind, as to enable him most compleatly to •…•…ng of Matchless Beings, Matchless Things, before unknown to, and even un∣thought of by the whole Race of Men; thus re∣warding him for a Temporary Loss, with an Eter∣nal Fame, of which Envy it self shall not be able

ever to deprive this best of Poems, •…•…ir its most Judicious Author.

In this Faith I Subscribe my self,

SIR,

Yours, &c.

To J. H. Esq In Answer to the Questi∣on, Who was the Greatest English-Man.

SIR,

I Am extreamly sensible under how many dis∣advantages I undertake the Resolution of your demand, who was the greatest Englishman? And but that I have this Satisfaction left me, that where the Meanness of my Thought is Inconsi∣stent with the Eminency of his Virtues, and my ill management of the whole, looks like a lessen∣ing the Grandeur of his Actions, you will disco∣ver at once Goodness enough to pardon me, and to entertain an agreeable Opinion of my Heroe; (but for this I say) I had not dar'd thus to ex∣pose my own Weakness, and his Worthiness.

SIR,

I have pitch'd upon Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and Viceregent of England, for this Man of Ten Thousand: A Man, who by his Merit a∣lone rais'd himself from the meanest Condition, to the highest Honour: A Man in nothing un∣happy, so much as to have liv'd in the Reign of Henry the VIII. of whom it was truly said,

That he never spar'd Woman in his Lust, or his best Favourite in the Wrath.

In whose chiefest Esteem our Cromwell did yet a long time remain: Admir'd by his Friends, dreaded by his Enemies, carest by all, and in one Word, invested with a more Extensive Power, than any Subject of England was ever before, or since possess'd of. He was born at Putney, in Surrey, where his Father liv'd, an honest Blacksmith. In all the little Passages of his Youth, he discover'd an Active Tow'ring Disposition, fond of Travel∣ling, and covetous of Employments, much great∣er than his Descent, or Education could pretend to; tho' Nature, the better to qualifie him for the Grandeur, to which he was design'd, had en∣dow'd him with an apprehensive Wit, a discern∣ing Judgment, a prodigious Memory, a Florid Elocution, and a resolute Soul, not to be discom∣posed by the greatest Dangers.

By what helps he crost the Seas, I know not; but there I find him in the Year 1510. perfect in many Languages. and after a while associating himself to some Persons, deputed by the Town of Boston, to procure them two Pardons, for

which they had been long Solliciting in vain at Rome. Cromwell observing that the Delays caus'd by the Pope's Ministers, proceeded only from their Griping Disposition, resolv'd by a Witty Stratagem to effect that, which by Reason and Importuni∣ty he could not: having one day prepar'd some delicious Jellies after the English manner, as the Pope was returning from Hunting, he approach'd him with these, and a Song, wherewith the Old Father Julius being extreamly delighted; upon Enquiry after their Business and Country, he im∣mediately stamp'd their Pa•…•…dons, and order'd 'em a Dispatch, having first learnt the Manners of preparing a Dish so agreeable to his Holiness's Pa∣late. And this little Contrivance is the more remarkable; for that the Court of Rome, which goes beyond all others in Intriguing, were hereby fairly Outwitted: He served afterwards in the Duke of 〈◊〉〈◊〉's Army at the Siege of Rome, and was in the French Camp at the Defeat of Gatillion; as yet he had no true Sense of Religi∣on, tho' after his Journey to Rome, in which he got the N•…•…w Testament by Heart, he began to be be ter acquainted with the Principles of Christia∣nity. Upon his Return into England, finding Car∣dinal Wolsey the only Man in Favour, he enter'd into his Service, and advanced himself therein consider∣ably, by acquitting himself faithfully of all things, wherewith he was intrusted; here he discover'd such forwardness in the suppressing of several Mo∣nasteries, given by the King to the Cardinal his Master for building Christ's Colledge, Oxon; as

that thereby he procur'd himself such abundance of ill Will from the Superstitious, as that after the Cardinals Fall, he was represented to the King, as the worst of Men; and the King, the more easi∣ly credited, reports against him, because with much Zeal, and as much Ingenuity he pleaded the Cardinals Cause in the House of Commons, (of which he was then a Member) and this his Fi∣delity, to his declining Master, is the more wor∣thy Praise, for that 'tis rare indeed to see any one stand by a Falling Favourite.

When Cromwell felt the Dissolution of Wolsey's Family, he endeavour'd to get into the King's Service; which Sir Christopher Hales, Master of the Rolls, and my Lord. Russell happily brought about, tho' the King (as has been said) was pre∣possest exceedingly to his disadvantage: My Lord (with a Goodness inseparable from his Family) earnestly sollicited his Promotion, not only out of Gratitude (Cromwell having sav'd his Life at B•…•…nonia) but also because he sound him most for∣ward to promote a Reformation in Religion, to which his Lordship stood well affected; and it was •…•…ne Great Argument, made use of to move the King) to favour him, that he was the most fit of •…•…ll others to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Int•…•…igues of the Popish Clergy. The King, after having admitted him to his Presence, ask'd him some Questions, and heard his Complaints against the most Eminent •…•…ticklers for the Popes Supremacys: and as a mark of his special Favour, he gave him the Ring from his Finger, and sent him to the Con∣vocation,

which he having the King's Signet bold∣ly entred, and seating himself among the Bishops•…•… to their great Amazement and Confusion, tax•…•… them with such Crimes as had brought them in t•…•… such a Premunire, as that thereby (says he) yo•…•… have forfeited all your Goods, Chattels, Lands•…•… and whatever other Benefits you are possess'd of•…•… By this means he enrich'd the King's Coffer wit•…•… 118840 l. which the Clergy had rais'd by Subsidy•…•… that by Act of Parliament they might be quit∣ted from the Premunire, into which Cromwell de∣monstrated they had run themselves.

By such ways he Ingratiated himself very much with the King, who now conferr'd the Honour o•…•… Knighthood upon him, made him Master of th•…•… King's Jewel House, and soon after admitted him into the Privy Councel; 1524 he was made Master of the Rolls, and in the year 1527 he was install'd Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter•…•… and afterwards Created Earl of Essex, and Lor•…•… Great Chamberlain of England; and as the high∣est Mark of the King's Affection and Esteem fo•…•… him, he was constituted Vicegeront in the King•…•… Absence. Thus being rais'd to the very Pinacle o•…•… Honour, like a Politic and Faithful Statesman, h•…•… was continually studying the Security of the Go∣vernment, and the most proper methods for set∣tling Peace and Tranquility throughout the whol•…•… Kingdom; and in order hereunto, he resolved upon Correcting the Vices of the Age, encourage∣ing Vertue, establishing Good Orders, and re∣forming Corruptions: And for that was manifest,

there would not be wanting great Endeavours to subvert the Government: while Monasteries and such like Religious Houses (those Sources of vi∣cious plotting Wretches, whose Interest it was to adhere to the Pope) were not destroy'd, he in∣duc'd the King to suppress 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉, then the small Monasteries, and afterwards the Abbys, till all the Religious Fraternities of that sort in England were dissolv'd. And that he might be sure of Success in his Resolution of settling the Reformed Religion, (of which he was a zealous Asserter, securing the Professors thereof from the Popish Bishops Fury and Rage) he perswades the King to ally himself to some Protestant Prince; and accordingly a Match was made with the La∣dy Ann, Sister to the Prince of Cleve, by whose Protection the Protestants were very much Em∣boldn'd to a more public P•…•…osession of their Reli∣gion. Thus did he fortunately carry on the Re∣formation, to the larger growth, whereof he gave an extraordinary assistance, by obtaining from the King a Grant for publishing the Bible in the English Tongue, whereby many were help'd to discern the Fallacies and Heresies of the R•…•…omish Faith, who before had taken up with what Trash the Priests had put upon 'em. Who now are impor∣tunate for a Convocation, which the King summon'd to adjust Matters of Religion; in this Assembly Cromwell takes place of all the Clergy, by the Ti∣tle of Vicar General, and disputes strennously for the Protestant Faith. But his Zeal on this Ac∣count procur'd him not a few considerable •…•…ne∣mies,

of whom Bishop Gardiner (the most sub∣tle and inveterate of all others) was still labour∣ing to bring about his ruin, which at length, with a great deal of Joy he thought he saw a fit time for the accomplishment of, and herein, indeed, he was not mistaken. The King, by an inconstancy, natural to him, was grown weary of his Queen, and his Love was now plac'd upon the Lady Kathe∣rine Howard; this Gardiner observing, took the Liberty to tell the King, that 'twas absolutely neces∣sary for the Quiet of the Kingdom, and Security of the Succession, to have an English Queen; and at same time, with abundance of Cunning, he in•…•…igates the King against Cromwell, as the sole Cause of his unhappy Marriage with Q. Ann; and this so wrought upon his Majesty, (who was ever violent in his Love and Hatred) that imagining Cromwell was the only Obstacle to the Repudiati∣on of his Wife, and his Match with Katherine, he so hearkn'd to the Accusations of his Enemies, as to give Consent that he should be Arrested 〈◊〉〈◊〉 And accordingly by the Duke of Norfolk he was Arrested in the Council Chamber, and committed to the Tower, where he lay not long before h•…•… was attainted of High Treason. Some of the Ar∣ticles against him were,

That he had dispersed many Erroneous Books contrary to the Faith of the Sacrament; that he had Licens'd many Preachers, suspected of Heresie; that he said he would not turn to the Pope's Obedience, tho' the King turn'd; but if the King did turn, he would fight in person against him; and drawing out hi•…•…

Dagger, wish'd that might pierce him to the Heart if he shou'd not do it; that hearing some Lords were plotting against him, he threaten'd he'd raise great Stirs in England.

Tho' accus'd both of High Treason and Heresie, his Enemies durst not b•…•…ing him to a Tryal; but against all Law and Justice he was condemn'd, while con∣fin'd to the Tower; during his Imprisonment he requested one of the Commissioners, sent to treat with him, to carry from him a Letter to the King; which he refusing with passion, and saying he'd carry no Letter from a Traytor: Cromwell ask'd him only to deliver a Message from him, and upon his Consent.

You shall recommend me to the King, (says Cromwell) and let him understand that by that time he hath so well try'd you, and thoroughly prov'd you, as I have done, he shall find you as false a Man, as ever came about him.

In all his adversity he was patient to a Miracle; and when on the 28th of July he was brought to the Scaffold, and beheaded on Tower-Hill, he behav'd himself with all the Gallantry and Constancy of a Resolv'd Christian. He ut∣ter'd fervent Prayers, and made a short Speech, wherein he said he dy'd in the Catholic Faith, meaning thereby no more (as from his whole Life, and even at his Death, wherein he us'd no Popish Ceremony, it must be concluded) than that he dy'd in the true Christian Catholic Faith. Thus fell this Great Man, and with him for a long time did the Reformation seem to lie dead; his Death, who was the chief Instrument in it, putting such a

stop to that imperfect work, that not Cran•…•… himself, in that King's Reign, cou'd ever afterwards gain any Ground for it: Nay, rather did it decline, for several Preachers of the Reformed R•…•…ligion were burnt in a short time after; by all which it appears, how great a Loss the Church sustain'd, in being depriv'd of so able and powerful a Mem∣ber, who more than any, oppos'd himself with Great Zeal against the Impudences and Contri∣vances of the Pope's Subtle and Malicious Agents.

I shall not tire your patience, if I recite a pas∣sage or two of this Brave Man's extraordinary Ge∣nerosity. It is but too common for those, who from a low degree, are rais'd to a high Estate, to look with the greatest Contempt upon such, who have most oblig'd them; but our Cromwell in the full Enjoyment of all his Dignities, bore himself with a Moderation, peculiar to himself. Witness his taking notice of a poor Woman, who kept a Victu∣alling-House, and had formerly trusted him to the value of 4•…•… s. whom espying, as he was riding thro' Cheapside, he order'd to be call'd to him; and after having acknowledg'd the Debt, he sent her to his House, discharged that, and gave her an Annual Pension of Four Pound, and a Livery, during Life. But what follows is much more remarka∣ble; As he was riding with some Nobles to the King's Palace, he saw one footing it in the Streets, whom he thought he knew, immediately ord'ring his whole Train to await him; he lights off his Horse, upon Enquiry, finding him the Man he took him for, he embraces the Mean Stranger;

and to the Wonderment of all about him, invites him to Dinner: his hast at that time prevented a longer stay; and therefore he left the amazed Stranger, who Enquiring his Name of my Lord's Attendants, began to be troubled with the refle∣ctions which this unexpected Accident gave him. Cromwell, who had stay'd some time with the King, at his return home, finds him attending in the Court Yard, where again Embracing him, he takes him to his Table, and after some time finding the Lords who accompanied him, no less surpriz'd at his Condescention than was the Stranger: he makes 'em this Relation; You wonder to see me thus Obliging, but you will be more amaz'd when I tell you I am more Indebted to this Very Man, than to the whole World beside; for after the defeat of Gatillion, I came to Florence so needy, that being forced to beg an Alms, this Worthy Merchant Mr. Francis Frescobald seeing I knew not what in my Face that pleas'd him upon En∣quiry of what Country I was, pitying me in my Ne∣cessity, he took me home, and gave me a Suit of Ap∣parrel, a Horse and 16 Ducats of Gold to bear my Expences to England; and now turning him about to Mr. Frescobald, And what, Dear Friend, (says he) has brought you hither? The generous Merchant after he had recover'd himself out of the amaze this happy Providence cast him into, told him, That he was become so Poor by his vast Losses, that of all the Wealth he formerly enjoy'd, but 15000 Ducats were left him, and they were Owing him here, and hard to be Got too: Cromwell, after he he had obtain'd a List of his Debtors, sent a Ser∣vant

of his own, in his Name, to Demand those Sums for the Merchant: After Dinner, taking his Friend apart, he gave him first 16 Ducats for those he had receiv'd, then 10 for his Apparrel, and 10 more for his Horse, and at last he Gave him Four Bags, each quantity 400 Ducats for Interest: after all, he passionately requested his stay in England, offering to lend him 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ducats for 4 Years to Trade withal; but Frescobald having by Cromwell's Authority, obtain'd all his Money (preferring be∣fore all his Native Country) after a thousand Ac∣knowledgements made him, return'd for Florence, with a due Sense of this so Extraordinary and Ge∣nerous Entertainment.

But I am afraid, Sir, I grow too much upon your 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and therefore will shut up with the 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 Cra•…•…er gave him in a Letter to the K•…•… on his 〈◊〉〈◊〉—I have fou•…•… (says he) that my Lord Cromwell has always lov•…•… you above all 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 Serv'd you with such Fi•…•…∣lity and S•…•…, 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…e no King of England 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 a be•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and it is my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 t•…•… your Majesty may find a Counsellor who both can and will 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Trust as my Lord Cromwell 〈◊〉〈◊〉 d•…•…ne.

But alas, nothing could move that Inexorab•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉, who 〈◊〉〈◊〉 than •…•…orego his unlawful Lust to the Lady H•…•…ward (whom he dar'd not Marry while Cromwell liv'd) Sacrificed this his Darling 〈◊〉〈◊〉. And tho' it adds Greatly to my Lord 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Fame, that after his Death, he was 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 bewall'd by the King, who fre∣quently

cry'd out for his Cromwell. Yet was not this a due Reparation to England for the •…•…odd of such an Extraordinary Man whose Virtues were so Singular, his Services so Signal, both to the Nation in General, and to the Reformation in particular: whose Zeal to God was so True, whose Temp•…•…rance so Constant in all Conditions; who (in one word) was possess'd of a Courage so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and a Fi∣delity so rare, that I make no doubt you will with me Conclude, a Man Endow'd with all these, and many more Excellent 〈◊〉〈◊〉, well de∣serves the Title of the Greatest Englishman, which therefore I affix to Thomas Cromwell the Great Earl of Essex, and so conclude,

SIR,

Yours, &c. J. J.

Cloe to Urania, against Womens being Learn'd.

I Have, my dear Urania, so ill defended the the Cause you always 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that Lysander has convinc'd me that Lea•…•…ning is not for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Sex; but before I make an entire delivery of my Judgment to his Arguments; I thought sit to send them, as well as I can remember them, to Urania,

to see what influence they'll have on her; and how she'll defend the Point against an Opponent, she has often so well handl'd without one.

Lysander will have it, That Learning in common Prudence ought by the Men to be deny'd us; since it wou'd not only make us proud, and im∣perious, and aspire to the command over Men; which, as we might by such Auxiliary force easily obtain, the Charms of the Body alone giving us too great an Ascendant over Men; so we shou'd not want the desire of obtaining it, having got the means. Secondly, That since, as he will have it, we were design'd by God for Obedience, not Rule; to be instructed by our Husbands, and to study only Houshold Affairs, it wou'd be Impious to raise us from the Office Nature had allotted us, to a Nobler Station. Thirdly, That Learned Women are seldom Chast, Learning dis∣posing 'em to Inconstancy, and Infidelity to their Husbands in longing for foreign Embraces, and that betwixt a Womans Desire and Act, there is nothing but Opportunity.

This, in short, is the Substance of what he urg'd tho' with more advantageous Circumstan∣ces of a •…•…ine turn of words, and several Examples to confirm his Assertions, which whether true or false, I cannot determine. But one thing I must not forget; that he much urg'd a Book call'd, Advice to a Daughter, the Authority of which was too much Establish'd for me to Condemn. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 leave the whole to the Judicious, and Ingenio•…•… Urania, whom I, and ev'ry one must own the be•…•…

Advocate for our Sex. But tho' I'll never dispute that Prize with you, yet I shall always that of which of us is the best Friend, and you must con∣fess, that I am without reserve

your Sincere, and Faithful Cloe.

An Answer to the foregoing Letter in Defence of Womens being Learn'd. URANIA to CLOE.

I Receiv'd yours; my Charming Cloe, the be∣ginning of the last Week, but the Niceness of the Subject, wou'd not permit me to send you an immediate Answer, being too much, at that time, taken up with other Affairs; but having now got an Hour to my self, I shall cursorily con∣sider the weight of Lysander's Objections.

Lysander, I must confess, is a Man of a great d•…•… of Wit, and delivers his Arguments on any Subject with that address, that they appear much stronger from his Mouth, than in Writing; yet I must assure you, nothing I have yet seen of his carries so little weight, as what you have sent me; which shews how bad a Cause he had undertaken, since it cou'd only furnish him with such weak Supports, as he has produc'd. And I'm confident,

your Love for Lysander, brib'd your Judgment to his side, which you have too much of to submit to such feeble Reasonings.

Learning, he tells you, will add fresh Pride to our Sex, and kindle an Ambition in us of Comman∣ding over that of Man, which we shou'd certainly persue, assisted with so powerful an Auxiliary, since with these Charms Nature has bestow'd on our Bodies, we go so far already, and discover a desire of an abso∣lute Mastery.

This is so Cobweb, and Vulgar a Sophism, that I'm amaz'd to hear it from the Mouth of Lysan∣der. Is he Ignorant of the Nature of Learning? or, is he not very sensible that it teaches one to know ones self? the consequence of which must certainly, in any Woman of sense, produce Hu∣mility, not Pride. It furnishes us with Masculine, nay, Divine Thoughts, that are equally service∣able to our selves, and Husbands. It makes us contemn the designing Flatteries of Men, when they deifie that Beauty, which vanishes in a mo∣ment, and which Fools preserve with so much Care, for a Bair, and Snare to both their own and their Admirers Ruin. Learning teaches Wis∣dom, which can never render us so opposite t•…•… •…•…he Establish'd Oeconomy of the World, as to make us once think so wildly, as to attempt the inverting so prevalent, and inveterate a Custom as the So∣veraignty of the Men. Besides, Nature has form'd us too weak, to effect a Revolution that depends on the Force, and Strength of Body, as well as Mind; since Politics are meer useless The∣ories,

without Able Hands to put 'em in Execu∣tion. But if we must needs suppose this mighty Revolution effected, who wou'd not be willing to be Subject to so agreeable a Power, in which Wisdom, and Beauty join'd. But, my Cloe, does Lysander forget that a great many Women with∣out Learning direct their Husbands, and have a very awful influence over them; but I ear•…•…ing wou'd qualifie that extraordinary Ascendant, by making that Rational, which was before only the blind Effect of Passion and Fondness.

Lysander's Second Objection, That Women were by their Creator design'd for Obedience not Rule; to be instructed by their Husbands not to instruct them; and to Study nothing but their Houshold Affairs.—Partly depends of what has been said to the first. Tho', by the way, Lysander makes a little bold with the Secrets of the Almighty in that Affe•…•…tion, tho' I confess, the Curse that was laid on Eve for her Transgression, might give him occasion to say so, tho' it prove directly the contrary, as my Viridomar, has formerly observ'd; for if Woman was created the Subject, and Vassal of Man, it had been no Punishment to've inflicted that Sub∣jection on her.

But, my Cl•…•…e, I think 'tis evident, that Learn∣ing will not lessen that Obedience it teaches them; which will therefore make them practice it as a Duty of Reason, not Custom, and Imposition, two weighty and provoking Motives of Opposition. As to the Second Branch of this Objection, viz. That we are to be instructed by our Husbands, &c.

Learning save's a Husband that's capable, the La∣bor; and the Husband that is not, the Shame of attempting what he's not able to perform; And by giving him an Emulation of his Wives Virtues, make him endeavour not to be out-done by a Woman, in Masculine, and Rational Excellencies, by improving his Mind with Nobler Qualificati∣ons; and not wholly devote himself to such fordid Employments, and Diversions, which are gene∣rally the whole Business and Entertainment of too many Gentlemen; I mean, the Bottle, the Whore, the Dice, with Hunting, Hawking, Co•…•…∣sing, and the rest of that wretched Train, as if they were born never to think.

I come now to Lysander's last Objection, which is indeed the most infamous of all the Scandals he endeavours to throw on Learned Women, viz. that their Knowledge makes 'em seldom Chast, and breeds in 'em wand•…•…ing Desires.—Were this true, I must own it a very Substantial Argument, and I shou'd yield that all my Sex shou'd be kept from the use of Books as cautiously, as Madmen from Edge-Tools. But, my Cloe, the Assertion is too general to be true, to which I my self cou'd bring not a few Exceptions. The instances he produc'd, tho' you doubt, yet to please him I'll admit, sup∣posing therefore that such and such Learned Wo∣men have been Whores, it still remains, that he prove this was the effect of their Learning, not Nature, and that if they had not been Learned, they wou'd not a' been Whores. A Task, not so easily perform'd. But since a bold Assertion is no

proof of any thing, it may be justly confronted with an opposite. I shall therefore affirm, That those Women, who, tho' Learn'd, are Whores, wou'd be much more prostitute without it; for tho' those Inclinations, Nature and Constitution have given 'em, are not always entirely overcome by Learning, yet are the violence of them regulated, and reduc'd to a greater Moderation. 'Tis not to be deny'd, That Learning being very uncom∣mon in Woman, when 'tis found in one, it draws a more Numerous Train of Addresses from the Men; but were it more common, they wou'd by being divided, be more easily resisted: Nay, the very Motive wou'd be taken away, by the commonness of Learned Women, the rarity of which, is the chief bait on these occasions.

Having thus run through Lysander's formidable Troop of Arguments, I shall add a pleasant Fancy of my own, which is, That the Practice of ad∣mitting Women to the Arts and Sciences, wou'd convince the Infidels of the Jewish and Turkish Perswasion, that Women have Souls, since they were not wholly taken up with the Ornament, and care of the Body only, and then we might hope an equal Share in the Paradice of Mahomet, with the Men, and not be shut out of the Syna∣gogue by the Rabbi's.

But that I may wholly obviate all your Scru∣ples, I shall say one word now to that celebrated Book of the Advice to a Daughter, designing at a better opportunity to give a fuller Answer to a Book I have very little Esteem for.

I can never admit that an implicit Faith is more excusable in our Sex, than in his; because I can by no means discover, that what he advances ca•…•…ries any thing of Reason with it. These are his Words.—

As to your particular Faith, keep to the Religion that is grown up with you, both as it is the best in it self, and that the Reason of stayng in it on that Account, is somewhat stronger for your Sex, than it will perhaps be allow'd to be for ours, in respect of the voluminous Enquiries into Truth by reading, are less expected from you.—

Here you find a flourish of words indeed, but in my poor opinion, no very weighty Sense. The stress of the whole lyes on a false support; I mean, the corrupt Custom of the Age; which, he says, will not Expect Our reading, and search after the most Material of Truths, that this Life i•…•… given us for; if Truth be obscur'd by so many Volumes, 'tis the fault of those in whose hands i•…•… has so long been reserv'd. If it be a Truth tha•…•… is also necessary for our Future Happines•…•… to be rightly inform'd in; 'tis certainly equally our Duty to enquire into it; and they are to blam•…•… who deprive us of the fittest means, Learning 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and it it be an incumbent Duty, 'twill be but 〈◊〉〈◊〉 weak and poor Excuse for continuing in an Erro•…•… because we were bred in one; Besides, this wo•…•… hold on all sides, and must of Consequence be ver•…•… fallacious; and I must needs add, That whateve•…•… Figure a Lady wou'd make, by the Direction o•…•… this Advice, in the Court, she wou'd make but 〈◊〉〈◊〉

very indifferent one in Reason. But 'tis evident, that he is not in earnest, when a little after he prescribes a quite contrary Rule—Let me re∣commend to you (says he) a Method of being Rightly inform'd, which can never fail; 'tis in short this—Get Understanding, and practice Uirtue, &c. Now how she shou'd get this Understanding he leaves her, and us in the Dark; tho' I am confi∣dent it can never be obtain'd to a degree of being Rightly inform'd without Learning; unless he wou'd have it by Inspiration, which I humbiy pres•…•…me, is none of the most solid Understan∣dings in our Age.

But my charming Friend, I have detain'd you too long this bout to say any more on this Sub∣ject, or Book, when we meet I'll give you more of my Sentiments, which nothing cou'd make me so free of imparting, but the Pleasure I have to please such a Friend; tho' I shall never yield to you in sincerity, or any other Duties that are •…•…ow'd to Cloe, by

Her faithful Friend, Urania.

Some Reflections on Mr. Rymer's Short View of Tragedy, and an Attempt at a Vindication of SHAKESPEAR, in an Essay directed to JOHN DRYDEN Esq

AS soon as Mr. Rymer's Book came to my Hands, I resolv'd to make some Reflections upon it, tho' more to shew my Will than my Abilities. But finding Mr. Dennis had almost pro∣mis'd the World a Vindication of the Incompa∣rable Shakespear, I quitted the Design, since he had got a Champion more equal to his Worth; not doubting but Mr. Dennis wou'd as effectually confute our Hypercritic in this, as all Men must grant he has, in what he attempted in his Impar∣tial Critic.

But expecting thus long, without hearing any farther of it; I concluded some other more im∣portant, or at least more agreeable business, had diverted him from it; or that he thought it a•…•… unnecessary Undertaking, to perswade the Town o•…•… a Truth it already receiv'd; or to give any far∣ther Answer to a Book, that carry'd its own Con∣demnation in its self. However, since I find some build an Assurance on this General Silence o•…•… all the Friends of Shakespear, that Mr. Rymer's Ob∣jections are unanswerable; I resolv'd to besto•…•… two or three days on an Essay to prove the con∣trary:

Which may at least bring this advantage to the Cause, to convince the World how very good it is, when one of my Inability, in so little time, have so much to say for it, and that with∣out going through the whole Defence.

I indeed, like the most indifferent Counsel make the Motion, but leave more able Heads to Plead the Cause. One great Satisfaction, I have (however I succeed) is, that I speak before a Judge that is the best Qualify'd to decide a Controversie of this Nature, that ever England produc'd; for in you, Sir, The Poet, and The Critic meet in their highest Perfection; and, if the Critic discover the Faults of Shakespear, The Poet will also see, and admire •…•…is Beauties, and Perfections. For as you have Learning, and strong Judgment to discern his •…•…east Transgressions, so have you a Genius that can reach his Noblest Flights; and a Justice that •…•…ill acknowledge his Deserts: And were there no •…•…ther Arguments to be brought in his Vindication, •…•…t wou'd be more, than sufficient to destroy all •…•…is weak Antagonist has huddl'd together against •…•…im, that you give him your Approbation. This, •…•…ir, is really my Opinion, and I'm sure the most •…•…ensible Lovers of Poetry will side with me in it: •…•…nd secure me from the Imputation of being so •…•…oolishly vain, to think I Can flatter You, when speak of your Poetry, your Judgment, and •…•…our Candor; since whatever can be said on that •…•…ubject, by any one below Mr. Dryden's Abi∣•…•…ties, wou'd be but a very faint Shadow of the Mighty Panegyric of your Name alone.

The Method I shall observe in these Reflections (for my time will not permit me to bring so con∣fus'd a Chaos into a more regular Form) will be first to run over the Pages of his Book as they lye, and give you some Animadversions in part of those Absurdities they contain: for to examine all, wou'd swell my Letter into a Volume, and be five hun∣dred times as big as the Text, like a certain Re∣verend Dr. on Job. Next, I shall attempt a Vindication of Shakespear, where he more for∣merly attaques him.

In the first, I hope you'll forgive me, if I use him with no more Respect, than he does Shake∣spear or You: And in the latter, I hope you will admit Recriminations on those Patterns, h•…•… proposes to us for the Test, of Shakespear's Faults, as a sufficient Answer to what he Magi∣sterially lays down, as Self-Evident, with a Scorn∣ful, tho' Clumsy Jest, without any other Reason to confirm it; if not as a Demonstration of that Injur'd Poet's Excellence. And that we may from thence conclude with Mr. Rymer (as he ha•…•… it in his Preface to Rapin) since his Standards o•…•… Perfection are equally culpable, That the greatest Wits, both Modern, and Ancient, sometimes slip, a•…•… are liable to Cavils: And by consequence, that all his Pains were needless to bring Shakespear in∣to that Number, since his greatest Admirers eve•…•… confess'd he had Faults: Tho' no Man but himself I believe, ever Rob'd him of all Excellence; and I must say, That most that he produces are mee•…•… Cavils, and convict him of being one of those

Critics, that like Wasps rather annoy the Bee's, than terrifie the Drones.

But, indeed, the Lovers of Shakespear may well forgive the Author of Edgar, and this Short view of Tragedy, whatever he can say against his Excellence and Genius; since being his Opposité, 'tis no wonder his Mind's not capacious enough to Comprehend, nor his Tast Poetical enough to relish the Noble Thoughts which the Ingenious have admir'd in Shakespear ever since he Writ.

It has been the Fate of most Critics on Poetry, to Err in those Things they Condemn in others, or to discover by their Writing, how ill quality'd they are to judge of any thing, but the Regularity of the Structure of a Poem, which the Known Rules of Art furnish them with, the chief forma∣tion of a Poet being wanting; Nature denying them the Divitem Venam. Petronius Arbiter, so severe on Lucan, and Seneca (for on them he reflects in his Satyricen) kept not clear of that un∣natural Affectation he condemn'd in them. Jo∣seph and Julius Scaliger (as Rapin observes) had the Art, but wanted the supply of Nature when they attempted Poetry. But Mr. Rymer in any thing he has yet publish'd, has not the l•…•…ast sha∣dow of pretence to the Excellence of either of these. Petronius had Wit, had Fire, a Genius, and Language; and tho the Scaligers were not Po∣ets, yet had they the Merits of pretty good Cri∣tics; but this Gentleman, has scarce produc'd one Criticism, that is not borrow'd from Rapin, Da•…•…,

or Boss•…•…, and mis-apply'd to Shakespear. And for his Poetry, from the Heroic Tragedy of Edgar, to the River zounds, he discovers not the least Genius, nor Tast of it; and therefore must be granted a very incompetent Judge of such a Poet as Shakespear is.

Some of my Friends, whose Authority was ve∣ry great with me, wou'd needs have me examine Edgar; but there were two things that obstru∣cted my complyance with them—The First, That it was so abominably stor'd with Opium, that I cou'd not possibly keep my Eyes open to read it attentively; The other, That 'twas such a Ban∣ter in it self on Poetry and sense, that all the pains I cou'd take about it, wou'd be only to give him the vanity of imagining it worth any Man's taking Notice of.

The Piece now under our Consideration is in a Vein something more merry, and uncommon; for tho' 'tis frequent enough to meet with a dull Poetaster for a Poet, yet 'tis something more rare to encounter a jolly Droll for a Critic. Tho', that with the abundance of Ill Nature, Conceit, and Affectation of appearing a Scholar, is the Vehicle that carries off his Nonsence, with as ill Judges of that, as he is of Poetry, and makes them take it for an extraordinary Thing: and this will make the better excuse for my examining how very Monstrous a Fantom 'tis, that is set out in so for∣midable an Equipage.

To pass over the Epistle Dedicatory, which like •…•…ays his Prologues, may serve as well for any other

Book as this, nay—and for any other Lord too, as well as the Noble Lord 'tis address'd to (whose generous Patronage of all that have any Merit in the Republic of letters, ought to have secur'd him from such a Prophanation) And what's more, will do e'ery jot as well, for an Advertise∣ment to the Courteous Reader, as for an Epistle Dedicatory, it being a Medly of Stuff without Co∣herence, Design, or English. But to examine all that's Unintelligible, false English, and absurd, wou'd be an Herculean Labor, and extend my Conside∣rations to e'ery Line. I shall begin with the Work its self, not less abrupt, or inconsistent.

He begins with the Necessity of a Chorus, urg∣ing, That, as 'twas the the Original, so 'tis the most Essential part of a Tragedy, because it keeps the Poet, to the Unities of time, and place: But 'tis evident, from the Suppliants of Euripides (as you, Sir, have formerly observ'd) and from Raci•…•…es Hester, (as Mr. Dennis has noted) that the Cho∣rus does not necessarily do what Mr. Rymer pre∣tends; nor was it at all in Horace's Thoughts, if we may judge of them by the Precepts he gives about it in his Art of Poetry.

But Mr. Dennis having evidently clear'd this Point, I shall say no more of it; but that if, as our Critic contends, 'tis the Poet's incumbent Du∣ty to gratifie the Eyes, as well as Ears; this must be done without offending against Nature, and Probability, as the Chorus does. (which is abun∣dantly prov'd by the Impartial Critic). But by those who have a more necessary Relation to

the Action and Fable, as the Senators of Venice in O•…•…bello, whom 〈◊〉〈◊〉 reflects on; tho, as they have a Necessary concern in the Play, so cou'd they not be int•…•…oduc'd wīthout their Habits, which afford that Gratification to the Eye he makes the Duty of e'ery Poet without the help of so foreign, and unnatural a Thing as a Ch•…•…rus.

The 3d. and 4th. Pages are almost unintelligible, and at cross purposes one Paragraph with ano∣ther; for he will have it, That the words of Shake∣spear do not set off the Action, and then of a •…•…uddain he concludes the contrary, that they do Next, P. 6. he has an admirable •…•…etch, to prove that Pronunciation is a notable Vehicle, to carry off Nonsense, by shewing that it set off the Sense of Demost•…•…nes. 'Tis granted, That a good and true 〈◊〉〈◊〉, is a great help to Sense, be∣cause i•…•… s•…•…s i•…•… in its proper •…•…ight, as ill repeating 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it in a false one, and makes it lose its lust•…•…e; as Martial sensibly obs•…•…ves to Fidentinus.

Q•…•…m re•…•…as mens est, ô Fidentine libellus. Sed Male 〈◊〉〈◊〉 recitas incipit esse tuus.

But it seems to me, That the Reason, which makes Good Pronunciation set off Sense, must make 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more visible; for the giving e'ery Word, and Sentence its true Emphasis, must make the •…•…lunder more obvious, to even those, who in the Reading won'd perhaps over look it. I grant, that the P•…•…p of the Theatre may, perhaps, dull the edge of our Judgment, but Pronunciation never

can. But were all this true, I can't find that Shakespear falls justl•…•… under his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as to this particular; for he affirms, That 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and Pronunciation, lose their force under a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Perusal; yet after such a Perusal, Shakespear does still maintain his Reputation with the grea∣test Genius's our Nation has produc'd in Poetry: His Excellence therefore is not built on those Supports, but i•…•…ate Worth, and by Consequence all his incoherent bustle is to very little pur∣pose.

But the next Proof of the power of S•…•…ew, Action, and Pronunciation, is extreamly merry. P. 8. He tells us, That Cardinal 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was by them influenc'd in his mighty Approbation of the Tragedy of Sir Thomas Moor, tho' there were neither Poetry, nor Sense in it. Yet were not these able to by ass his nice Ta•…•… to fav•…•…ur the Cul of Corn•…•…l (who had more of a Poet, th•…•…n one of our Fl•…•…no's 〈◊〉〈◊〉) which places the •…•…dinal •…•…n the Majores Numero, of the Division of Judges made by 〈◊〉〈◊〉, clear contrary to our Critic's intention. Well, I must say this for him, That tho' his Reasons and Observations are •…•…ar from irre∣fragable, yet his Rambles are admirable and u•…•…∣accountable from a Comical Harangue against Ope∣ra's, P. 9, 10, 11, 12. he runs to Verse burles{que} and how long it had been in Italy before it pass'd the Alps, I suppose, to shew us he had read Pe∣lisson, quoted in the Margin, for the Devil a-bit had it to do with th•…•… Business in hand. Thence with another leap, he jumps back again t•…•… Aes∣ebylus

his Persi•…•…ns, proposing it for a Model pro∣portion'd to our English Capacities. Of which, Page the 13th having drawn in imitation in the Spanish Expedition of 1•…•…88. our Tragaedo didascu∣lus dubs it the Invincible Armado. His draught indeed is very nice and circumstantial, in the very serious, and at the same time extreamly Ri∣diculous Account of all the Incidents of this Draught to the very Beards of the Spanish Gran∣dees; the Tuns of Tar Barrels for the Heretics; and the squabling of the Cabinet Council, about Preferments not yet in their Power. And is it not as great an Error in Manners, as any Shake∣spear is guilty of in the worst of his Plays, to make the greatest Politicians of that Age such egregious Coxco•…•…bs? But what wretched Mortal is there of so very sorrowful or morose a temper, that must not laugh to hear him say, That on this Occasion two Competitors have just•…•… Occasion to workup, and shew the Muscles of their Passion, than Shakespears, Cassius, and Brutus? Cou'd any Pugg in Barbary be so ignorant of com∣m•…•…n Sense and Reason as this? he must Pardon, the Expre•…•…ion, 'tis his own to a much greater Man, than himself.

'Tis true, he tells us with his usual Magisterial Assurance. That these Spanish Grandees of his Creation, have a •…•…ster Occasion for a Passionate Scene than Shakespears, Brutus, and Cassi•…•…s: But I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ask his Pardon if I subscribe not to his Opinion: But to punish him sufficiently for this gross Absordity, and Arrogance, lay down the

matter barely as 'tis, proposing the Occasions just as they lye in both these Authors, our H•…•…storiogra∣pher, I mean, and the inimitable Shakespear.

First, Here is a Council of 15 of the greatest, old Politic Heads that Age produc'd in Spain, quarrelling with one another about things out of possession, In Eutopia, To be Kings of Man; Duke-Tr•…•…ncalos, and Duke-Step•…•…nos, &c. is there either Nature or Possibility of this? so far is it from any probable Ground.

On the other hand: Here is Cassius, a Passio∣nate, Ambitious, and Avariti•…•…us Roman, impa∣tient to bear a refusal of a Request he made for Lu•…•…ius Pella, that was found guilty of Bribery (a Crime himself was guilty of) looking on himself of equal Power at least with Bru•…•…us, and a Bro∣ther, if not Father of the War, being Ambitious and Choleric too, as I said, cou'd not but resent it as an infringing his Authority, and Friendship; and by consequence discover his Resentment at first meeting. But this is not all the Ground of •…•…his Scene: Here is Brutus on the other hand, a •…•…evere follower of Virtue, to which he Sacrific'd •…•…is Friend and Father, Caesar, and cou'd not there∣fore but resent Cassius's deviating from Virtue•…•… his pretence to which made him his Friend. How •…•…ou'd he bear with Cassius in his Bribery and Ava∣•…•…ice, who cou'd not with Caesar's Ambition? •…•…or •…•…n denying Money for the Payment of those Le∣•…•…ions (on whose Fidelity, not only their Lives, but •…•…he Fat•…•…, and Liberty of Rome, which was yet •…•…earer to Brutus, depended) he gave them up to Octavius and Anthony.

Is there any Parallel indeed betwixt these two Occasions? Can there be any thing more Childish and trifling, than the first? And can there be any thing greater, and more weighty than the latter 〈◊〉〈◊〉 The Prize of Chymera's on one side, and the Li∣berty, and Fate of the greatest Empire in the World; nay, Life, Honor, Vi•…•…tue, and all that can or ought to be dear on the other.

Let this be a convincing proof of the Genius and Judgment of our Histortographer Royal, who cou'd prefer his own dull Bu•…•…lesque on Common Sense to this incomparable Scene of Shakespear, whic•…•… is justly admir'd by all Men of Sense.

But to proceed, If Desdemona's Character b•…•… below the dignity of Tragedy, what are these Sp•…•…∣nish Segniora's, who a•…•…e to spend a whole Act 〈◊〉〈◊〉 telling of Dreams, which were likely to have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mighty influence on the Spanish Politicians, (al∣ways noted for their Religion and Bigottr•…•… as to fur•…•…ish out Distruct•…•…ns and Disorders 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for an Act. The Draught of the next Act is e'•…•… •…•…ot as merry: for 'tis very Natural indeed, a•…•… nicely according to Manners, to bring in a Ki•…•… Philosoph•…•…ng on Dreams, and Hobgoblins! unle•…•… he were to be such a King as he so much admi•…•… in the Rehearsal; for a King Phiz by his form•…•… Profession, might be suppos'd to have some N•…•…∣ble, if not Noble Thoughts (as our Critic requi•…•… on the Matter.

The 16th. Page, is a brief, tho' fully as ridi•…•…∣lous fumming up of what he had said at la•…•… before, tho' the Fourth Act is above measure C•…•…∣mical,

where the Spaniard is to be beaten off with a Vanguard of Dreams and Goblins, and the Terrors of the Night.

For my part, on the first reading it, I thought him absolutely out of his Wits, or what's all one, that he had a Mind to be lewdly, merry extreamly out of Season, or Play the Droll, to shew how much he was better qualify'd for a Farcewright, than a Critic. But being assur'd since by several Ingenious Gentlemen, that he not only means it as a serious thing, but that the Doctors do not think him Mad enough for •…•…edlam, I will turn the Advice he has the extraordinary Assurance to give you, infinitely more justly to himself, that he wou'd undertake the Writing upon this admi∣rable Plot; and for his Encouragement, I assure him, it shall not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Fate of his Edgar, but be Acted, with a •…•…rm belief, that if it do not Pit∣•…•…ox and Gallery-it, with any of Shakespears: •…•…et it may bear the Bell (to borrow an extraordi∣nary Phrase from our Histor•…•…ographer Royal) from •…•…he Devil of a Wise, or Dr. Faust•…•…; because the •…•…ery excessive Extravagance of the Thought might, make us laugh, whereas Edgar cou'd provoke no∣•…•…hing but Sleep.

But his putting this on you, Sir, after so many Public Expressions of your Friendship for him, & private Services (as I'm inform'd) done him, shews •…•…is Morals, as faulty, as the Manners he has laid •…•…own for the Heroes of this Anti-Tragedy. With •…•…hat Face cou'd he put so little and scurrilous an Affront on you, in this Book, without provocation,

who in his Preface to Rapin, did preferr your De∣scription of Night to all the Master stroaks of the Ancients, and Moderns. If you had no other me•…•…its certainly the Judgment of Virgil animated with a more sprightly Wit, deserv'd better from him than so mean, and so ungenerous an Abuse. But now to the next Chapter.

To shew he had read Plato, he quotes him P. 18. to prove what no body yet ever deny'd that knew any thing of the Original of Tragedy. Nor has any one, that I ever met with, pretended that there was no Poem, that had the Name of Tragedy before the time of Thespis. But if from hence he wou'd inferr that Tragedy was Acted before his time, he proceeds farther, than the words of Plato, or any other Authority will war∣rant him, for till Thespis, it was only a Hymn to Bacchus, Sung and Perform'd in Dances, and Ge∣fticulations by the Chorus. But then it had no Episode or Actor; and therefore Thespis was the Original of the Tragedies, that are Acted, tho' lie built it on the Foundation of the religious Goat-Song; this, not only Horace, but all the Cri∣tic's, I have met with, affirm. And himself con∣fesses, P. 19. that when it came to be an Image of the World, it then had a secular Alloy, and was by Consequence alter'd from what it was be∣fore, that is, from a Religious Hymn, to a Repre∣sentation of Humane Life. The End therefore and Aim of it being thus alter'd, the Mediums to that End, must of Consequence, be alter'd too. Th•…•… praise of Bacchus was no more Necessary to for∣ming

an Image of Humane Life, than the Praise of Hercules, or any other of the Gods. Now, if the Chorus be necessary, because 'twas the Ori∣ginal of Tragedy, 'tis equally necessary the Chorus shou'd celebrate the Praise of Bacchus, as it origi∣nally did; but if Tragedy by the Alteration of its end were set on a new bottom, we are no lon∣ger oblig'd to regulate it according to its first In∣stitution. So that I can see no reason, that be∣cause Sophocles retain'd the Chorus, it was therefore a necessary part of Tragedy, or if it be, why the Dancing and Music that was continu'd with it, was any more meer Religion, than the Chorus its self, or a less necessary part of Tragedy, since both were of equal date, as to their Rise, and End. But this only en passant.

P. 20. Next, he le•…•…s to the Care the Go∣vernment had of the Theatre, in permitting no Poet to present a Play to the House till past Thirty. This Observation might, perhaps, pro∣ceed from Self-Interest, hoping to perswade us, that, upon another Vacancy, he is qualify'd for Poet Laureat, intimating, that the older a Man grows, the sitter he is for a Poet, contrary to the •…•…udgment of his Friend Rapin; from whom he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Observation that the Athenians spent more of the Public Money about their Chorus's, and other Decorations of the Stage, than in all their Wars with Persia. From hence he soon passes to his beloved Aristophanes (and to do him Justice, he always expresses an extraordinary Passion for •…•…arces) tho' I am to seek in what he drives at in

all those Praises he bestows on him, for Running a Muc, (as he phrases it) at all manner of Vice wher•…•… ever be saw it, be it in the greatest Philosophers, th•…•… greatest Poets, the Generals, or the Ministers of State•…•… Wou'd he have our Poets follow his example, and expose our Divines, Bishops, Lords, Generals, and Ministers of State? If this be his desire, yet either h•…•… ought not to blame them for their Defect in that or is in Justice bound to secure them from the Pe∣nalties, they wou'd incur by doing so: Scan. Ma•…•… and some such odd things are Bug-bears, th•…•… wou'd have frighten'd his Aristophanes, from hi•…•… freedom, if the Athenian Law, like ours, had se∣cur'd Vice, and Folly in the Great ones, from th•…•… attaques of Poets. He ought therefore either t•…•… moderate his Indignation at our Poets for only exposing the Common Life of Mankind, or if 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wou'd have none but Statesmen, and Generals •…•…∣dicul'd, let him lead the Dance; and fear not th•…•… Success of Aristophanes, being so well qualify'd fo•…•… a Parce-Wright; his Propensity to that, influ•…•…∣cing perhaps his Judgment in favour of this Gre•…•… Poet, above all those that succeeded him. Th•…•… Quintilian, as good a Judge as Mr. Rymer says 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Menander, not Aristophanes, meo judicio diligen•…•… lectus, ad cuncta quae praecipimus efficienda suffic•…•… Ita omnium Imaginem in vitâ Expressit. Tanta in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 inveniendi Copia, el•…•…quendi facultas, ita omnibus R•…•…∣bus, Personis, affectibus accommodatus, ut omnib•…•… ejusdem operis Autoribus tenebras obduxarit. B•…•… Mr. Rymer must be singular in his Opinion, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he cou'd not keep up his Character, as he is in th•…•…

meaning of those two Verses he quotes, Pag. 25.

Non minimum meruere d•…•…cus, vestigia Graeca, Ausi deserere, & celebrare Domestica facta.

He will have it, that non Minimum is but a faint Commendation; tho' 'tis evident from the best of the Latin Authors, that non Minimum is us'd for Magnum, if not Maximum. 'Tis perhaps us'd by Horace as a more Modest expression of their Worth, that he might not incur the imputation of flattering by a stronger Praise, those who were living. But I de•…•…e him to produce non Minimum in Cicero, or any other Author of Note, in a sense less than Magnum. Nor does that Quotation out of the Sixth Book of Virgil's Aeneids, prove at all that Virgil gave up the Cause, and yielded •…•…he Grecians more excellent in Poetry than the Latins, any more than Horace did in the Epistle by him •…•…oted, for thus it runs,

Excudent alii spirantia mollius aera, Credo quidem, vivos ducent de murm•…•…re vultus: Orabunt causas mel•…•…us, caeli{que} meatus, Describent radio, & surgentia sidera dicent. Tu Regere imperio populos Romane memento; (Hae tibi erunt Artes) pacis{que} imponere Morem, Parcere subjectis & debellare superbos.

From which 'tis evident that he meant only •…•…his, that Governing Nations, and Justice shou'd •…•…e their chief Care, and greatest Art, not that

he thought the Romans did not excell the Grecians in others too; for, I believe, none will deny but Cicero was a greater Orator than Demosthenes, or at least as great, and that Virgil was as great a Poet, as Homer. And for other Arts, Pliny was of opi∣nion, That the Romans excell'd the Grecians ev'n in 'em, as well as that of Governing, when he says in the 36th Book of his Natural History, That he wou'd shew the World conquer'd in the Works of Art, as well as by the Sword, and then proceeds to Paint∣ing, Statuary, &c.

But, Sir, I fear, I shall tire your patience shou'd I touch upon e'ery Page; I'll therefore step to P. 63. and with that and the 65th. make an end of my Reflections, and then examine more parti∣cularly what relates to Shakespear. P. 63. he ex∣presses himself much against Rhime in Plays, by which he not only shews his Mind is much al∣ter'd since he writ Edgar in Rhime; but also makes it the distinctive mark of Heroic Verse in English, as the numbers of Hexameters are of La∣tin Heroics: But he gives us no Reason for the Parallel, for that indeed wou'd be to break an old custom, which he's very fond of. If there∣fore I cou'd produce no Argument against him in particular, yet must, a bare denial, be granted equivalent to a bare Assertion: but the matter is not so barren of Reason, as to be destitute of a very convincing proof of the contrary, viz. The Num∣bers or Feet distinguish the Latin Verse, and the Numbers of Hexameters are very different from those of Jambics, which is the Verse most us'd,

at least out of the Chorus, in Tragedy, so in En∣glish 'tis the Feet, or Numbers that distinguish Heroic Verse from all others, whereas the Num∣bers are the same in blanc Verse, as in Rhime; so that they are equally He•…•…oic Verse, and Mil∣ton's Paradise lost, is a sufficient proof of this; so that according to Mr. Rymer all Verse of ten Syl∣lables are as improper for Tragedies in English, as Pentameters are in Latin, for that is the conse∣quence of his Arguments,

The second Paragraph of P. 65, That furnishes me with the subject of my last Reflection, is a Master-piece, compos'd of his belov'd ingredients, the unaccountable, and the unintelligible; for he tells us, that since the decay of the Roman Empire, this Island has been more fortunate in Matters of Poe∣try, than any of our Neighbours, &c. I must tell him that it must be a good-natur'd Reader that (after all he has said) shall take his word for't; for I can't see how he can make it out, if Shakespear be so far from a Poet, as not to be sit to write Ballads, or what's all one, as ignorant of Nature as any Pug in Barbary; if Ben Johnson be guilty of such Stupidity; if Milton, as he commonly asserts, have nothing in him; and Beaumont and Fletcher are such, as he represents 'em. He wou'd do well to fix this Excellence above our Neighbours •…•…omewhere; for hitherto he has done nothing but •…•…rraign our greatest Poets. But the latter end of •…•…his Paragraph as unintelligible as 'tis, must I find •…•…ass for a Proof of this, if we will have any from •…•…im. We find (says he) the British Poetry to this day:

To confirm which, he proceeds thus. One of our oldest Medals b•…•…ars a harp on the Kevers, with the Name Kunobuline around it: But what of that good Sir? What if it had Merlin, Gildas, and half a score more about it, what's the consequence? I advise him in his next Book not to put his Friends to such trouble to understand him; for my part I cou'd never yet meet with an Oedipus to solve the Ridle; for what has the oldest Medal to do with the proof of our having the British Poetry to this day, unless the other side of the Medal had fur∣nish'd us with some of it, if he draw not the odd consequence from the Harp; that where there is Music, there must be Poetry; as where there is Smoak, there must be Fire, according to the lau∣dable Observation of our Matrons of Antiquity.

But there needed no Medal of Kunobuline to be produc'd; for the proof of the early use of Po∣try in this Island, and that long before Virgil writ. The British Bards are enough to justifie that; we need not wait till the decay of the Roman Empire, witness Lucan, Lib. 3. who writ of times that pre∣ceded Virgil.

Vos quo{que} qui fortes animas, bello{que} peremptas Laudibus in longum vates dimittit is aevum Plurima securi fudistis carmina Bardi.

But what's this to the Confirmation of his Asser∣tion, that next the Romans we excell'd in Poetry? 'Tis not the number of Years, nor Poems that wil•…•… establish our Excellence, but the Quality; 'tis thei•…•…

Perfection, that must give us the advantage of our Neighbours.

But to expect Reason, Method, (without which •…•…ll is confusion) and Meaning from this Author is •…•…n vain, since he tells us in a former Essay he can •…•…eep to no Method or Form, and that he is not cut •…•…ut for penning any Treatise. But then why, in •…•…he Name of dullness, does he fly in the Face of Nature, and spight of her appear in Print, not only as an Author, but Judge, bringing to his Tribunal, those who were qualified with what he •…•…xtremly wants, viz. A Genius and Judgment: •…•…is Judgment being so weak, that he cou'd not •…•…eep Coherence through one only Page. Being •…•…hus qualify'd, no doubt his censure of the admira∣•…•…le Shakespear, must be extraordinary, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall, after I have premis'd some general Consi∣•…•…erations examine.

To survey the Antients with an impartial Eye •…•…wou'd make one wonder at those extravagan•…•… En∣•…•…miums, and that inexpressible Advantage above •…•…e Moderns' some of our Dogmatic Critics give •…•…m, were there not an extraordinary Vanity, in •…•…xtolling their Performances and Virtues, because •…•…y that means they arrogate to themselves the •…•…eputation of understanding them better, than •…•…ther Men. This makes Rapin tell us what an •…•…iversal Genius Homer was; and that all the •…•…rts and Sciences are to be learn'd from his Works, tho' some others perhaps, not less able to •…•…derstand him, can not discover any such Matter, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Author of the Dialogues of the Dead, very wittily

intimates in the Dialogue betwixt Homer and Ae∣sop. These Gentlemen wou'd cover all the Absur∣dities of this Poet, with the specious Whim of All•…•…∣gory, never thought of by Homer himself. But h•…•… may thank his Fate for allotting him a time s•…•… much remote from ours, else they wou'd not b•…•… fond of him to so unreasonable an excess, since the•…•… can't allow no excuse for smaller Faults in the•…•… own Countrymen of a later date, such ill Patri∣ots are these Partial Critics; for I desie Mr. Ry∣mer and all of his Opinion to parallel in Shake∣spear, the Wounds, the Hatreds, the Battles, an•…•… Strifes of the Gods. And he must confess, if h•…•… be not a sworn Enemy to all Reason, that Ho∣mer's Juno is a Character far beneath, and mo•…•… disproportionable, than that of Desdemona, th•…•… the first be of the Queen of the Gods, Joves Si∣ster and his Wife, and the other a Senators, Daugh∣ter of Venice, Young Innocent, and Tender. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Desdemona be too humble for Tragedy, and di•…•…∣cover not Elevation of Soul enough for her Bir•…•… and Fortune: Homer's Juno must be much too lo•…•… for an Heroic Poem, having no Parallel for Scold∣ing but at Billinsgate. For the furious curtain Le∣ctures of a City Wife, who is supream Lady 〈◊〉〈◊〉 home, are nothing to hers. This Jupiter finds, whe•…•… the only Remedy he has left to stop her Mou•…•… is to threaten to thrash her Divine Jackes, whic•…•… makes her Son Vulcan something concern'd abo•…•… the Shame 'twill be to have his Goddess Moth•…•… suffer the Bastinade before the Heavenly Cre•…•… Where is the Nature? Where the Reason of this 〈◊〉〈◊〉

If the Nobleness of his Thoughts, the Majesty of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Expression, and Variety of his Numbers made •…•…he succeeding Ages so fond of Homer, as to find some Excuse for his failures, in Conduct and Characters; is not Shakespear more ungenerously dealt with, whose Faults are made to a pretence •…•…o deny all his Beauties and Excellence?

But 'tis not these Instances in the Prince of the Greek Peots, (with many more, both as to the Conduct and Characters) that influence me to •…•…ncline to a better Opinion of the Moderns I mean of my own Country) than Mr. Rymer; •…•…nd some of the Graver Pedants of the Age; the •…•…xcellence I find in Shakespear himself, commands a •…•…uster Veneration; for in his Thoughts and Ex∣•…•…ressions he discovers himself Master of a very just Observation of things; so that if he had (which deny) no Learning, his natural parts wou'd suf∣•…•…ciently have furnish'd him with better Ethics, •…•…han our Hypercritic allows him. But that which •…•…ggravates his Malice is, he extends his censure 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ben himself, whose skill in Moral Philosophy, •…•…e suppose, at least equal to his: But to give •…•…he World some Satisfaction, that Shakespear •…•…as had as great a Veneration paid his Excellence •…•…y Men of unquestion'd parts, as this I now ex∣•…•…ress for him, I shall give some Account of what have heard from your Mouth, Sir, about the •…•…oble Triumph he gain'd over all the Ancients, •…•…y the Judgment of the ablest Critics of that time.

The Matter of Fact (if my Memory fail me •…•…ot) was this, Mr. Hales, of Eaton, affirm'd that

he wou'd shew all the Poets of Antiquity, out done by Shakespear, in all the Topics, an•…•… common places made use of in Poetry. The E∣nemies of Shakespear wou'd by no means yield hi•…•… so much Excellence; so that it came to a Resolu∣tion of a trial of Skill upon that Subject; th•…•… place agreed on for the Dispute, was Mr. Hales•…•… Chamber at Eaton; a great many Books were sen•…•… down by the Enemies of this Poet, and on th•…•… appointed day, my Lord Falkland, Sir John Suc•…•…∣ling, and all the Persons of Quality that had W•…•… and Learning, and interested themselves in th•…•… Q•…•…arrel, met there, and upon a thorough Disq•…•…∣sition of the point, the Judges chose by agreeme•…•… out of this Learned and Ingenious Assembly, un•…•…∣nimously gave the Preference to Shakespear And the Greek and Roman Poets were adjudg'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Va•…•…l at least their Glory in that to the Englis•…•… Hero. I cou'd wish, Sir, you wou'd give the Pub∣lic a juster Account of this Affair, in Vindicatio•…•… of that Poet, I know you extreamly esteem, an•…•… whom none but you excels.

Shall we therefore still admire Shakespear wi•…•… these Learned and Ingenious Gentlemen, or p•…•… him in a Class below Sternold or Flecknoe, wi•…•… Mr. Rymer, because he has not come close to th•…•… Rules Aristotle drew from the Practice of th•…•… Greek Poets, whom nothing it seems can pleas•…•… but the Antic Forms and Methods of the Atheni•…•… Stage, or what comes up, and sticks close to the•…•… in our Language.

I can see no Reason why we shou'd be so very fond of imitating them here, without better proofs than the Critical Historiographer has produc'd. 'Tis certain, the Grecians had not the advantage of us in Physics, or any other part of Philosophy, which with them chiefly consisted in words; they were a Talkative People; and being fond of the Opinion of Learning, more than the thing it self, as the most speedy way to gain that, stop'd their Enquiries on Terms, as is evident from their So∣phistry and Dialectic's. There can be no dispute among the Learned, but that we excel them in these Points. Since the time of Des Cartes, when the Dictates of Greece began to be laid aside, what a Progress has been made in the discovery of Na∣ture? and what Absurdities laid open in the School Precepts, and Terms of Aristotle.

But Ethics is a Study not so abstruse as the search of Natural Causes and Effects; a nice Observa∣tion of Mankind will furnish a sensible Man with them; which makes me unable to ghess how the Greeks shou'd have so monstrous an advantage over us in this particular, as some wou'd give them, who are so far behind us in things of greater dif∣ficulty; but it can't be otherways whilst we make that Age and Nation the Standard of Excellence without regard to the difference of Custom, Age, Climate, &c. But I question not to make it ap∣pear hereafter, that we much surpass the Greeks and Latins, at least in Dramatick Poetry. As for Expression (the difference of Language consi∣der'd) the Merits of which is proportion'd to the

Idea it presents to the Mind, and for Thought, as well as for Design. And had you, Sir, but given us an Heroic Poem, you had put the Controversie out of doubt as to the Epic too, as your Oedipus (for all the Quantum mutatus, of which a∣nother time) your All for Love, and some other of your Plays have in the Dramatic, in the esteem of impartial Judges.

Had our Critic entertain'd but common Justice for the Heroes of his Own Country, he wou'd have set Shakespear's Faults in their true Light, and di∣stinguish'd betwixt his, and the Vices of the Age; for as Rapin (a much juster and more Candid Cri∣tic) observes, the Poet often falls into Vices by complying with the Palate of the Age he lives in; and to this may we truly and justly refer a great many of these Faults Shakespear is guilty of. For, He not having that advantage the Greek Poets had, of a proper Subsistence, or to be provided for at the Public Charge, what Fruit he was to expect of his Labors, was from the Applause of the Audience; so that his chief aim was to please them; who not being so Skilful in Criticisms, as Mr. Rymer, wou'd not be pleas'd without some Extravagances mingl'd in (tho' contrary to) the Characters such, and such a Player was to Act. This is the Reason that most of his Tragedies have a mixture of something Comical; the Dalilab, of the Age must be brought in, the Clown, and the Valet jesting with their Betters, if he resolv'd not to disoblige the Auditors. And I'm assur'd from very good hands, that the Person that Acted

Jago was in much esteem for a Comoedian, which made Shakespear put several words, and expres∣sions into his part (perhaps not so agreeable to his Character) to make the Audience laugh, who had not yet learnt to endure to be serious a whole Play. This was the occasion of that particular place so much houted at by our Historiographer Royal,

Awake, what ho, Brabantio, &c. An old black Ram is tupping your white Ewe, &c.

This Vice of the Age it was that perverted many of his Characters in his other Plays: Nor cou'd it be avoided if he wou'd have his Audience sit the Play out, and receive that Profit, that is the chief End of all Poets. To this same Cause may be attributed all those Quibbles, and playing up∣on words, so frequent in some part of him, as well as that Language that may seem too rough, and forc'd to the Ear, up, and down in some of the best of his Plays.

After all, the Head of his Accusation is, That 'tis not improbable, that Shakespear was ignorant of the Rules of Aristotle's Poetics; and was imper∣fect in the three Unities of Time, Place, and Action, which Horace in his Art of Poetry gives no Rules about: for that which I have heard quoted from him, has no relation to the Dra∣matic Unities,

Deni{que} sit, quod vis, simplex duntaxat & unum.

as is evident from what goes before; but to the Coherence, Uniformity, and Equality of any Po∣em in general—

—Amphora caepit Institui, currente Rota cur urceus exit.

'Tis only the Conclusion of what he proposes about Seven Verses before,

Inceptis gravibus, & magna Professis, &c.

and this of Petronius is a just Interpretation of it in my opinion,

Praeterea ne sententiae emineant extra corpus ora∣tionis expressae sed intecto vestibus colore niteant. That is, it gives only a Rule that all Poems be of a Piece and Equal.

So that since he cou'd gather no Instructions in this Point from Horace, we may excuse him for transgressing against them: and this defect his greatest Admirers confess'd before his Useless piece of ill-natur'd censure, and cou'd have Pardon'd Mr. Rymer, had he gone no farther; But when he Robs him of all Genius, and denies him the Elevation of a Shirly, a Fleckno, or a Jordan, w•…•… must modestly return his Complement, and tel•…•… him, That never a Blackamoor (as he learnedly terms a Negro) in the Western Plantations, b•…•… must have a better tast of Poetry than himself and that 'tis evident from the Woman Judges whose Judgment, he assures us, seldom errs, b•…•…

their continual Approbation of Othello, Hamlet, &c. he is in the Wrong.

But shou'd we grant him that Shakespear wanted Art (tho' Ben Johnson denies it) can he from thence infer he was no Poet? The dispute of which confers most to the forming a Poet, (I mean, a Compleat one) Art, or Nature, was never yet agreed on; Horace joyns them, Quintillian and some others give it to Nature: But, till this Gen∣tleman, never did any Man yield it wholly to Art; for that all his Arguments both in this or his former Book seem to drive at.

A nice Observation of Rules, is a Confinement a great Genius cannot bear, which naturally cove•…•…s Liberty; and tho' the French, whose Genius, as well as Language, is not strong enough to rise to the Majesty of Poetry, are easier reduc'd with∣in the Discipline of Rules, and have perhaps of late Years, more exactly observ'd 'em. yet I ne∣ver yet met with any Englishman, who wou'd preferr their Poetry to ours. All that is great of Humane things, makes a nearer approach to the Eternal Perfection of Greatness, and extends as much as possible its limits toward being Bound∣less: 'Tis not govern'd by Common Rules and Methods, but Glories in a Noble Irregularity; and this not only in Writings, but Actions of some Men. Alexander, Caesar, Alcibiades, &c. seem'd actuated by other Principles than the common Maxims that govern the Rest of Humane Kind; and in them the greatest Virtues have been mixt with great Vices, as well as the Writings of Shake∣spear;

yet are they granted Heroes, and so must He be confess'd a Poet: The Heroes Race are all like Achilles. Jura negunt, sibi nata.

But as I do not think that to be a Great Man, one must necessarily be wholly, exempt from Rules, so I must grant, That Virgil, Sophocles, and Your Self are very Great, tho' generally very Regu∣lar; But these are Rarities so uncommon, that Nature has produc'd very few of them, and like the Phoenixes of Honesty, that live up to the Pre∣cepts of Morality, ought to have public Statues erected to them. But yet the less perfect ought not to be Rob'd of their Merits, because they have defects, especially when the Number of those exceed these, as in Shakespear, all whose Faults have not been able to frustrate his obtain∣ing the end of All just Poems, Pleasure and Profit. To deny this, wou'd be to fly in the Face of the known experience of so many Years. He has (I say) in most, if not all, of his Plays attain'd the full end of Poetry Delight, and Profit, by mo∣ving Terror and Pity for the Changes of Fortune, which Humane Life is subject to, by giving us a lively and just Image of them (the best Definition of a Play) for the Motion of these Passions afford us Pleasure, and their Purgation Profit. Besides, there are few or none of those many he has writ, but have their Just Moral, not only of more gene∣ral Use and Advantage, but also more naturally the Effect of them, than that of the Oedipus of So∣phocles, as may be soon perceiv'd by any one that will give himself the trouble of a little Thought,

and which will in some measure appear from what I have to say in the particular Defence I shall now make of Othello.

To begin with the Fable (as our Critic has done) I must tell him, he has as falsly, as ridiculously represented it, which I shall endeavour to put in a Juster light.

Othello a Noble Moor, or Negro, that had by long Services, and brave Acts establish'd himself in the Opinion of the Senate of Uenice, wins the Af∣fections of. Desdemona, Daughter to Brabantio one of the Senators, by the moving account he gives of the imminent Dangers he had past, and hazards •…•…e had ventur'd through, a belief of which his known Virtue confirm'd, and unknown to her Father Marries her, and carries her (with the leave of the Senate) with him to Cyprus, his Province. He makes Cas∣sio his Lieutenant, tho' Jago, had sollicited it by his Friends for himself, which Refusal joyn'd with a jea∣lousie, that Othello had had to do with his Wife, makes him contrive the destruction of Cassio, and the Moor, to gratifie his Revenge, and Ambition. But having no way to revenge himself sufficiently on the Moor, from whom he suppos'd he had receiv'd a dou∣ble Wrong, proportionable to the injury, but this, he draws him with a great deal of Cunning into a Jea∣lousie of his Wife, and that by a chain of Circumstances contriv'd to that purpose, and urg'd with all the taking

insinuations imaginable; particularly by a Handker∣chief, he had convey'd to Cassio (which Jago's Wife stole from Desdemona) to convince the Moor his Wife was too familiar with him, having parted with such a favour to him, which she had on her Marriage receiv'd from Othello, with the strictest charge of preserving, it being a Gift of his Mother of Curious Work, and secret Virtue. Othello, by these means, won to a beli•…•… of his own Infamy, resolves the Mur∣der of those, he concluded guilty, viz. Cassio, and his Wife; Jago officiously undertakes, the dispatching of Cassio, having got his Commission already, but is dis∣appointed of his design, employing one Roderigo to that purpose, who had follow'd him from Venice, in hopes by his means to enjoy Desdemona, as Jago had promis'd him. But the Moor effectually puts his Revenge in Execution on his Wife, which is no sooner •…•…ne, but he's convinc'd of his Error, and in remorse kills himself, whilst Jago, the Cause of all this Villa∣ny, having slain his Wife for discovering it, is born away to a more ignominious Punishment, as more pro∣portion'd to his Villanies.

The Fable to be perfect must be Admirable and Probable, and as it approaches those two, 'tis more or less perfect in its kind. Admirable, is what is uncommon, and extraordinary. Probable, is what is agreeable to common Opinion. This must be •…•…e Test of this Fable of Othello; but then we must not take it, as given us by our Drolling Critic, who very truely confesseth in his former Book, (and in that he is no Changeling) he must be

merry out of Season, as he always is; but as I have laid it down, else we shou'd do Shakespear a great deal of Injustice.

I suppose none will deny that it is Admirable: that is, compos'd of Incidents that happen not e'ery day, his Antagonist confesses as much; there is therefore nothing but the Probability of it attaqu'd by him, which I question not either wholly to prove, or at least to set it on the same bottom with the best of Sophocles, that of his Oe∣dipus.

First, to see whether he have sinn'd against Probability, let us consider what our Ca∣viller objects, all which may be reduc'd to two Points. First, That 'tis not probable that the Se∣nate of Venice (tho' it usually employ Strangers) should employ a Moor against the Turk: neither is it in the next place probable, that Desdemona shou'd be in Love with him. On this turns all the Accusation, this is the very Head of his of∣fending.

All the Reason he gives, or rather implies, for the first Improbability is, That 'tis not likely the State of Venice, wou'd employ a Moor, (taking him for a Mahometan) against the Turk, because of the mutual Bond of Religion. He, indeed says not so, but takes it for granted that Othello must be rather for the Turkish interest than the Venetian, because a Moor. But, I think (nor does he oppose it with any reason) the Chara∣cter of the Venetian State being to employ Stran∣gers in their Wars, it gives sufficient ground to

our Poet, to suppose a Moor employ'd by 'em as well as a German; that is a Christian Moor, as Othello is represented by our Poet, for from such a Moor, there cou'd be no just fear of treachery in favour of the Mahometans. He tells us—

I fetch my Life and Being from Men of Royal Siege.

Supposing him therefore the Son or Nephew of the Emperor of Monomotopa, Aethiopia or Congo, forc'd to leave his Country for Religion, or any other occasion, coming to Europe by the conve∣nience of the Portugueze Ships, might after seve∣ral Fortunes, serve first as a Voluntier till he had signaliz'd himself, and prov'd himself worthy of Command; part of this may very reasonably be drawn from what the Poet makes him say. Now upon this Supposition, it appears more rational, and probable, the Venetians shou'd employ a Stran∣ger, who wholly depended on themselves, and whose Country was too remote, to influence him to their prejudice, than other Strangers, whose Princes may in some m•…•…ure direct their Actions for their own Advantage. But that Othello is sup∣pos'd to be a Christian is evident from the Second Act, and from these words of Jago;—And then for her to Win the Moor, were't to renounce his Bap∣tism, &c. Why therefore an African Christian may not by the Venetians be suppos'd to be as zea∣lous against the Turks, as an European Christian, I cannot imagine. So that this Bustle of Littora littoribus Contraria, &c. is only an inconsiderate

Amusement, to shew how little the Gentleman was troubled with thought when he wrote it.

No more to the purpose, is that Heat he ex∣presses against Shakspears giving a Name to his Moor, though Cinthio did not, though History did not warrant it. For this can be no more ob∣jected to our Poet, then the perverting the Cha∣racter of Dido, and confounding the Chronolo∣gy to bring her to the time of Aeneas, is to Vir∣gil; the first as 'tis not mention'd in History, so it does not contradict it; but the last is a plain opposition to express History, and Chronology. If Virgil be allow'd his Reason for doing that, Shakespear is not to seek for one for what he has done. 'Twas necessary to give his Moor a place of some Figure in the World, to give him the greater Authority, and to make his Actions the more Considerable, and what place more likely to fix on, than Venice, where Strangers are admitted to the highest Commands in Military Affairs.

'Tis granted, a Negro here does seldom rise a∣bove a Trumpeter, nor often perhaps higher at Venice. But then that proceeds f•…•…om the Vice of Mankind, which is the Poets Duty a•…•… he informs us, to correct, and to represent things as they should be, not as they are. Now 'tis certain, there is no reason in the nature of things, why a Negro of equal Birth and Merit, should not be on an•…•… equal bottom, with a German, Hollander, French-man, &c. The Poet, therefore ought to do •…•…stice to Nations, as well as Persons, and

set them to rights, which the common course of things confounds. The same reason stands in force for this, as for punishing the Wicked, and making the Virtuous fortunate, which as Rapin, and all the Critics agree, the Poet, ought to do, though it generally happens otherways. The Poet has therefore well chosen a polite People, to cast off this customary Barbarity, of confining Nations, without regard to their Virtue, and Merits, to slavery, and contempt for the meer Accident of their Complexion.

I hope I have brought by this time as convin∣cing proofs for the probability in this particular, as Mr. Rymer has against it, if I have not wholly gain'd my Point. Now therefore I shall proceed to the probability of Desdemona's Love for the Moor, which I think is somthing more evident against him.

Whatever he aims at in his inconsistant Ram∣ble against this, may be reduc'd to the Person and the Manner. Against the Person he quotes you two Verses out of Horace, that have no more reference to this, than—in the Beginning God made the Heaven and the Earth, has to the proof of the Jus Divinum of lay Bishops, the Verses are these,

Sed non ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut S•…•…rpentes avibus geminentur, tiegribus agni.

unless he can prove that the Colour of a Man al∣ters his Species, and turns him into a Beast or Devil. 'Tis such a vulgar Error, so criminal a

fondness of our Selves, to allow nothing of Hu∣manity to any but our own Acquaintance of the fairer hew; that I wonder a Man, that pretends to be at all remov'd from the very Dreggs of the thoughtless Mob, should espouse it in so pub∣lic a manner a Critic too, who puts the Poet: in mind of correcting the common corruptions of Custom. Any Man that has convers'd with the best Travels, or read any thing of the Histo∣ry of those parts, on the continent of Africa, discover'd by the Portugueze, must be so far from robbing the Negroes of some Countrys there of Humanity, that they must grant them not only greater Heroes, nicer observers of Honour, and and all the Moral Virtues that distinguish'd the old Romans, but also much better Christians (where Christianity is profess'd) than we of Eu∣rope generally are. They move by a nobler Prin∣ciple, more open, free and generous, and not such slaves to sordid Interest.

After all this, Othello being of Royal Blood, and a Christian, where is the disparity of the Match? If either side is advanc'd, 'tis Desdemona. And why must this Prince though a Christian, and of known and experienc'd Virtue, Courage, and Con∣duct, be made such a Monster, that the Ve∣netian Lady can't love him without perverting Nature? Experience tells us, that there's nothing more common than Marches of this kind, where the Whites, and Blacks cohabit, as in both the Indies: and Even here at home, Ladys that have not wanted white Adorers, have indulg'd their A∣morous

Dalliances, with their Sable Lovers, with∣out any of Othellos's Qualifications, which is proof enough, that Nature and Custom, have not put any such unpassable bar betwixt Crea∣tures of the same kind, because of different co∣lors, which I hope will remove the improbabili∣ty of the Person, especially when the powerful Auxilarys of extraordinary Merit and Vertues come to plead with a generous Mind.

The probability of the Person being thus con∣firmed, I shall now consider that of the Manner of his obtaining her Love. To this end we must still keep in mind the known and experienc'd Virtue of the Moor which gave Credit, and Au∣thority to what he said; and then we may easily suppose the story of his Fortunes, and Dangers, would make an impression of Pity, and admira∣tion at least on the bosom of a Woman, of a no∣ble and generous Nature. No Man of any ge∣nerous Principle, but must be touch'd at suff'ring Virtue, and value the noble sufferer, whose Cou∣rage and Bravery, bears him through uncommon Trials and extraordinary Dangers. Nor would it have less force on a Woman of any principle of Honour and tenderness; she must be mov'd and pleas'd with the Narration, she must admire his constant Virtue, and Admiration is the first step to Love, which will easily gain upon those who have once entertain'd it.

Dido in Virgil was won by the Trojan stranger she never saw before, by the relation of his for∣tunes and Escapes; and some particulars of the

Narration of Aeneas, carrys full as ridiculous and absurd a Face as any thing, Othello says; the most trifling of which is,

And of the Cannibals that each other eat the Anthropophagi, and Men whose Heads do grow beneath their Shoulders.

for all the rest is admirably fine, though our wonderful Critic can't relish it, there is a moving Beauty in each Line, the words are well chosen, and the Image they give great, and Poetical; what an Image does Desarts Idle give? that very Epithet is a perfect Hypotyposis, and seems to plac•…•… me in the midst of one, where all the active hur∣ry of the World is lost; but all that I can say, will not reach the excellence of that Epithet so many properties of such a place meet in it. But as for the Cannibals, &c. and the Men whose Heads grow beneath their Shoulders. I have heard it con∣demn'd by Men whose tast I generally approve, yet must they give me leave to dissent from them here, and permit me either wholly to justifie Shakespear, even here, or at least to put him on an equal bottom with Virgil, in his most beauti∣ful part. For the fault lyes either in the Impro∣bability of those things, or their Impertinence to the business in Hand. First Probability we know is built on common Opinion; but 'tis certain the Canibals have been generally believed, and that with very good grounds of Truth; so that there can be no doubt of the probability of that.

Next for the Men whose Heads grow beneath their Shoulders, though that is not establish'd on so good a Foundation as Truth; yet the general Tradi∣tionary belief of it in those days, is sufficient to give it a poetical probability. As this was not Improbable, so neither was it Impertinent; for 'tis certain, that whatever contributed to the raising her Idea of his Dangers and Escapes, must con∣duce to his aim, but to fall into the Hands of those, whom not only the fury of War, but that of Custom makes Cruel, heightens the danger, and by consequence the Concern, especially in a young Lady possess'd with the legend of the Nur∣sery, whence she must have amazing Ideas of the Danger of the brave Moor from them.

But at worst, Shakespear is on as good a bottom as Virgil, in this particular; the Narrative of Aeneas, that won the Heart of Dido, has many things full as trifling and absurd as this, if not far more? For is there not as much likelyhood that there shou'd be a People that have their Heads grow beneath their Shoulders, as the Race of the Cyclops, that have but one Eye, just beneath their Forheads, and that Poly∣phemus his Eye was as big as a Grecian Shield, or the Sun; or that he cou'd wade through the Sea, without being up to his middle. Can there be invented any thing so unnatural; as the Harpys in the third Book, who had the Faces of Virgins, Wings, Feathers, &c. Of Birds, and a human Voice, as is evident from the infaelix vates, that foretold 'em they shou'd not build their destin'd

City, till they had eaten their Tables, or Tren∣chers, (which by the way was a trivial and ridi∣lous sort of a pun, as the event shew'd, when Iulus found out the Jest,) nor is Scylla a more natural mixture. But let's hear the description of all three, from Virgil himself, least I be thought to injure his Memory, first of the Harpys in the Strophades.

Virginei volucrum vultus, faedissima ventris, Proluvies, uncoe{que} Manus, & pallida semper Ora fame.—

The beginning of Horace's Art of Poetry, Huma∣no Capiti, &c. seems a Copy of this; nor is Scylla a more Homogeneous Composition.—

At Scyllam caecis cohibet spelunca latebris Ora exsertantem, & naves in saxa trabentem: Prima hominis facies, & pulchro pectore virgo Pube tenus, postrema immani Corpore pri•…•…is Delphinum Caudas utero commissa luporum.

Then for the Cyclop Polyphemus, the Grecian he takes abord, tells him his Eye is

Argolici clypei, aut Phaebeae lampadis Instar.

and a little after lest this shou'dbe taken'as an hy∣perbolical magnifying it by the terror of the fear∣ful Greek; in his own Person, he says of him

—Graditur{que} per aequ•…•…r. Jam medium, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fluctus latera ardu•…•… tinxit.

The Absurdities in Homer are much more nu∣merous than those in Virgil. (I mean those that must pass for such, if this in Shakespear is so,) But because they relate not to this particular, I shall say nothing of them here. All these I have remark'd in the Narration of Aeneas, hinder'd not, but that it won the Heart of Dido, though firmly bent against a second Amour,

Iile meos primus, qui me sibi junxit amores Abstulit: ille habeat secum, serv•…•…{que} sepulchro.

especially one that was not like to be so very Ho∣norable. Desdemona had no such tye, to steel her He•…•… against Othello's Tong•…•…e, no n•…•… •…•…ason to curb that Passion she ne'er felt before, when the pre∣vailing Virtue of the Moor, att•…•… her Heart; well may we therefore believe Desdemona shou'd yield to the same force, that conquer'd Dido, with all her Resolutions and Engagements, to the memory of 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Hear how she cries out to her Sister Ann,

Quis nov•…•…s hic nostris successit sedibus hospes Quem sese ore •…•…erens? Quam forti pectore & Armis? Credo equidem, nec vana sides, genus esse deorum. Dig•…•…neres animo•…•… timor arguit, heu quibus ille •…•…actatur fatis, quae bella exhausta canebat.

and at the beginning of this fourth Book,

—Haerent infixi pectore Vultus Verba{que}—

and the latter end of the first Book confirms this

Multa super P•…•…iamo Rogitans super Hectore multa.

cou'd Aeneas his Story not, one jot more mo∣ving or probable make a meer stranger pass for a God, with the Carthaginian Queen at first hearing; and must it be incredible, that the same shall not make Othello pass for so much as a Man? The Parallel is so exact, that I am apt to think, Shakespear took the Copy from Virgil. Nor can it justly be urg'd, that these things were believ'd by the Romans, since they were so far from believing these trifles, that Seneca in his E∣pistles, laughs at those Fables, that constituted their Hell, which was of much greater conse∣quence. But supposing they were believ'd, the same will hold good for Shakespear, in this par∣ticular, I vindicate him in: for 'tis built on as vulgar and general a tradition, as these Fables of old were, so that the advantage is equal betwixt these two great Poets in this particular.

By this time, I hope our Drolling Caviller, will grant it no such monstrous absurdity for the Doge to say,

I think this Tale wou'd win my Daughter too.

since without doubt, that short summing up of what was only the subject of his tale to Desdemo∣na, with only the supposition of the particulars, must move any generous Brest.

But should all I have said fall of clearing the Probability of the Fable from Mr. Rymers Objecti∣ons, yet ought not that to rob Shakespear of his due Character of being a Poet, and a great Ge∣nius: unless he will for the same reason deny those prerogatives to Homer, and Sophocles. The for∣mer has often lost the Probable, in the Admirable, as any Book of the Iliads and Odysses will prove; and the latter, as Rapin justly observes, has not kept to probability, ev'n in his best performance, I mean in his Oedipus Tyrannus; for (as Rapin has it) Oedipus ought not to have been ignorant of the assassinate of Laius, the ignorance he's in of the Murder, which makes all the Beauty of the intrigue, is not probable; and if a Man wou'd play the Droll with this Fable of Oedipus, it would furnish full as ridiculous a Comment, as witty Mr. Rymer has done from this of Othello; and sure I can't err in imitating so great a Critic.

First, then let all Men before they defend them∣selves on the High-way, think well of what they do, lest not being Mathematically sure he's at home, he kill his own Father, which perhaps is something dangerous in this Age, where such boon Blades frequent the Road, and such good-natur'd Ladies have the disposing of our fate.

Next, let e'ry Younger Brother, that ventures to ride in another Man's Boots, be very circum∣spect, lest he marries his own Mother.

Thirdly and Lastly, This may be a caution to the few Fools that doat on Virtue, that they trustto a rotten Reed that will be of little use to 'em, since all is whirl'd about by an unavoidable necessity.

These are much more the consequence of this Fa∣ble of Oedipus, than those wond'rous Truths, he draws from that of Othello. Nay, the moral Sophocles con∣cludes his Oedipus with, will serve as justly for Othello, viz. That no Man can be call'd happy before his Death. But the whole Fable of Oedipus, tho' so much admir'd, is so very singular and improbable, that 'tis scarce pos∣sible, it ever cou'd have happen'd; on the other hand, the fatal Jealousie of Othello, and the Revenge of Jago, are the natural Consequences of our ungo∣vern'd Passions, which by a prospect of such Tragi∣cal effects of their being indulg'd, may be the better regulated and govern'd by us. So that tho' Othello ends not so formally with a moral Sentence, as Oedipus does, yet it sets out one of much greater Value. If it be a fault in Shakespear, that it end not with such a sentence, Sophocles is guilty of no less in his Philoctetes, which not only concludes without any Moral, but is also incapable of being reduc'd to any, at least of any moment. Whereas the Morals of Hamlet, Macheth, and most of Shakespear's Plays, prove a lesson of mightier con∣sequence than any in Sophocles, except the Electr•…•…, viz. that Usurpation, tho' it thrive a while, will at last be punish'd, &c. Besides the worst, and most

irregular of Shakespear's Plays, contains two or three such Fables, as that of Philoctetes, which an∣swers not one of the ends of Poetry; for it nei∣ther pleases or profits, it moves neither Terror nor Compassion, containing only a dry account, with∣out any variety of the perswasions of Pyrrhus, to get Philoctetes to go with him to Troy with the Ar∣rows of Hercules; who, after he had by Treache∣ry gain'd 'em, as foolishly restores 'em to him a∣gain, and Troy might have stood long enough, if Hercules had not come from the Gods, to bend the stubborn Fool, that rather chose to be misera∣ble himself; with his endless 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and his Complaints of his Foot, something like the Tumors, Chilblains, Carnosities, &c. rak'd together by Mr. Rymer. And all that can be learnt from this Play of Sophocles is,

First, That we never send Boys of our Er∣rand, unless we have a God at command to make up the business he has spoil'd; if we mean our business shall be thoroughly done, and not the fate of a Nation sacrific'd to a pain in the Foot.

Secondly, Not to trust Strangers we never saw before, for a fair Tale, with our Safety and Trea∣sure, without a Mathematical Demonstration of their Fidelity and Trust.

Lastly, That all Men with fore Feet shou'd not despair of a Cure.

But I have dwelt so long on the Fable, that I have not time enough to discuss the other parts, as the Characters, Thoughts, and Expressions, so ful∣ly as I ought; especially, the Thought and Expres∣sion,

for 'twou'd require a Volumn near as •…•…ig as Shakespear, to set them off according to their worth; with all the proofs from Grammar or Rhetoric of their Truth and Justness. The Fable is look'd upon by Rapin, and after him by our Gl•…•…∣ner of Criticisms, as the Soul of the Play, and there∣fore I may be excus'd for my prolixity in its de∣fence, and allow'd a little more time for a full Justification of the other parts of Shakespear, at∣taqu'd with less Reason and Justice. Mr. Rymer has taken above ten Year to digest his Accusations, and therefor•…•… it can't in reason be thought I shou'd not in half so many days be able to perform all the work he has cut out: Nor can I proceed to a particular consideration of all the Characters of this Play at this time. Desdemona I think is the most faulty: but since our Antagonist will have Ja∣go, the most intollerable, I shall consine my self to that.

What I have said in the beginning of my Vin∣dication of Shakespear, must here be recollected on Jago's behalf; besides which, I have some other considerations to offer, which I hope will ligh∣ten the insupportable load of Contempt, and Ridicule cast on him by our Caviller.

First, Therefore in our Judgment of Jago, we must follow the Rule of Horace, so much stood upon by Mr. Rymer.

Intererit multum Cholcus an A•…•…yrius, Theb•…•… nutritus, an Argis.

We are not only to respect the profession of the Man in our Judgment of the Character, but we must also have an Eye to his Nation, the Country he was born in, and the prevailing temper of the People, with their National Vices; by this Rule we shall find Jago, an Italian; by Nature Selfish, Jealous, Reserv'd, Revengeful and Proud, nor can I see any reason to suppose his Military Profession shou'd to powerfully influence him to purge away all these Qualities, and establish contrary in their room. Nor can I believe the quotation from Horace, which our Caviller produces, can justly be extended to all degrees of Soldiers.

It runs thus in Horace. ——Honoratum si forte reponis Achillem Impig•…•…r, Jr•…•…cundus, inex•…•…rabilu, Acer, Jura neget sib•…•… Nata, nibil non arrog•…•…t armis.

'Tis plain from what goes before, and what fol∣lows after that Horace meant not this, at least for a general Character of all Soldiers, but only as a di∣rection for the drawing Achilles, or such a Hero; for h•…•…'s enumerating the Manners, of those public Characters, that were generally made use of by the Romans in their Tragedies, for this follows.

Sit Medea ferox invicta{que} Flebilis Ino, Perfidus Ixion, Jo vaga, trist•…•… Orestes.

And a few Lines before he is giving the Characters of several Professions and Ages, from whence he

proceeds to these particular Characters of Achilles, Ino, Medea, &c. drawn from the known Stories of them, and this is confirm'd by what he joyns to this;

Siquid inexpertum scenae committis, &c.

That is, if you take known Persons, that have for so many Ages trod the Stage, this must be their Character; but if you bring some new person on it, that was never there before, then take care that your Persons preserve that Character you give 'em at first, &c.

I know Rapin gives a Soldier these qualities; Fierce, Insolent, Surly, Inconstant, which partly are the effects of their manner of Life, but I can't conceive these to be opposite to those other in Jago. The Characters or Manners, as the same Rapin observes, are to be drawn from Experience; and that tells us, that they differ in Soldiers ac∣cording to their Nature and Discipline; that also tells us that the Camp is not free from Designs, Su•…•…plantings, and all the effects of the most crimi∣nal of Passions, and this indeed is evident from the Draught Homer gives us of the Grecian Camp, where Love was not judg'd so contrary to the Cha∣racter of a General, as Mr. Rymer wou'd have it thought: Achilles and Agamemnon having both their admir'd Captives. And let Mr. Rymer say what he please, I can prove that 'twas the Love of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that troubl'd Achilles, and confirm'd his anger, as well as the meer 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of having his prize ta∣ken

from him, but of that in another place. In short, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Homer differs as much from the Soldiers of Mr. Rymers acquaintance, as Jago does; nor is he the only Soldier that cou'd dissemble. Si∣non in Virgil and Neoptolemus in Sophocles, are as guilty of it as he.

But granting that Jago's Character is defective something in the Manners, Homer and Sophocles have been guilty (the first much more, the other not much less) of the same: what are the Wounds, Scuffles, Passions, Adulteries, &c. Of the Gods and Goddesses, obvious to the meanest Capacity, and beyond all dispute? Is not the Character of Oedipus Coloneut of Sophocles, as Rapin remarks, ex∣treamly unproportionable to Oedipus Tyrannus? And tho' Mr. Rymer is so severe, to deny that the Character of Jago is that of a Soldier, because so different from his Military Acquaintance; yet I'm confident h•…•… wou'd take it extreamly amiss, If I shou'd deny him to be a Critic, because so contra∣ry to all the Critics that I have met with, play∣ing the merry Droll, instead of giving serious and solid Reasons for what he advances.

The other Characters of this Play I must deser till another time, as well as a thorough defence of his Thoughts and Expression, both which he whol∣ly denies him; and with an extravagantly won∣derful Assurance publicly tells us; that the Neigh∣ing of a Horse has more Humanity, (for that is his Wittycism) than the Tragical Flights of Shake∣spear.

Mr. Rymer's Friend Rapin tells us, that the Thoughts are the expression of the Manners, as Words are of Thoughts, that is the natural result of the Manners, which being already clear'd from his Accusations, the vindication of the Thoughts are included in them, as well as their Condemnation in his Charge against the other, for he disda•…•…ns to be particular in his proof. Then for the Expres∣sions of Shakespear, none but Mr. Rymer can find fault with 'em. The excellence of expression consists in this, that it bear a proportion to the Things; that is, that it give us a full Idea of 'em; that it be apt, clear, natural, splendid, and nume∣rous. There is scarce a serious part of Shakespear, but has all these qualities in the Expression.

To omit several Scenes in Hamlet, particular∣ly that betwixt him, and his Fathers Ghost: I'll only instance in two or three Speeches, that are, and have been on the Stage in our Memory, which may give some sample of the Poetry, Thought, and Expression of Shakespear. The first is in the Midsummer Nights Dream, now acted under the name of the Fairy Queen. Act the Third, T•…•…∣nia speaks thus,

Titan:

Be kind and courteous to this Gentleman. Hop in his Walks, and Gambol in his Eyes, Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberrys, With purple Grapes, green Figgs and Mulberrys, The Hony Baggs steal from the Humble Bees; And for Night Tapers crop their waxen Thighs,

And light them at the fiery Glow-worms Eyes; To have my Love to Bed and to Arise. And pluck the Wings from painted Butter-flyes, To fan the Moon Beams from his sleeping Eyes. Nod to him Elves, and do him Courtesies.

is not this extreamly poetical and fine? The next I shall take from the 2d. Scene of Richard the Second.

York.

Then as I said the Duke (great Bullingrbook) Mounted upon a hot and fiery Steed, Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know, With slow but stately Grace kept on his course While all Tongues cry'd God save the Bullingbrook. You wou'd have thought the very Windows spoke, So many greedy looks of Young and old, Through Casements darted their desiring Eyes Upon his Visage, and that all the Walls With painted Imag'ry had said at once, Jesu preserve thee, welcome Bullingbrook. Whilst He, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed lower, than his proud Steeds Neck Bespeak them thus; I thank ye Countrymen. And th•…•… still do•…•…g thus he pass'd along,

Dutches.

Alass! Poor Richard where rides he the while?

York.

As in a Theatre the Eyes of Men, After a well grac'd Actor leaves the Stage Are idly bent on him that enters next Thinking his pra•…•…lo to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Even so, or with much 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 Mens Eyes, Did scowl on Richard: No Man cry'd God save No joyful Tongue gave Him his welcome home. (him. But Dust was thrown upon his Sacred Head Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off His Face still combating with Tears and Smiles, (The Badges of Grief and Patience) That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd The Hearts of Men, they must perforce have melted, And Barbarism it self have pitty'd him.

Are not here all the Beautys of Thought, joyn'd with all those of expression? is it possible any thing that has but the least Humanity, shou'd be dull enough not to relish, not to be mov'd, nay trans•…•…orted with this? I must confess, it has fir'd me, so that I think our Critic better deserves the Arraignment Tib•…•…rius gave the Poet, for ill repre∣senting Agamemnon, whose Character at best, was but a Child of Fancy, and therefore subject to the Poets Will, but to Blaspheme such a visible Excellence, Merits the highest contempt, if not a greater Punishment.

Shakespears Numbers carry such an Harmonious Majesty, that what Rapin and some other Critics say of Homer, is justly his due; they give a noble Beauty to the meanest things. 'Tis true, the Words he sometimes uses, by their absol•…•…teness renders some of his Expressions a little dark, but then we must remember the great alteration our Language has undergone since his time; but ex∣amine

well the sense of his Words, you'l seldom find him guilty of Bombast, (tho' laid to his charge by Mr. Rymer,) that is Words and Thoughts ill match'd. On the contrary, they are generally so well sorted, that they present us with so lively and sensible an Image of what they import, that it fixes it self in our Minds, with an extream satisfaction; and the more we view it, the more it gains upon us.

I shall hereafter step into the Scenes with Mr. Rymer, and also examine his Narrations, Delibe∣rations, Didactic and Pathetic Discourses, which are all that are made use of in Tragedy, in which if he sometimes err, he has yet perform'd well; and amidst his faults you shall find some thoughts of a great Genius. I shall only now observe en passant, in defence of that Scene, betwixt Jago and Othello, that we ought not to be imposed on by positive assertions, or think because Mr. Ry∣mer tells us so, that half words, and ambiguous Reflexions, do not naturally work up Jealousie, or that 'tis not natural, for Othello to catch at e'ry blown surmise. These Assertions of our Critic shew him to be very ignorant of the very na∣ture of this Passion, for as 'tis reduc'd to the pri∣mitive Desire by the Moralists, so 'tis thus by them defin'd,

Jealousie is a fear of loosing a good we very much value and esteem, arising from the least causes of Suspicion.

now 'tis evident even from the trifling, and false Objections of his enemies that Shakespear had this very notion of this passion. For this reason 'tis, he makes Othello swallow the very first bait laid by Jago for him. Cassio is found with Desdemona, and on Othello's approach, consciously retires, which tho' he did to avoid his Anger not Jealousie; yet Jago improves the opportunity to his purpose, with an—I like not that; then to awake the Moors Jealousie by degrees, he takes occasion from Cassio's departure to question him—did Cassio when you woo'd my Lady know of your Love? Which he pursues with half-words, and ambiguous Reflexions, that plainly imply more than they barely express, in which he discover'd, fear to speak out what he desir'd Othello shou'd know, the natural consequence of which is the touching a jealous Nature, with curiosity in a thing, that so nearly related to his Happiness. E'ry word rous'd some surmrize; and as Ovid ob∣serves, cuncta 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Amantes, Lovers fear any Appearance. But more of this hereafter. In the in the mean while I'm pretty confident, e'ry Mans own Sence will supply my defect of a par∣ticular defence of the working up of Othello's pas∣sion of Jealousie.

And now Sir, 'tis time to turn my Thoughts from a defence of Shakespear, to an excuse of my own Transgression, in addressing this Essay to you without asking your Leave. I'm not for asking pardon for an Offence, before I have committed it, and then I am willing if possible,

to extenuate it from all its heightning Circum∣stances; and Sir, I hope I have enough to say for my Self in committing this.

First, I knew your Nature so well, that tho' no Name, cou'd have given more Authority to my defence of Shakespear; yet wou'd you never have consented to the manner I thought my self oblig'd to treat his accuser in; for tho' he has had no regard to the public Friendship you have express'd for him; yet I know you have not re∣sented the grosness of his public abuse of you, with indignation enough to permit me to deal with him in the same manner; for what was said of a great Lord, is fully as true of you, viz. that you are

The best natur'd Man, with the worstnatur'd Muse,

for tho' there is nothing so strong and so cutting as your Satire; yet is there nothing •…•…o easie and so affable as your Temper and Conversation. Par∣don me, I will speak what I know of you, and let my Enemies make the best on't, whose Ma∣lice I value not, if I can but prevail with you to forgive this boldness

The Ingenious and Honourable Theocrine to Theopompus; shewing Her the faithfullest of Lovers, and most Pious of Children.

ALL your Letters are at last arriv'd safe, tho' it happen'd with them, as in a great many other things: what shou'd a came first, came last, by which I'm sorry to find, that one who is to judge of Souls, knows no better how to judge of Merit; else whatever your request had been, it had been granted. I wish all that can serve the generous Theopompus, had my sense of his deserts, then shou'd the Friend of my dear Poliarchus be rais'd, as far above those self Interest'd Wretches, as his Soul now is, and Generosity was above theirs. For most of the sordid World, neither know how to reward the living, nor how to do justice to the dead; but these are crimes unknown to all that were inspir'd with the Friendship for our dear Poliarchus.

There are few of the Troubles that attend us in this Life, but when we seriously examine their

Cause, we shall find we our selves in one kind or other, have in some degree contributed to 'em. For who can be of a generous Temper, and not bear a part with the Afflicted? this has (as it it does with all that are good) made you sensible of my sufferings, which has by an unforeseen Consequence brought the trouble of many impertinent Letters on your self; for 'tis impossible to suffer you ever to give over that pleasing Melancholy Subject you so in∣geniously entertain me with. The Death of my Poliarchus is as lasting in my Memory as I am: and as I am the most unfortunate of Women by his loss, so can all other Afflictions be but like drops of Water into the abyss of the Sea: Yet have I met lately with an additional Grief, that bears a much greater proportion. That dear Mother I have been in care for, is now taken from me to augment the number of the blest above; my ten∣der Love, and grateful Duty, was such for my un∣equal'd Parent, that had I not known how to live after the Loss, and Affliction you saw me in, I cou'd scarce have supported this; but That has made me know that there is a vast difference be∣twixt Tears shed for those whom Death chooses, and Those who make choice of Death, rather than live without what they too much valu'd. This vast conflux of misfortunes, gives me a greater desire to be assur'd what knowledge my departed Friends will have of me at our meeting in their blest abode, for since I've committed the sacred Memory of Poliarchus to your care, (which whilst I live, can never dye.) I am eternally entertaining

all, I can get to listen, with my sad Story; bu•…•… you can make it from age to age endure. Time the certain cure, of all other ills can never lessen mine, so that I often resolve to seek out a solitude, where if Reason cannot overcome my Grief, Grief may overcome me, and make my wretched days short as I wish 'em, and my unhappy state re∣quires.

I am extreamly sensible of your generous com∣passion, and must tell you that when I first converst in this kind with the ingenious Theopompus, my Esteem cou'd then be grounded on no other score, but what great value he had for what deserv'd Love and Esteem from all the World, my best and dearest Poliarchus: But now you have engag'd me the way that most prevails with Humane Nature, by a Real Sense of my Pain. That is so gene∣rous a piece of good Nature, that 'tis to be ad∣mir'd wherever 'tis found; and in return, I wou'd if I cou'd forbear tormenting you any more with my Grief. But Ah! How can I cease my com∣plaints to one, who so tenderly apprehends 'em, and so excellently applys the Cordial of unequal'd Advices. This makes you often troubl'd with my Melancholly Life; for I declare I had rather read your obliging Expressions for our dead Friend, than all the finest things the greatest of Mankind can say on any other Subject, but not to tire you all at once; I shall here conclude, that I am

your Friend, and Servant. Theocrine.

To ACME, before I had seen her.

I Ought not in Prudence (Madam) to let you know the unreasonable extent of your Charms, for fear it destroy the Happiness I aim at in your Pitty; Cruelty and Pride being generally the ef∣fect of so Unlimited a Power. Yet, since you can∣not pity, without knowing the Sufferer, I must inform you, Divine Maid, that I have increas'd the number of your Slaves, without so much as the pleasure of seeing you for all the Sighs you have cost me.

Love indeed is an Off'ring that ought to be laid on the soft Altars of Beauty; But, Madam, sure never was by any, but my self, on that of an Un∣known Deity. We keep the Bleeding Victims of our Hearts, as long as we can, and only yield 'em up to the Irresistible Force of the present Fair One.

This, Madam, is the common Condition of Lovers; but as my Passion has an extraordinary Object in you, so have your Beauties an uncom∣mon Influence on me: for Charm'd by I know not what Divine Witchery, I Sacrifice my poor Heart to your very Name, without putting you to the ex∣pence of one killing Look, to oblige me to't; Re∣port has often engag'd the Curiosity, but never till now won the Affections.

The first mention of you inspir'd me with all the tender Thoughts of Love; and being oblig'd to personate the Lover in Print, I had Recourse to the Divine Idea, I had form'd of you, Madam, to

qualifie me for it; you were the only Heavenly Muse that I invok'd, which abundantly furnish'd me with all the Transporting Ruptures of Love. But alass! Madam, while I too much gave way to Imagination, it carry'd me to a View of those Joys, none but you can impart, at left too charm∣ing fair one, so much justice is due to the most uncommon of Lovers, as to permit him the Blessing of your Conversion.

Ah! Madam, excel the rest of your Sex in Per∣fections of Mind, as much as you do in those of Body, and let not Pride and Cr•…•…y level you with 'em; like a lawful Prince maintain the Glo∣ro of your Empire, by the happiness of your Vas∣sals, and be not like a Tyrant, proud of their De∣struction, at least permit the address of

the greatest of Slaves, Septimuis.

To ACME, after I had seen her.

WHat ever Doubts you were pleas'd to make of my passion before I saw you, Madam, because so uncommon; yet since I have now seen you, I hope you can no longer suspect the Reality of my love, for sure you must know 'tis impossible to behold that Face with an unwounded Heart.

'Twas not at least possible for me (who came preingag'd with strong desires) to see you, with∣out the extremity of Love.

I sigh'd and languish'd for you before, without the pleasure of feasting my greedy Eyes with the delicious banquet of your Looks. How often did I envy those your Eyes made slaves, whilst I fell a victim to your very Name, without a sight of that Heav'n I dy'd for? How often have I said,

How blest, how more then happy must be Prove Who from her looks drinks in full draughts of Love, For after Pain he meets with present Joys; With a too envy'd Fate, dissolves and Dyes, In the vast Beatific Vision of her Eyes.

these were my thoughts then Madam, and Ima∣gination fell short of Reality; for I wou'd not for a thousand greater torments, than the vast in∣crease of my passion has brought me, have been without that too too fleeting pleasure of seeing you last Sunday. 'Tis true, that was not sufficient to calm all my Griefs and Sighs. An empty view of Heaven, was not the utmost bounds of my Longing: and Love took it only as an earnest of greater Satisfaction, and now makes use of it, but to aggravate my suff'rings, which nothing but your Pitty can lessen.

I wou'd not Madam, put you to too great an expence of Pitty at once, I only desire your leave to adore you, and a reviving look now and then to support my languishing Soul. I wish

I must confess your welcome Pitty shou'd extend so far, as to admit the humblest and most loving of your Slaves sometimes to your Conversation; I wish too—but shou'd I trouble you with all my Wishes, it wou'd be endless, and thought perhaps presumptuous, for they are extravagant, and have no limits but in you, soaring as my Love, and Boundless as your Charms:

And cannot a Wreath thus toss'd, thus distract∣ed with such hopeless Wishes, merit your Com∣passion? Can nothing but Death attone for my loving you? And oh too charming Acme! I wish I were but as sure of your Pity. as I am of being the most miserable of Men whilst I live, and soon a Ghost without it.

Give me leave Madam, to hope you will not always deny it me—mistake me not. This hope is not built on an over-weening Confidence in my own Merits, (yet if Love be so I have the greatest) but on that noble Idea, I form of your Mind from the Beauty of your Body, for sure Na∣ture cannot be so proposterous in the most Solemn of her Works, as to leave such outward perfection unfinish'd within. And pitty Madam, is the grea∣test and most consummate attribute of the No∣blest Mind, as Beauty is of the Body.

Nay, Beauty is of no use nor Advantage with∣out Pitty, and the cruellest of your Sex must at last have recourse to it, after they have foolishly sacrific'd many of the precious hours of flying, and irrecoverable Youth to a barbarous and un∣accountable Custom; if they resolve not, still more foolishly to fling away the greatest, and

most valuable of Heav'ns Blessings Beauty, and Youth without making use of 'em.

The Misers of Money have more Reason', than those of Beauty: for the former have the store they spare still by them, to gratifie their Ambition or Pleasure of viewing it; but the lat∣ter deny themselves the enjoyment of that Trea∣sure, that has no other use, and which they can't preserve with all their care; and 'tis the heighth of folly to spare that, which tho' we use not, flys swiftly fromus without any Advantage and which can never be recover'd.

Be not therefore, my adorable Acme, so impro∣vidently Provident, of the fleeting Store, as o complement a senseless and customary Barbarity, at the expence of your Justice and Reason; they both demand your Pitty and your Love. For Retaliation is the Law of Justice, Love for Love, and Heart for Heart, as well as Eye for Eye, and Hand for Hand. And Reason wou'd perswade you to lay your coming Years out in Pleasure, and none so innocent, so lasting, and so vast a•…•… Love.

Love's the most generous Passion of the Mind. The safest Refuge Innocence can find.

'Tis founded in Nature, the World and all Man∣kind owe their beings to'•…•….

'Tis true Madam, I am not form'd with all that nice proportion, and that curious shape, that Fops are so proud of, and Women so much cover; hut yet my Mind (nor is it a boast to say so) ex∣cells them. I dress not like a Bian, nor do I

move by Art, but then, too charming Acme, I do not love by art as he does. My Form, my Mien, and my Love are of a Piece, plain and sincere, and only inform'd by Nature.

If all this merit not your Love, it must your Pitty and Friendship, and on any Terms I wou'd be admitted to the number of your Slaves.

Septimius

To the Proud Acme.

THe sending back my three last Letters, Ma∣dam, makes me suppose you can take no great Pleasure in detaining the former, and that I now do you a very grateful Office in sending for 'em. And Madam, you can't doubt but that it must be a wond'rous Satisfaction to one so infinitely ena∣mour'd, as I am, to please you at any Rate. If you send 'em not, I'shall conclude, that how-ever un∣acceptable the Offerer was, the Sacrifice was wel∣come; but if you return 'em, I shall have the mighty comfort amidst my Sighs, to kiss something that has touch'd those Hands, that are not us'd to bestow any Favours on Men in my Circumstances.

Well, Madam, since you are so cruel, 'tis well I've some other Balm in store for my wounded Heart; for Women to me like Scorpions, have always been their own Cure. If their Eyes have pierc'd my Heart, their Vanity, Folly or Pride, has generally re∣stor'd it to perfect Health. And I am sensible that I shall never be entirely undone or l•…•…st in Love, 'till I meet with one as free from aff•…•…cted Co•…•…ness, as

from affected Languishments, and such pretty arti∣ficial Tweers, designing Glances, betwixt Invi∣tation and Denyal, as are no small Auxiliarys in Acmes Conquests. The only Bond, Madam, that tyes my poor Heart for ever, to the Oar of Love, is an Innocent, Free, and Obliging Kind∣ness, Sense, and an Agreeable Conversation and Humor, with an Exemption from Defects of Constitution, and Body, that shall be name∣less, for Reasons best known to my self. And 'till I meet with such an one, my Heart, I thank my Stars, has so much the command of it self, as to admit as much, or as little of Love as it plea∣ses; else Madam, in what a miserable pickle shou'd I now have been d'e think?—Sighing, Mourning, and Dying, to no purpose? besides, cursing, Fate, Stars, Planets, and all that (as Mr. Bays says) for a damn'd Ingrate?

But since 'tis now over no more of that, thou wondrous fair one, lest you shou'd think me yet your Power: but as my Passion for Acme, had a plaguy odd Beginning; so shall it here have full as Odd an ending.—For the Duce (or any thing, but your Eyes) take me, if I am not at this very individual Moment within ken of the very place, whence I set out in my Voyage of Love; in which since you'l not permit me to be your Fellow Tra∣veller. I wish you un bon Voyage. Adieu,

Ma Belle Dame,

\

Adieu, Septimius.

To the Ingenious URANIA.

LETTER I.

I Was extreamly uneasie, Madam, to be on such unequal Terms with you, whilst you know where to direct to me, tho I don't to you; and I confess, I thought it as great a Grievance as Vizor Masks, by which Women have the unreasonable Advantage of walking invisibly, when Men are forc'd e'ry where to go bare-fac'd: Yet as those would be more tolerable, if none but the Ugly and Indifferent wore 'em, so should I with the greater Ease dispense with my Ignorance of a Direction to you, had you either none, or else less Wit than your Letters prove you have: For 'tis that Divine Charm that makes me desire to settle a Corre∣spondence with Urania. Nor is this Desire op∣posite to your Resolution of remaining unknown: For there shall, upon Honour, be no further Inqui∣ry made after you than you shall allow; tho G—persists in his Opinion, that you sacrifice your Wit and Sense to the Reputation of that trifling Sex you are not of; this not only the Wit of your former, but the polite Accuracy of all your Letters persuade him, since you are not only free from the false Spelling of most Women, but are so entirely exempt from false

English and Grammar, that you discover a bet∣ter Acquaintance with Lilly, than to've pass'd no further, than that Caution you quote from his Accidens; besides some Beauties in the meer Writing down your Thoughts, which few Men Practise or Know.

I am of the same Opinion of you, Madam, I declared in my former; and because I would fain have you a Woman, believe you firmly to be so: And though G—be so positive, that the Diffidence you pretend of your self, is nothing but a cunning Subterfuge from the surest Evi∣dence of your Sex, your Conversation, yet am I (taking you still for a very Woman) both pleas'd and dissatisfy'd with it; for tho' I am pleas'd, because it seems the Child of Modesty and Discretion, which seldom join with Wit, especially in a Woman; Yet am I dissatisfy'd with it, since I find 'twould deprive you of what it qualifies you for; Conversation, I mean, with Mankind, since that, not only secures you from the Fate which the Imprudent of your Sex, have for want of it, incurr; but also because it renders you more desirable to Men of Sense.

But Madam, were we such formidable Crea∣tures as you seem to make us, that you cou'd not Converse with us but you must be Ruin'd, yet is there no Danger from me, who have none of those engaging Accomplishments, that are the wondrous and bewitching Engines of your Sex's Destruction; as Wit, Shape, Dressing, Dan∣cing and Singing; with the rest of the gay

Train that take with the Fair: For I assure you I'm Ugly enough, and Dress ill enough to be a Wit, and yet am Dull enough to be Handsome, and a Beau. I can neither Sing nor Dance, and am yet very Impertinent; for though I talk little, yet even that is nothing to the pur∣pose. So that, Madam, from such a Man, the most distrustfull Lady need fear no Stratagem on her Affections, since they are generally taken by the Eye or Ear; and if neither of them be won, the Fort of your Heart is secure, and Impreg∣nable.

But referring this wholly to your self, all I shall beg, is a settl'd Correspondence with you, whether you be a real or counterfeit Woman; and shall therefore conclude with acknowledging my Error in not taking more Notice of your Welsh Friend; though it may well be Pardoned, if the Wit of the Indict•…•…r disarmed all my saty∣ric Rage, and made me rather sacrifice a just Indignation to her Praise, than forsake so plea∣sing a Theme, for so fruitless a Labor, as chastising those inhospitable Britains, who wou'd no more now have understood or improv'd the wholsom Satyre to Practice, than they did their Duty, when they made the Ingenious Urania their Ene∣my; whom to retain my Friend, shall be the Endeavour of,

Madam,

Your humble Servant, Viridomar.

LETTER II.

April the 2d. 93.

HAving at last recovered your Letter, Madam, I send this Answer to prevent your Trou∣ble of Transcribing another Copy. First there∣fore, Madam, I must tell you, I'm infinitely Proud that you do me the Honor to six your Correspondence with me; nor wou'd I for the World have the Happiness of this entercourse of Letters broke off on any Account, much less on one so trivial as you mention: For there's not a Line you send, but I esteem it more than the whole Revenue of the Post-Office. Though I must confess I could wish (and that with all my Heart) that you were not leaving the Town, because I find by this Letter, that there is no Danger of your Heart, if I shou'd be admitted to your Conversation: For I assure you, Ma∣dam, I am far from a Phoenix; though I may perhaps, have some Pretence to those your dar∣ling Qualities: And I hope the Ambition I shall always avow to be the Friend of Urania, will excuse the Vanity of being more Particular.

I hate Ingratitude where ever 'tis, and can't therefore think them Hero's, who espouse the Quarrel of the Ingratefull, let their Personal Bravery or Courage be never so great. Then, Madam, for Dissimulation, I can say this, that I'm far from loving it, and only practise it some∣times

on Compulsion, as a necessary Evil; and to say Truth, the evident Necessity of it, has made it lose the Infamy of a Vice, with al∣most all, and gain'd it the Reputation of a Vertue, with the Politick and Wise: Nor can in∣deed any Man be free from it, unless he design to purchase the Name of a Mad-man, and frighten all he knows from his Company. Con∣sider it a little, Madam, and I'm confident you'll allow a little Dissimulation necessary to the De∣corum of good Breeding; for you can't think it proper to tell this super annuated Matron, that all the Paint on her Face will not hide the tell∣tale Marks of Old Age; or that pretty pratling Virgin in all the gay Bloom of her Youth, that she's a Fool, and that she should be silent if she ha'n't a mind to sacrifice all the Trophies of her Eyes, to the Impertinence of her Tongue: Or that Beau of Sixty, that all his Charms are borrow∣ed from his Dress and Garniture; or that he's more the Creature of his Vallet, than of God Almighty, since the Vallet, has so extravagantly Transformed him from what God made him. And so on, to the rest of the Follies and Vices of Mankind. This wou'd be to make one's self more unacceptable than a Memento Mori in the midst of Joy and Pleasure. But to proceed, Madam, I'm free from Hypocrisie: Nor can I think any one an Hypocrite but an Athiest; nor any one an Athiest but a Fool. As for the Two next Endowments you require, viz. a Great Soul, and a true Nobleness of Mind, the Pra∣ctice

and different Opinions of the World, have rendred the Terms so ambiguous, that the De∣finitions of Philosophy are of small Use: I must therefore desire you to explain in your next, what you mean by them, that so I may find how far I can pretend to 'em; for I'd fain be qua∣lified for the incomparable Urania's Friend. Generosity (if I mistake not your Sense of the Word) has been my Vice and Punishment. In short, Madam, if by Good Humour you mean Good Nature, I can put in some Claim to't; but if by't you understand a brisk Jest and jovial Air, much Talk and more Laugh; Faith, Ma∣dam, I must own I'm not fond of making any Pretence to't.

Thus much for the Qualities both Negative and Affirmative you require in a Friend: Then as for the Follies and Vices you Abominate, I thank my Stars: I'm not very guilty of 'em, and think Affectation equally criminal in Gayety, as well as Gravity.

And now, Madam, since you have describ'd the Phoenix that must win your Heart, give me Leave to present you with a rough Sketch of her (that's almost as rare) that must make an ab∣solute Conquest of mine, (for as for transient Amorets, one indifferently qualified may do.) She must be moderately Fair but no Beauty; (and that's the reason I hinted at in my last, that I was sorry you told me you were no Beauty) or at least, if possible, only so in my Eye: She must be neither Proud, nor Affected; as Witty as Ura∣nia,

yet as free from Opiniature and Obstinacy as I think her. I mean not by Wit, those noisie Repartees of the Cocquets of the Town, which you with justice Condemn, but a sensible Ap∣prehension of things, which I'm confident you can't mean, when you term Wit a Scandal. In fine, Madam, she must be Easie and Free in her Conversation, very Gratefull, very Generous, and very Loving in her Nature: And when I find one so qualified, I'm entirely her Slave.

But whilst I pursue my Thoughts, I find my Letter grow too long, which is one Fault of a whining Lover, who being much your Aversion, I'll here conclude with an humble Request that I may have Leave to hope I shall one Day be so Happy, as to be admitted to your Conversation: For that, Madam, I must own is the greatest Ambition of

Your humble Servant Viridomar.

LETTER III.

YOur Raillery, Madam, on my Loss of your Letter, is as Just, as Witty; and I confess with a great deal of Confusion, I can make no Apology for't, unless an Assurance that I'll never trust your Letters in my Pocket again, at least with any other Papers.

I think my self extreamly Happy that I can please Urania in any thing; and truly, Madam, 'twas the real Value I have for you, that made me alter the Medium of our Correspondence, because my Brother had the Assurance not only to reflect upon the Direction you sent me, but also to shew your Letter to more than I desir'd shou'd have that Pleasure without your Permis∣sion. This Dealing with his Brethren of—might be Pardonable, because they have some Depen∣dance on him; but the Respect that's due to your Merit, and the Justice that's due to me, might have curb'd his Curiosity within the Bounds of Good Manners.

I hope, Madam, you'll forgive me this Disco∣very and Heat, for your Letter has made me an irreconcileable Enemy to Dissimulation, who before was never any Friend to it. You have Madam, new Molded me to your own Desire; and that Vice appears now so very Ugly and Un∣manly, that I'm extreamly asham'd I ever said a word in its Vindication: But above all, I shall think it a crying Sin, to dissemble with the Di∣vine Urania, and for that reason, Madam, I must tell you, that my Conversation with both Sexes, has given me some reason to think I'm pretty well acquainted with the general Inclina∣tions of Mankind; this, when I read your ac∣count of your self, makes you seem to me to de∣scribe an Angel, not a Woman: The glorious Image you give me of Urania, by the Vertues she doats on, and the Vices she abhors, is so ex∣treamly

uncommon, that it looks like the divine Draught of some Inspired Poets Fancy, when he informs us, by a great Example of his own Crea∣ting, what we shou'd be, and not like a Reality. And your Prose has the effect of his Numbers, conveying Instruction in its most grateful Vehi∣cle Pleasure, and so fixes the noble Idea in my Soul, and makes me in love with your Mind, be∣fore I see your Person: And you shall never per∣swade me, that Conversing with you, can ever lessen my Esteem for you: For tho the Wri∣tings of some of the most Ingenious afford a more agreeable Entertainment, than their Company, yet we may lose a great deal of their Excellency by not taking their Thoughts right; which made Martial tell Fidentinus, that by ill repeating his Verses, he made 'em his own: Besides, Mad∣am, there are a thousand Graces in the delivery that abundantly improve the Sense, a fair Lady speaks, which must encrease her Esteem, and which we lose when Absent. And, Divine Urania, since your Heart is secure in very good hands already, I can see no reason, (forgive my Freedom) why you shou'd deny this Favour, since I leave to your self the management of the Interview, and give you my Word, that you shall have the entire government of my Discourse and Actions.

But, Madam, tho I have a more earnest long∣ing to Converse with Urania, than Slaves for Liberty, the sick for Health, the poor for Rich∣es, and the Ambitious for Honours; yet Divine,

unknown, such a respect I have, such a profound Veneration for you, that I would Sacrifice even this Content (which perhaps is not of less value than even Life it self) to your least Inconveni∣cy, if I was sure it cou'd not be obtain'd with∣out prejudice to Urania.

I have a great deal to say about the Greatness and Nobleness of Mind you describe, but that wou'd be too long for a Letter that has already exceeded its just Bounds; and I hope, I may have the liberty to deliver my Sentiments by word of Mouth; only I must say that reason, not Opini∣on, general or particular, ought to decide so weighty a Point. But upon the whole, Madam, by the Vices you lay down as its Opposites I may presume to make some small pretention to it.

I wou'd fain know what more than good Na∣ture goes to the composing good Humour, since Urania says there is more; I take not good Na∣ture in that general sence you hint at, but for a freedom from Malice, Envy, Moroseness, &c. but if any part of Gaity be required, I'm at a loss, for I'm naturally of a Melancholy dispo∣sition, and dull heavy Conversation, as I former∣ly told you; and perhaps this want of an Airy Temper, with a little foolish Modesty I've al∣ways been troubled with, is that, that has made me still so Unsuccessful with the Fair, that none cou'd ever be in Love with me, whilst others with as few Brains, more Vanity, and if possi∣ble, less agreeable Persons have prevail'd. Waller says, Women stoop to the Forward and the Bold,

which are no ingredients in my Character, at least in Love, and my Converse with your Sex. So that, Madam, I hope you'll scruple no more to give me leave to wait on you, and as I prove, admit me into your Esteem, at least as far as cold Friendship will allow; or discard me for ever, a greater Curse than which cannot fall on the Head of,

Madam,

Your Humble Servant, and (if you'll give me leave to say so) True Friend, Viridomar.

LETTER IV.

May 5. 83.

COming to Town last night, and having per∣used yours, I think your Anger, Madam, against the Bookseller, very just, since 'tis indeed a Scandal to any Name in the opinion of the most Sensible part of the Town, to be in these Mercu∣ries: and the Zeal I was told you had for 'em,

made me read your first Letters with some Pre∣judice, till spight of all that disadvantage, your Wit and Address raised my Admiration, which with each Letter encreasing, begot this importu∣nate desire, you resist with so causeless and severe an Obstinacy. Causeless, Madam, because my O∣pinion of a grant of a Request, pursued with that ardour and importunity, wou'd be pure as your Stile, and just as your Thoughts; for I'm none of those censorious formal Hypocrites, that can re∣ceive the Favour, and yet condemn the Benefact∣or that bestowed it. Severe to Extravagance to make the very Desire its own Obstacle, after our most reasonable Parts have brought us acquaint∣ed. Sure, Divine Urania, you'll grant, that our Correspondence is in reason a more honourable Introduction to Friendship, than a Visit or two with a Friend; yet after this last, the most scrupulous Lady will permit one to wait on her.

You must therefore, Madam, Pardon me, if what you have urg'd, do not reconcile me to your Denial; nor have you by any means as good Reasons for this, as against Dissimulation; for there you oppos'd the common Practice ge∣nerally Erroneous, but here vindicate its falsest Principle.

The Body of good Humour I have, but want the Spirit and Life, Facetiousness, which per∣haps your Conversation may inspire, as Dull as I am.

Your Letters Madam, can never be too long, for as you find I can never write a short Letter to you, so I desire none from you but long ones, since their perusal is, if not the only, yet the greatest Pleasure of,

Madam,

Your Humble Servant, and Admiring Friend, Viridomar.

LETTER V.

ASsure your self, admired Urania, that this generous Compliance of yours with my re∣peated Importunities to see you, shall never cause any opinion but what is the natural Result of your Conduct in it; that is, that you are a Lady of Sense and Honour; and I only think you have us'd too much Caution in this tedious delay: You have sacrificed abundantly too much time to Formality and Custom, for 'tis those two, that make the Ladies more hard of access than Men. My first Letter had been sufficient to have gain'd me admission to any Man, nay, to Hobbs himself; and where our Esteem for a

Lady is of the same nature, viz. a Love of her Mind, bounded with a just Friendship, all delays are but needless Cautions. I only urge this, Madam, to shew you how far I'm from enter∣taining any ill thoughts of the dear Favour you bestowed on me in your Last; and I'm abun∣dantly assured, that the satisfaction of your Con∣versation will answer my Expectation; for what∣ever you may think of dull Terrestrial Conver∣sation (true in reference to what my Alloy will give it) 'tis my opinion it cannot be dash'd with much of Earthly Dulness where Urania is to give it Life and Spirit.

You have reason I must confess to be some∣thing cautious in making a new Friendship with one you know not, since you have been Decei∣ved; so much deceived in one you thought you might so well depend on as Asdrubal, whose Name was well suited to his Nature, and if of his own choice, certainly his Punick Faith made him so fond of a Carthaginian Name. But since Experience can't secure you in a Friend, I fansie Madam, 'twould not be Impolitick to try what Chance will do; throw your self entirely on that, and be absolutely my Friend without any more Caution. Mr. Dryden says,

—There's a necessity in Fate Why still the brave bold Man is Fortunate.

The Cautious sift, things with a too nice and jealous Eye to be easily Happy, whereas, if we

will really be so, we must a little contribute to the cheating our selves into an opinion of it; for Happiness is nothing but Opinion; and tho this sometimes end too soon, yet it makes some amends, by the Pleasure it gave us whilst we en∣tertain'd the dear Amusement; whereas, the Cau∣tious are always in pain to avoid Pain, which is like dying for fear of Death. Let not there∣fore the perfidious Ingratitude of the faithless Carthaginian influence your Judgment of Virido∣mar, who is not only an irreconcileable Enemy to Ingratitude and Insincerity, but a hater of all Common Wealths, because they have always signaliz'd their Ingratitude, and indeed lie un∣der a necessity of always being so: So that the thing you dislike in me, ought to be your great∣est satisfaction and assurance of my Fidelity and Honour, in chusing rather to Suffer, than Tri∣umph; for I have a Soul ambitious as any Man; but, Urania 'tis a brave Ambition governs me; I wou'd be Great and Just, but rather Just than Great. I wou'd be Great, to have it in my power to do Good, to destroy those Villains that Influence the Best of Princes, and make them act contrary to their Natures; for I cou'd shew a Path Princes might tread to Power, Wealth and Honour, consistent with the Love, the Interest, and the Glory of their Countries: But cou'd I make my Country the Envy of Europe and Mistress of both the Indies, and of a lasting Unity at Home, I wou'd not part with my Faith, my Honour, nor my Sincerity to effect

it. Let not Asdrubal therefore be the Rule of your Judgment of Viridomar, but assure your self I wou'd not yield to you in Faith and Sincerity: And as you will atone for all the faults I have expe∣rienced in your •…•…ex, so I'll act with such an emu∣lation of your Vertues, that I'll force you to confess I differ from most Men. Oh! I wou'd Die before I'd make my Friend and Benefactor my Tool, my Step to pass the dirty Plashes of my Fortune, and then Regard her no more, as Asdrubal has done: No, let me be Just and Poor, rather than thrive by Villainy. A Wo∣man qualified like Urania, ought to be valued above the World, and shall by Viridomar, if she ad∣mits his Friendship.

I tell you my whole Soul, Urania, you see it naked as Heaven, and void of all Disguise; I'm weary of this Villainous World, and the endless as well as bootless Impertinencies of the Conver∣sations of my own Sex, a wretched Circle they move in, of Prophaneness, Nonsense and Hurry; I have had too large a share in this foolish Prize, these destructive Baubles of the Town, that Men like Fools, bedeck themselves withal; proud of their very Infamy: I Long I Sigh for a dear Re∣fuge from them all, and nothing like the Converse of Urania, whose Sense, as well as Sex, affords a more reasonable and calmer Joy; the sense of it transports my Mind with such a strange Impetu∣osity to establish a Friendship with you, that I'm extreamly uneasie till I see you, and shall expect Friday with the most impatient desire, when ac∣cording

to your appointment, I'll certainly wait on you, and with this send you the thanks of the most grateful Mind, for this Generous Conde∣scention to the Importunity of,

Madam,

Your faithful and sincere Friend and Humble Servant, Viridomar.

An Essay at a Vindication of Love in Tragedies, against Rapin and Mr. Rymer.

Directed to Mr. DENNIS.

THE short yet just Account you give in your Prefatory Epistle to the Impartial Critic, of the Reasons that hindred the Gracians from bringing the tender Scenes of Love on the Stage in their Tragedies, makes me wish you had pro∣ceeded to a full Vindication of the Practice of our Poets in that particular; and indeed this Letter is design'd to provoke you to such an Un∣dertaking, which wou'd effectually stop the •…•…lamours of some Cynical Critics, that will not

allow any thoughts of Love agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy.

The chief Arguments indeed which these Gen∣tlemen bring, are from the Practice of the An∣cients, (the cause of which, you have given in the above quoted Epistle) whose Authority they are of opinion shou'd out-weigh Reason. But since the Ipse dixit has been so long laid aside in Philosophy, as an enemy to our Enquiries in∣to Nature, I can see no reason why it shou'd be of so much greater force in Poetry; since 'tis perhaps almost as prejudicial to our imitation of Nature in This, as to our discovery of it in the Other. As far as the Ancients and the Rules Aristotle draws from them, agree with the Cha∣racter you give these, of being nothing but good sense and Nature reduc'd to Method, I shall close with them; but when they either deviate from this, or reach not up to what may be done, I must think it but just to withdraw my self from the subjection of the Stagyrite, who has had a Reign long e∣nough o'er the Minds of Mankind, and an Em∣pire that far exceeded the Extent and Continu∣ance of his Royal Pupil Alexander.

But to deal fairly with our Opponents, I shall first propose all their Objections against this Opinion I Defend, as I find them in Rapin, and his Copier, Mr. Rymer; and then examine how far they are from being fortified by Reason, as their Admirers boast. I shall begin with Rapin; and that he may be sure to have Justice, I shall Quote him as his Friend has Translated him. Re∣flect. 20. p. 110.

Modern Tragedy turns on other Principles: the Genius of our (the French) Nation is not Strong enough to sustain an Action on the Theatre, by moving only Terror and Pity. These are Machines that will not play as they ought, but by great Thoughts and noble Expressions, of which we are not indeed al∣together so capable as the Greeks. Perhaps our Nation which is naturally Gallant, has been oblig'd to the necessi∣ty of our Character, to frame for our selves a new Sy∣stem of Tragedy, to suit with our humor. The Greeks, who were Popular Estates, and who hated Monarchy, took delight in their Spectacles, to see Kings Hum∣bled, and high Fortunes cast down, because their Ex∣altation griev'd them. The English, our Neigh∣bours, love Blood in their Sports, by the quality of their Temperament. These are Insularies sep•…•…rated from the rest of Men; we are more Humane. Gal∣lantry moreover agrees with our Manners; and our Poets believ'd that they cou'd not succeed on the Theatre, but by sweet and tender Sentiments; in which perhaps they had some Reason: For in effect, the Passions represented become Deform'd and Insipid, unless they are founded on Sentiments conformable to those of the Spectator. 'Tis this obliges our Poets to stand up so strongly for the Privilege of Gallantry on the Thea∣tre, and to bend all their Subjects to Love and Ten∣derness; the rather to please the Women, who have •…•…ade themselves Judges of these Divertisements, and •…•…surped the Right to pass Sentence. And some besides have suffer'd themselves to be prepossess'd, and led by the Spaniards, who make all their Cavaliers Amo∣rous.

'Tis by them that Tragedy began to degenerate; and we by little and little accustom'd to see Heroes on the Theatre smitten with another Love than that of Glory; and that by degrees, all the Great Men of Antiquity have lost their Characters in our Hands. 'Tis likewise perhaps by this Gallantry that our Age wou'd devise a Colour to excuse the feebleness of our Wit, not being able always to sustain the same Acti∣ons by the greatness of Words and Thoughts.

However it be, (for I am not hardy enough to declare my self against the Public) 'tis to degrade Tragedy from that Majesty, which is proper to it, to mingle it in Love, which is of a Character always light, and little suitable to that Gravity of which Tragedy makes Profession. * Hence is proceeds, that these Tragedies mixt with Gallantries, never make such admirable Impressions on the Spirit, as did those of Sophocles and Euripides; for all the Bowels were mov'd by the great Objects of Terror and Pity, which They propos'd. '•…•…is likewise for this that the Reputation of our Modern Tragedies so soon Decays, and yields but small Delight at two Years end; whereas the Greek please yet to those that have a good Taste, after two Thousand Years; because what is not grave and serious on the Theatre, tho it give Delight at present, after a short time grows Distasteful and Unpleasant; and because what is not proper for great Thoughts and great Figures in Tra∣gedy, cannot support it self. The Ancients who per∣ceiv'd this, did not Interweave their Gallantry and Love, save in Comedy. * For Love is of a Cha∣racter that always degenerates from that Heroic A•…•…

of which Tragedy must never divest it self. And nothing to me shews so mean and senseless, as for one to amuse himself with whining about frivolous Kind∣nesses, when he may be admirable by great and noble Thoughts, and sublime Expressions. * But I dare not presume so far on my own Capacity and Credit, to oppose my self of my own Head, against a Usage so Establish'd. I must be content modestly to propose my Doubts, and that may serve to exercise the Wits, in an Age that only wants Matter. But to end this Reflection with a touch of Christianism, I am per∣swaded, that the Innocence of the Theatre might be better preserv'd, according to the Idea of the ancient Tragedy; because the New is become too Essemi∣nate, by the Softness of later Ages; and the Prince de Conti, who signaliz'd his Zeal against the Mo∣dern Tragedy, by his Treatise on that Subject, wou'd without doubt, have allow'd the Ancient, because that has nothing that may seem Dangerous.

Then for Mr. Rymer, in his jovial way of Criticism, he condemns Love on the Stage in these Words, brought in indeed by Head and Shoulders.

After all, it is to be observ'd how much that Wild-Goose Chase of Romance runs still in their Heads some Scenes of Love must ev'ry where be shuffled in, tho never so Unseasonable.

The Graecians were for Love and Music, as mad as any Monsieur of them all, yet their Music kept within Bounds, attempted no Metamorphosis to turn the Dramma into an Opera: Nor did their Love come Whining on the Stage to Esseminate the Ma∣jesty

of Tragedy. It was not any Love for Briseis, that made Achilles so Wroth, it was the Affront in taking his Booty from him, in the Face of the Confederate Army. This his Stomach could not Digest.

——Nec gravem Peleidae Stomachum cedere nescii. Hor.

These are the Pillars and Supports of the Gen∣tlemen of this Opinion; so that I hope, if I can but obviate these Objections they bring, I have gained the End propos'd to my self in the Justi∣fication of the Practice of the best of our Poets, in presenting us with the tenderest Scenes of Love in Tragedies. 'Tis true, the Charge of both these Critics, is directed against the French Poets, but in the excluding Love, as derogatory to the Majesty of Tragedy, it reaches our Poets, who do the same. I have Quoted Rapin at large, because one part of the Reflection seems to an∣swer the other to my Hand; for the ground of his Accusation is the deviating from the Practice of the Ancients; for which he gives so good Reasons, that 'twould have been a madness not to have form'd a new System, since the Genius, the Character, Humour and Manners of the Peo∣ple, required as much. He says, that, In effect the Passions represented become deform'd and insipid, unless they are founded on Sentiments conformable to those of the Spectator. But before I proceed to any particular Reply, I shall draw the Objecti∣ons

both contain, into short and positive Heads, to make their Confutation the more Evident.

The whole Charge therefore, may be reduc'd to these three Heads, the 1. Motives the Mo∣derns (particularly the French) had to Intro∣duce Love into Tragedy. 2. The Objections against it: And, 3. The Effects of it. First, As to the Motives, Rapin tells us, they were the Necessity of the Character, Manners, and Temperament of the People, (which, without doubt, was the Poet's Duty to regard.) Next, to gratify the Women Judges, (which is the Poet's Duty as a Man, both in Regard of his Profit and Sex, especially when the Interest and •…•…ow∣er of the Women strike in with the Character, Manners, and Temperament of the People.) Lastly, To excuse the Feebleness of their own Wit. These are the Motives Rapin sums up of this Innovation on the Stage; which, as I have before observed, are a sufficient Justification of it, even according to himself: But for the last, 'tis only a morose Caprice of his own Fancy, for certainly there is as much Wit required to the Just, and artificial Management of the Passion of Love; as those of Fear and Terror, and those other Species of Passions that are subser∣vient to the moving of them.

I shall therefore pass to the Objections, which are four in Number, the First and Chief (in some Mens Opinion) is, That it deviates from the Practice of the Ancients; who, as the In∣ventors of Tragedy, challenge our Imitation.

'Tis they must be our Model, and as we make more or less Approaches to that in the Fabrics of our Plays, we are in a greater or lesser De∣gree of Perfection. I grant indeed, that the Ancients were the Inventors of Tragedy; nay, and of Comedy too; 'tis their due Glory. Nor will I pretend to rob 'em of it. I will also grant, that there is some Regard to be had to their Performances, as to their Model; but then I deny that by the Rules of Reason, we are oblig'd to a servile Observation of their Precepts, or Practice, without all Addition, or Improvement. Had the Practice of the First Inventors been of such Inviolable Authority, Thespis had brought Tragedy to its Perfection, and one Actor, and a deal of Chorus (more ridiculous than an en∣tire Opera) had been the non plus ultra of the Stage. But if it were lawful for Aeschylus, Eu∣ripides, Sophocles and others, to improve upon the Model Thespis had left them, why should other Poets, great as those in Genius, be depri∣ved of the same Liberty, provided it be for the Advancement of the Profit, and Glory of Tragedy? Upon this Condition I do suppose, none will deny the Moderns this Liberty to for∣sake the Steps of the Greeks. But that our Alte∣rations are for the better, will appear from the After-proofs, as well as from what I shall here say on this Particular.

First, Then 'tis evident from what you, Sir, have urged in the Impartial Critic, That the leaving off the Chorus is for the better, since it

frees it from an unnatural Part, which took up so large a Share of the ancient Tragedies; and in that, delivers it from the absurdest Improba∣bilities in Nature, which are as destructive to the End of Tragedy as any thing that can be introduced. Next, it has enlarged the Bottom on which the ancient Tragedy stood, and by Consequence extended its Use and Advantage further. It has made it a more perfect Image of Humane Life, in taking in that which has so great a Share in it, LOVE; which whether it be derogatory to the supposed Majesty of Trage∣dy, I shall next examine; if not, my Assertion is evident.

This indeed is the next Objection of our Ad∣versaries, who tell us, That the Lightness of Love degrades the Majesty and Gravity of Tragedy, diverting it from Great, and Noble Thoughts, and Sublime Expressions, to whi∣ning about frivolous Kindnesses. This I confess is the heaviest Charge in Reality, if true, and there∣fore I shall take the greatest Pains to remove it; for if Love be not guilty of this, 'tis evidently an Improvement, and therefore to be continued in that Possession of the Stage, it has gain'd with so universal an Approbation.

All the Arguments I shall bring to prove that it is not derogatory to the Majesty of Tragedy shall be drawn from—the Consideration of their Beloved Ancients; the very Meaning of the Word Majesty; and the Nature of the Passion of Love, and its Place in Regard to the others.

First, 'Tis evident from the very Concessions of Rapin, the Agreement of all Critics, and the very Nature of the Thing, That Tragedy is not of greater Majesty, and Dignity, than an Epic Poem. In his Fourth General Reflection, he tells us, That from Homer's Epic Poems, Sophocles and Euripides took the Haughty Air of the Theatre, and Idea's of Tragedy; and begins the second Particular Reflection thus: The Epic Poem is that which is the Greatest, and most Noble in Poesie. To prove which he spends all that Reflection, and the magnifying of it takes up the Third and Fourth, and at the End of the Tenth particular Reflection he tells us, That All ought to be Majestic in an Heroic Po∣em. This also seems to be confess'd by Mr. Rymer, when he, speaking of Love's effeminating the Majesty of Tragedy, Instances an Heroic Poem, viz. the Iliads of Homer, foreseeing perhaps that that might be objected against his Assertion, which is still in full force notwith∣standing his saying, That 'twas not the Love' of Achilles for Brifeis, that made him so wroth, but the Indignity received in the Face of the Confederate Army. But besides this Concession of our Op∣posers (which is indeed Argument good enough ad Hominem) the very Nature of the thing proves the same. Hero's and Kings are the Sub∣jects of both, and the principal Character of an Epic Poem, consists in the Narration (as Ra∣pin truly observes) in which it is only opposed to Tragedy, which consists altogether in Action.

The Majesty of an Epic Poem being thus de∣monstrated equal, if not superiour to that of Tragedy. If I can prove by the Practice of Homer and Virgil (the greatest of Heroic Poets) that they esteem'd not Love derogatory to the Majesty of their Poems, 'tis Proof-sufficient that it cannot degrade the Majesty of Tragedy, which is not greater than the other.

But this is evident from the Iliads of Homer, and the Aeneids of Virgil. Homer in his Iliads makes Achilles and Agamemnon in Love, one with his Captive Briseis, the other with Chryseis: For Agamemnon tells Achilles and the Council of the Graecians, that he preferrs Chryseis to Clytemne∣stra the Wife of his Youth; and that she is not inferiour to her in any of her Qualities or Beauties. He often calls her Beautiful Chryseis, and always speaks very feelingly when he men∣tions her. And Achilles his Anger had not rose to that Degree, but that he was depriv'd of his Rosie-Cheek'd Briseis. Horace was of my Opi∣nion, in his Second Epistle Book 1.

Hunc Amor, ira quidem urit utrum{que}

Which you very justly English thus,

Whose injur'd Love•…•… in both strange Fury breeds.

For the Rise of Agamemnon's Passion is evident∣ly from his Love to Chryseis, as he plainly con∣fesses in his Expressions; and that of Achilles

was not only exaggerated, but confirm'd by the same Loss of her he Lov'd. Ovid in his Amours, lib. 2. is of the same Mind.

Thessalus ancillae sacie Briseidos arsit: Serva Mycenaeo Phoebus amata duci.

And in other Places he has to the same pur∣pose. Besides in the Third Book of the Ili∣ads, when Hector proclaims the Challenge of Paris, to fight Menelaus in single Combat, the Condition is, that the Victor shou'd possess He∣lena for his Wife. If this be not below the Ma∣jesty of an Epic Poem, certainly the Nobler Scenes of Love cannot be below that of Tragedy. But the Case is yet plainer in Virgil, for the Fourth Book of his Aeneids, is wholly on the Intrigue of Aeneas and Dido, where that Divine Poet has given the finest Draught of that Passion that Antiquity can boast of. But if this Crimi∣nal Passion of Dido and Aeneas, do not degrade the Majesty of an Epic Poem, can the same, or less Criminal, be below that of Tragedy? •…•…his Book is not arraign'd by our Criticks for any Defect in this, and by others allow'd as noble a Piece as any of that Poet, so that Love is not such an Enemy to Noble Thoughts, but that 'tis consistent with them; nor to the Majesty of Expression, as this Fourth Book of Virgil evin∣ces. Besides, we find in the Alcestes of Euripides, an Attempt of Love, and something of it in the

Ajax of Sophocles; nay, 'tis the Foundation and Fable of the Phoedra of Euripides.

Thus we see the Enemy beat from one of their beloved Holds, the Authority and Practice of the Ancients. I shall now therefore, proceed to the very Meaning of the Word Majesty; by which we shall be able to discover how far it will con∣tribute to the Confirmation of our Position.

To let alone the Grammatical Etymology of the Word, and take it in its Poetical Sence, where 'tis Metaphorically us'd, it means some∣thing that is Great and Pompous. And Horace in the fourth Satyre of his First Book, means this Majesty we talk of, when he says,

Primum ego illorum dederim quibus esse Poet as Excerpam Numero: Neque enim concludere versum Dixeris esse satis; ne{que} siquis scribat uti nos Sermoni propriora, putes hunc esse Poetam Ingenium cui sit, cui mens divinior, at{que} os Magna sonaturum, des nominis hujus honorem.

So that Majesty, is nothing else but an Ele∣vation of Thought, and Expression above the Com∣mon and Vulgar Discourse. By this Explanation of it, it becomes intelligible, and we shall see, that the Critics wou'd only amuse us with Words. Now if they can prove by Reason, that the Thoughts and Expressions of Love in its several Effects and Emotions, cannot be ex∣alted above the Vulgar, and Common Discourse, then is Love of too low a Character for Trage∣dy.

But if Love be not incapable of this Ele∣vation, then is our Point gain'd in this Parti∣cular too, which will be evinc'd from the next Proof, drawn from the Nature of the Passion of Love, and its Place in regard to the others.

A Passion is more or less Majestic, (and by Consequence, more or less fit for Tragedy) in regard either of the Rank or Degrees of the Passions, of the Sentiments it inspires, the Effects it causes, the Actions that depend upon it, or in sine, the Influence it has on the Life of Mankind.

If the First, 'tis evident that Love has much the Preheminence above Terror and Pity. Des Cartes reduces all the Passions to Six principal Heads, Admiration, Love, Desire, (or rather Concupiscence, Joy and Grief.) Dr. Moor reduces them to Three Heads only, Admiration, Love and Hate. The first of which being plac'd in the Brain, and being but the Step to the other, he with the School-men reduces them yet to Two, the Concupiscible and the Irascible; which Des Cartes terms in other Words, properly Love and Hate. So that we see Love on all Hands, appears to be a Primitive Passion, out of several Degrees of which, and its Opposite, are the rest compounded and deriv'd. Fear or Terror is deriv'd from Desire, Desire from Love, Com∣miseration is deriv'd from Grief, Grief from Hate; and is compounded of Love and Grief. So that if we respect the Degrees of the Pas∣sions, Love is the more Excellent, as being a Primitive Passion; but Fear and Pity, only un∣der-Species

and Derivatives from it: So that in Nature, Love is more Noble than those. Let us therefore proceed to the Sentiments i•…•… inspires, &c. By Sentiments I mean the Thought•…•… that a Lover derives from the Passion he's pos∣sess'd with. But these are so different, that we must run through the several Conditions of Lovers to make any Judgment of 'em: For those Thoughts that proceed from Anger, Fear, Jen∣lousie, Hope, Despair; nay, and Hate, with the rest of the Passions, are to be look't for in a Lover, according to his several Circumstances. But take him in his most easie and tranquil Sta∣tion, when tendrest Desires are fann'd with sure Success, his Thoughts are more or less elevated, according to the State and Degree of the Per∣son that's affected. Those of a Shepherd might be too low, those of a Beau too Gay and Light, but those of a Hero must retain something of his Character, and must be Noble as the Object that inspires, or the Person that receives the In∣spiration. The Two First indeed may be below the Dignity of Tragedy, but the latter can no more derogate from that, than from the Cha∣racter of the Person. But supposing the most tender and the softest Scenes of a Hero's Love are not Majestic enough for Tragedy; yet must they be Granted as lofty as those of his Griefs; and in the latter, Horace will have the descending from the haughty Air and Maje∣sty of Tragedy, not only allowable, but abso∣lutely necessary: De Arte Poetic•…•…:

Et Tragicus plerum{que} dolet sermone pedestri Telephus & Peleus, cum pauper & exuluter{que} Projicit ampullas, & sesquipedalia verba, Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querelâ, &c.

There is a time therefore when the Hero not only may, but ought to quit his Grandeur, in Horace's Judgment; and that is when he's in Di∣stress and in Exile. And why is it less lawfull to depart from this Majesty (that is, supposing Love requires it) on the Account of the tendrest Hours of Love? This is more natural in my poor Opinion, than in the Case justified by Horace. For to Love, is natural to all Great Souls, and I think, as Noble and Essential to their Chara∣cter, as any that make it up: But it may be doubted whether a Hero, that is, a Man of Invincible Courage, can suffer all his noble and towring Thoughts, all his Elation of Mind, to be so depress'd by Adversity, as to submit to sordid and mean Grief and Sorrow: This may be the Reason why some Critics have reflected on the Oedipus Coloneus of Sophocles, as too low and mean for the Dignity of a Hero furnish'd with Resolution, Courage and Virtue in his o∣ther Play of him. 'Tis true, 'tis the general Frailty of Mankind to be dejected in Misfor∣tunes; but Tragedy, as our Critics contend, shou'd be something better than the Life, some∣thing more Philosophical, affording a Draught of what Man shou'd be: Now 'tis certain that Philosophy will not allow Fortune any Influ∣ence on the Thoughts and Mind, at least so far as to make 'em degenerate.

Thus we see if Love were what our Adver∣saries wou'd have it, yet is it as reasonable to be allow'd, as what their Masters hold necessary in Tragedy. But this is a Concession I am by no means oblig'd to make; for I am not of Opinion that there is any Necessity that the most tender Scenes of Love, shou'd be void of that •…•…evation of Thought and Expression, that constitutes Majesty. or that they shou'd be de∣liver'd in that Sermone pedestri, Horace judges so requisite to the Expression of Grief. This is evident from Virgil's Fourth Book, and the All for Love of Mr. Dryden: Both which abound with noble Thoughts and Language.

But the tender Scenes are the least Advantages Love brings to Tragedy. There are a great many beautifull Occasions offer'd to the Poet by it; from the Effects of it; the other Passions concerned in it, of Descriptions; &c. as we may find in all the best of our Plays, particularly in that admirable Piece of the best of Poets, which I mentioned but now, viz. All for Love. 'Tis the Love of Anthony and Cleopaira, that furnishes the Occasion of all the admirable Scenes of that Play: The same is to be said of the Fourth Book of Virgil's Aeneids.

To conclude this Point, it must be granted that Love in its Nature, must inspire Noble and more August. Thoughts or Sentiments, than Grief or Terror. For the Soul is more dilated, and exerts its noblest Faculties more in Love, than in Sor∣row or Fear; which both contract the Soul and

its Operations. Love pushes a Generous Mind on to Great Actions, to render it self more a∣greeable and taking to the Object of his Desires than others. Whereas Grief and Fear are Op∣posites to all that's Great and Noble. All the Steps to Love are Great, and much a-kin to that Glory Rapin will have the only Object of an Hero's Passion; for Admiration is the first Illu∣strious Step by which a Man mounts to Love: And to acquire Admiration, a Man must perform something extraordinary: For 'tis not the Beau∣ty or Manly Fabrick of the Body, that are sup∣pos'd capable alone of making that Impression on an Heroine, (for such must the Mistress of a Hero be) 'tis his Acts that render him Admira∣ble and Charming in her Eye. And indeed, common Experience will convince us, that a Per∣son of Quality that has Signaliz'd himself by any Noble Deeds, shall gain the Fair much easier than a Son of the Earth unknown to Fame, and yet not born to Reputation. Love therefore, being the Spur to Noble Actions, cannot but inspire Noble Thoughts or Sentiments, and No∣ble Thoughts being agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy, Love in respect of the Sentiments it inspires, cannot derogate from that Majesty; which is the Second Proof I propos'd in De∣fence of the Nobleness of this Passion. From whence I shall pass to the Third and Fourth, which have an immediate Dependance on these, and are pretty well cleared, by what I have produc'd toward the latter end of this Second Particular.

In the next Place, Love is either opposite, or agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy, by its Effects, or Actions that depend upon it. If the Noblest Actions, and the most Tragical Events be agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy, the Effects of Love are. Witness the Performances of the Hero's in some of the best of our Modern Plays; and the Catastrophe's of many that de∣pend on the Effects of Love, as that of the in∣imitable, and so often mention'd All for Love, &c. Besides, 'tis already prov'd, that Love provokes to Noble Actions, in the foregoing Paragraph; and Noble Actions are properly dignify'd for Tragedy; therefore the Actions that depend on Love, are not derogatory to the Majesty of Tragedy. Nor do the other Effects of it afford 〈◊〉〈◊〉 less Noble Subject for the Poet, the many Passions that depend on them, the Jealousies, the Revenge, the Anger, the Contests of Desire, of Hope and Despair, &c. give unexpressible Beauty to any Poem: There is nothing so fine and moving, as the curious touching of the Passions, for those are the Engines that are to work the Effect of Tragedy, in producing Ter∣ror and Compassion. The Distractions and Dis∣asters of those who are Sacrific'd by Love, are of a more general concern than those that are made miserable by Ambition, or other Villainiest and this brings us to the Last Test that is to try whether Love be such an Enemy to the Majesty of Tragedy, viz. The Influence it has on the Life of Mankind. And here I believe Rapin places the

chief Distinction betwixt Majesty, and the Light∣ness of Love. For he supposes the Influence Love has on Mankind, is of that light Nature, that it can produce nothing but soft whining about trifling Kindnesses; whereas Ambition, which is a Love of Glory, furnishes the Poet with Inci∣dents as well as Thoughts, that are Noble and Surprizing; which, with the Augustness of ex∣pression, compose what he understands by Ma∣jesty. But 'tis evident from what has been said, and Experience, that there are as many Noble Actions, as many extraordinary Events, and as many surprizing Thoughts, the Effects of Love of Woman, as of the Love of Glory, both which are the Ingredients that Virgil, and Homer, and the other Great Poets of Antiquity compos'd their Hero's of. Achilles had his Briseis, his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, &c. Pyrrbus his Hermione, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Omphale, Megara, Dei•…•…, &c. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Te•…•…messa, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his He•…•…, H•…•…r his A•…•…che, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his C•…•…a, Dido and L•…•…. And none of the Hero•…•… Rac•…•… wounded the God∣dess of Love but Di•…•…s 〈◊〉〈◊〉 So Heroical a Passion is the Love of Woman, that I must think it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Majestical, as that of Ambition and Glory. The Love of Paris gave Homer the Ground of hi•…•… Poem, viz. the Trojan War, founded on the Rape of Helena, by her Trojan Admirer; which shews that the Influence it has on Mankind, i•…•… very great, when it was so powerfull to prevai•…•… with the Trojans to keep Helena for the Lov•…•… Paris bore her, at the Expence of their Peac•…•…

and Safety. And Dr. Burnes in his Answer to Varillas, observes very truely against that Histo∣rian, that Interest or Ambition, are not the only Motives of the Actions of Mankind, there is much to be attributed to the Passions, and of them, none more Violent and Sovereign, than this of Love. Tragedy t•…•…erefore wou'd not be a per∣fect Image of Humane Life, if it left so considera∣ble a Share of it untouch'd, as Love Commands or Influences.

Having thus prov'd (as I think at least) that Love does not degrade the Majesty of Tragedy, and that it therefore ought not, for that, to be discarded by our Tragic Poets, I shall now prove by the very end and design of this Poem, that 'tis necessary to be preserv'd by them; and by consequence, that the Possession of the Stage the Moderns have given it, is an Improvement of Tragedy and not a Deroga∣tion. The end of Tragedy is, as Rapin more than once assures us, the rectifying the Passions by the Passions themselves, in calming, by their Emotion, the Troubles they wou'd excite in the Heart. From hence 'tis evident, that unless Love betaken in, the most predominant and violent of Passions, Tragedy cannot perfect its Cure, since it must leave the most considerable Distemper (for so are all the Passions that are not regulated by Reason) without any Remedy. But in his 17^th. particular Reflection, where he mentions the •…•…nd of Tragedy, he seems to contradict him∣self, when he first says, Pride and Hardness of

Heart, were the most important Fa•…•…lts (not most important to be cur'd if not general, by so public a Cure) to be regulated, and yet a little after he tells us, that Man is naturally timorous and compassionate: Now he that is naturally compassionate, can never be accus'd of Hard∣ness of Heart, with any Shew of Reason and Justice. But something must be said to reduce the end of Tragedy to their Notions; whereas 'tis indeed the regulating all the most important Passions and Vices of Mankind, which contri∣bute to the Disturbance of his Peace and Hap∣piness, and obstruct his Progress in Vertue. Now it must be granted that Love, as well as other Passions, when it has past the Boun∣daries of Reason, becomes destructive to our Happiness and Vertue, and ought therefore as much to be Purg'd as Fear or Pity. In short, if the chief Aim of Tragedy be the moving of Terror and Compassion, 'tis evident, Love is ex∣tremely conducive to that end, and therefore not ill made use of by our Poets.

The next Objection that is made against Love in our Tragedy, is, that it discovers a Weak∣ness of Genius. For Rapin tells us that it dis∣covers a Weakness of Genius not to be able to sustain an Action on the Theatre, with mo∣ving Terror and Pity only. But he here sup∣poses that Love does not contribute to the same end, as I have made evident already. He must be extremely out of Humor with the Moderns, else he wou'd never make this an Objection a∣gainst

their Strength of Geni•…•…s, which is an Argument of their Judgment; for they evi∣dently saw by the Performances of the Gr•…•…s, that Terror and Pity, could not be mov'd always by the barren Repetition of the same Method to it: And it were to be wish'd that Sophocles and Euripides had been sensible of this, they wou'd then never have fail'd in keeping up the Dignity and Majesty of the Theatre, as they have in some of those few Plays we have of theirs. For we find a great Sterility in some of those Seven Plays of Sophocles, as to the Design and End of Tragedy, as well as Noble Thoughts. What Terror or Pity can P•…•…iloctetes move, or where are the Great and Noble Thoughts to support it? Where is the Majesty of Oedi•…•…s Coloneus, which Rapin himself grants to be low and degenerate? Nor can I discover the mighty Pity and Terror that can be mov'd by the bringing in a Madman on the Stage, and a company of dead Sheep about him. I'm sure 'twou'd make an Audi∣ence here laugh. Nay, I must declare (nor am I troubl'd at what Use the Critics will make of it) I think his Master-piece out-done by Mr. Dryden in his All for Love, both in the Intrigue and Discovery; which are built on an abundant∣ly more probable Foundation, and not one jot less surprizing and fine. Nor will I yield that the Thought and Expression of Sophocles at all excell our English.

The last Objection Rapin conjures up against Love, is, That it is opposite to the Reformation of the

Stage. I can discover no such matter in any or at least in the best of our English Tragedies; and by Corneil's Discourse on his Theod•…•…a, we find the French Theatre more Chast than the Pulpit. Nor can I discover any thing in ours that comes short of that Purity that becomes Ladies of the severest Honour to hear: I cannot say that for the Comedy of our Stage, which as to Tragedy I think needs no Reformation.

To pass therefore from the Objections against Love, to the prejudicial Effects, our Plays owe to it; I find them too in Number•…•… 1. That it hinders those admirable Impressions those of the Ancients made on their Audience. 2. That it cau∣ses the decay of a Tragedy's Reputation, in a Year or two.

The first he builds on a Fallacy, viz. The wonderful Impressions the Perseus and Andro∣meda of Euripides had on the Abderites. This is not to be attributed to the Excellence either of the Poet or the People, who were so gross to think Democritus Mad, when in the most rea∣sonable Employment of his Studies, the Dissecti∣on of Animals: Besides, the true cause of this Success of these Poems, is not to be granted to the Excellence of the Poet, but the Distemper the People of that City were Infected with at that time, being all Poetically Mad. As a Wit∣ness of the truth of this, hear the Account Coelius, lib. 3. Cap. 4. (as I find it Quoted) gives of it.

'Tis reported, that the Abderites in the time of Lysimachus, were Infected with a new and strange kind of Distemper, the progress of which was in this manner: First of all, an extream violent burning Fever seiz'd them, and •…•…ag'd through the whole Town; on the Seventh day, the Blood in great abun∣dance, burst out at their Noses; and some of them were affected with violent Sweatings, after which the Fever ended; but still a very ridiculous Distemper possess'd all their Minds, they all ran Mad after Tragedies, thun∣dring the Iambics about as loud as they could possi∣bly bawl, but what they chiefly Sung, was the Andro∣meda of Euripides, and the Words of Perseus. This strange and uncommon Madness diffus'd it self very far, till the Winter and the severe Cold com∣ing on, put an end to this Evil.

Thus he:—And can there be any thing more unfair, and absurd, than this condemning our Plays, for not making such Impressions on the Audience as the Andromeda of Euripides did on the Abderites, who were Distracted with a Fever, that made them Ravish'd with any Poe∣try; for we find, that it was not the Andromeda of Euripides only, but chiefly That they Reci∣ted.

But were it true, that these Plays of the Anci∣ents made these wondrous Impressions on People in their Wits, I'm sure it is not our Poets fault, that ours are less Efficacious; the Passions can∣not be more finely touch'd than in All •…•…or Love, and several other Plays of Mr. Dryden, Mr. Otway, &c. We must therefore attribute it to

another Cause. The Audience, at least the Ma∣jor part of it, was compos'd of People not ac∣quainted with the dismal Catastrophe's of Prin∣ces, which History now so abundantly furnishes us with, and so the uncommon Miseries of Prin∣ces on their Stage, influenc'd them; as I have seen a Ballad of some Tragical Story, without any Poetry in it, draw Tears from some of the Female Mobb, and make the Male shake their Heads, and go very sorrowfully away. But our Audience that is generally compos'd of the bet∣ter sort, are not so easily mov'd with these Events, they being made familiar to 'em by History and Observation; with these the nice touching of the Passions chiefly move; and I my self, dull as I am, have often experienced those effects in me, for which the Critics boast so much of the power of the Ancient Poets.

The other Effect is Ridiculous, viz. That it causes the decay of a Tradegy's Reputation in a Year or two. I know not indeed how far this may hold good against the French Poets; but I'm very sure 'tis evidently false as to our Plays. Witness all Mr. Drydens; the Orphan, and Venice Preserv'd, of Mr. Otway; Alexande•…•… and Others, of Mr. Lee's; which are still in Esteem, after several Years, and e'ry day en∣creasing their Reputation.

Finally, Since the Motives that are urg'd a•…•… the cause of this Innovation, are either falsl•…•… pretended, or sufficient to Justifie it; since th•…•… Objections are invalid, and the Effects not 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Defective as our Adversaries wou'd have them: We must conclude, that Love is an Improve∣ment of the Old Dramma, and ought therefore to be Continu'd.

I desire you'll excuse the length of my Letter, and hereafter confirm what my Arguments have aim'd at, both by your Practice and better of your own; since you have both more leisure and better Penetration and Judgmeat, to secure so Noble a Cause against the frigid Opposers of it. Woman is a glorious part of the Creation, therefore I wou'd willingly see the Love of them Establish'd on as Noble a Foundation, as the Love of Glory, in the opinions of Men, which in Reality is so far more Excellent and Happy. 'Tis a Cause indeed, that deserves a greater Champion than my self; and, I hope, 'twill find one in you.

To my Honour'd, Ingenious, and Learn∣ed Friend, Dr. Midgely, about SLEEP and its Medicinal Pro∣perty.

ALL your good Nature, your readiness toserve your Friend, as my self have experienc'd; our Learning, Ingenuity, and the other Quali∣•…•…es that justly render you dear to all that know

you, will not atone for one great Fault you are guilty of. That fault indeed is an excess of an uncommon Vertue; yet since an enemy to your own Good, it must be condemn'd by those that love you: Your Modesty I mean; for by this you keep your self too much Unknown. This hinders you from pushing forward in the World, whilst Men of abundantly less Parts, both Acquir'd and Natural, Shoulder one another for Prehemi∣nence. Your Modesty, Doctor, does an Injury to the Public, as well as to your self, in robbing both of the Advantages to be deriv'd to and from each other.

My self not long ago, plaid the Physician with Success, tho I am yet to seek in the cause of it: One complaining of some approaches of an Ague, and Feverish Symptoms; I gave him something that could have none or very little influence in his Cure; a little Chalk scrap'd very fine to take in a Glass of Ale, and bid him Sleep after it, and this perfected the Cure. I am apt to believe the Sleep that he got, (for he slept hartily all that Nightand part of the next Morn∣ing) was the chief Remedy; the grounds of my Opinion I'll here give you.

Sleep, according to Galen, is nothing else but the Quiet or Rest of the Animal Faculties. This Definition is taken from the Effects. Aristotle terms it, the Impotence of the Senses, with a great deal of Reason, which his Interpreters rightly observe, is not a destruction and loss of the S•…•…∣ses, but a difficult and clog'd Sense: For, a Man

that is a Sleep, is not without his Senses, tho they are with some difficulty affected: The de∣fect of Perception in the Senses of a sleeping Man, is attributed to their Impotence and the force of Sleep, by which all the Senses and Animal Acti∣ons are lock'd or bound up. But Galen in the above quoted Definition, does justly term Sleep, the Rest or Repose of the Animal Actions, be∣cause both th•…•… Vital, as the Pulses and the Breath∣ing, and the Natural Actions, as the Concocti•…•… of the Ventricle, which are very well continu'd in Sleep, do not Cease, but are then more justly perform'd. As for Example, The motion or beating of the Heart is thought to be stro•…•… Sleeping than Waking.

But as for the Matter of Sleep, I find it thus in a Modern Author Defin'd, So•…•…us est va•…•…r qui∣dam benig•…•…us. Sanguinis, Spiritus, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Arteria, qui per venas •…•…ugulares, & per arte∣rias carotidas fer•…•…ur ad cerebrum & sensum commu∣•…•…em vincit. Sleep is a certain friendly Vapour of the Blood, the Spirit, and the mor•…•… humid Artery, which is convey'd by the jugular Veins and Carotid Arteries to the Brain, and make the Sensum commu∣•…•…em. This must be confess'd to be some de∣scription or account of Sleep. There are there∣fore three requisites to a gentle and composed Sleep; a temperate Brain, a friendly Moisture, and a quiet Mind; for many tho' they sleep in all ap∣pearance, ye•…•… •…•…re disturb'd in their Minds, as is evident from the Example of Dido, when in Love with Aeneas.

——Ph•…•…nissa nec unquam S•…•…lvitur in so•…•…os oculis, nec pect•…•…re N•…•…ctem Accipit.———

But she was quite Restless, and without Sleep.

As to the efficient Cause of Sleep, I think it the Brain, which is the first Sensory, tho Ari∣stotle makes the Heart so. Whence I believe, proceeded our common Saying when we are very much disposed to Sleep, that our Heart's a Sleep. 'Tis therefore the Refrigeration or Cooling of the Brain that causes Sleep, as th•…•… Calefaction, or Warming of this first Sensific, is the cause of our Awaking, and keeping Awake. The former Author tells us—Somnus fit cu•…•… sese (quamvis non quiescat) relaxat primum Sen•…•…∣cum, quo Spiritus animales redintegr•…•…tur. Hoc au∣ctem 〈◊〉〈◊〉 à blandioribus vaporibus s•…•…blatis Sanguin•…•… ac suavi pit•…•…ta in cerebrum: Quibus refriger•…•…is, & in roscidum 〈◊〉〈◊〉 coactis, nervor•…•… •…•…eatus o•…•…tur & quasi boligantur.

The chief end therefore of Sleep is, the resto∣ring of the animal Spirits; and that the Actions of the whole Animal acquire new Strength, and be∣gin afresh: As 'tis in Ovid.

Q•…•…d c•…•…t alterna requie, durabile non est Hoc reparat vires, fessa{que} 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…vat.

But besides this primary and chief end or effect of Sleep, there are others, as that the Coction of the Ventricle may be the better effected, and the Distempers and their Symptoms mitigated: For Sleep better concocts our Nourishment, miti∣gates the Matter of Distempers, and lessens all Symptoms. This is the reason that Children •…•…e often Cur'd of very great Sicknesses by Sleep •…•…lone.

But not to enter into a Discourse I'm so very 〈◊〉〈◊〉 qualifi'd for as this, I'll pass to a more plea∣•…•…t and easie Task; I mean; the Religious use •…•…he Ancients made of Sleep, and the manner of •…•…ring Distempers of the Priests of Aesculapius or 〈◊〉〈◊〉, heretofore; to whom whilst they slept 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their Chappels, those Medicinal Gods, dis∣•…•…s'd their Remedies for the Distemper'd that •…•…ght their help, and Advice to those who •…•…ght their Counsel. Thus Quartilla in Petro∣〈◊〉〈◊〉 Arbiter tells Encolpius and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that she •…•…d sought Help of the God Priapus in her Sleep, •…•…r her Ag•…•…e, and Encolpius Comforts her in these •…•…ords a little after, when she desir'd they shou'd •…•…ot divulge the Secrets of the Rites of Priapus, •…•…hich they had seen, Nam ne{que} (says he) s•…•…cra •…•…quam 〈◊〉〈◊〉, & si quod praterea aliud •…•…emedium ad Tertianam Deus illi 〈◊〉〈◊〉, •…•…turos nos Divinam providentiam, vel 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…stro. That none of 'em wou'd divulge the •…•…ites of her God, but on the contrary, wou'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the expence of their own hazard endeavour 〈◊〉〈◊〉 assist his divine Providence, if he shou'd re∣veal

any other Remedy for the cure of her Ague. And S•…•…tonius in the Life of V•…•…spasian, says, Orantes ope•…•… valitudine demonstrat•…•… a Sera∣pide per quiet•…•… restituturum oculos, si inspuiss•…•…. This was a common thing in Antiquity to take the Responsa, or Answers of the Gods by Dreams, for Ille incubat Jovi, signifies, He sleeps in the Ca∣pitol, to receive the Oracles or Answers of that God. Thus the Sick us'd to sleep in the Templ•…•… of Aesculapius, to receive Remedies in their Sleep from him. There was a famous and celebrat•…•…d Temple of Aesculapius in Epida•…•…ras, to which the Sick us'd to go on Pilgrimage from several Places. Extraordinary Examples of this kind of Cures one of your Profession (which ha•…•… yielded the World abundance of Learned, Inge∣nious and Witty Men) produces the first Cha•…•… and first Book De arte Gymnastica; I mean, Hieron. Mercurialis. He will have it that Hippo∣crates form'd his Body of Medicine from these Nocturnal Revelations of the Gods; that is from the Tables that were hung up in the Temples, with an account of them. An tota•…•… (says he) Medicina partem, qu•…•… ad sanos & victus ratione•…•… pertinet, ex ta•…•…ellulis, aliis{que} do•…•…riis Aesculapii Templo dicatis Hippocrates con•…•…averit? An. ver•…•… tota•…•… in c•…•…andis Morbis versantem Clinecem voca∣tam, quemadmodum Varro, Strabo, at{que} Plinius, cr•…•…didisse videntur, mihi plane co•…•…rtum non est: Nisi quod fuit •…•…os liberatos Morbis in Templo eju•…•… Dei, quod auxiliatum esset scriberet. Is{que} impri∣•…•…is illis temporibus us{que} ad Antonini Imperatoris at a∣tem,

non modo in Graecia, verum etiam in Italia per∣•…•…uravit. Uti pr•…•… caeteris, ex Ta•…•…ella Marmor•…•… Romae in Aesculapii Templo in Insula Tiberina in∣venta, & us{que} in hunc diem apud Maephaeos conser∣〈◊〉〈◊〉, intelligere licet, in quae Graece haec leguntur. I am not certain (says he) whether Hippocrates Co•…•…pos'd all that part of the Medicinal Art, which relates to the ordering of both Health and Diet, one of the little Consecrated Tablets and other Gifts in the Temple of Aesculapius, or only that part of the Curing of Distempers which is nominated Clinick, as Varro, Strabo and Pliny seem to have thought: But that 'twas a Custom for the Sick to write in the Temple of that God the Remedy that had Cur'd them; which Custom continued to the time of Anto∣ninus, not only in Greece, but also in Italy, as we •…•…ay above all others understand from the Marble Table found in the Templet of Aesculapius in Rome, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Tiberine Island, and preserv'd till this day by the Maphaei, in which this that follows is in Gre•…•….

1. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. In these days he gave an Oracle to one Claudius •…•…at was Blind, that he should come to the Sacred Altar, and kneel down; and then come from the Right side to the Left, and p•…•… five Fingers on the Altar, and lift up his Hand and put it on his own Eyes: And he saw perfectly in the Presence of the

People, who Congratulated him, and Rejoic'd, tha•…•… such great Miracles were perform'd under our Em∣peror Antoninus.

2. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. The God gave an Oracle to Lucius, that had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Pain in his Side, and was despair'd of by all Men•…•… that he should come and take Ashes from the Altar and mix them with Wine, and put them on his Side upon which he Recovered, and returned his Thanks t•…•… the God, and the People Congratulated him.

3. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. Julianus vomiting Blood, being despaired of by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Men, received an Oracle from the God, that he shou'•…•… come and take off from the Altar Pine-Apples, an•…•… eat them for three days with Honey, and he Recover∣ed, and publickly in the Presence of the People gav•…•… Thanks.

4. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. The God gave an Oracle to Valerius Ap•…•…r, Blind Soldier, That he should come and take the Bloo•…•…

of a White Cock, and mixing it with Honey, com∣pose a Medicine for his Eyes, and wear it for three days on them; and he saw, and came and Publickly return'd Thanks to the God.

And I guess (continues Mercurialis) by these verses of Tibullus, that the same us'd to be done in the Temple of Isis.

Nunc dea, nunc succurre mihi jam posse mederi, Picta docet Templis multa Tabella tuis.

You may find more of this kind in Joseph Scal∣iger, in his Indicibus Inscriptionum antiquarum, a Grutero Collectarum. And indeed this seems to be something of the Practice of the Jews, to take Divine Oracles as they slept in the Temple: For thus I find it in the 3d. Chapter of the First Book of Samuel, ver. 3. Samuel slept in the Temple of the Lord, where the Ark of God was. 4. Then the Lord call'd Samuel, and he answered and said, Here I am. We may gather from Geor. Fabri∣cius, that this Custom of sleeping in Temples or Churches, is still continued in Italy; for he says be observ'd at Padua, young Country Fellows and Lasses, to lie in the Church of St. Anthony on a certain Night.

And now I think 'tis time to Wake, having rambl'd as if in a Dream, from one thing to another; from my just Acknowledgments, to my Emperic Exploit; from thence to the Medici∣nal

Power of Sleep, and thence to its Religious Use: So that if I wou'd not have you Sleep too in spight of the Variety, I must conclude here as always, that I am,

SIR,

Your extreamly Obliged Friend and Humble Servant, Char. Gildon.

To LUCINDA.

May the 10.

I Received your's this Morning, which has put me so much out of Humour, that it ought to be no wonder if I write in a Stile different from my former. I told you in mine, the Judgment of the Men of Sense, of your Beloved Athenians. I have the Honour to know some of the greatest Wits, and best Judges of Sense and Learning; who unanimously agree in as contemptible an•…•… Opinion of them, as they express of their Ad∣versaries at all Times.

But after all, Madam, I shall be very little concern'd if you put the worst Construction you can upon my Demeanour in this Business, since 'tis pardonable in me, who, you know own'd my self for a little necessary Dissimulation, till you made me a Convert to universal Since∣rity, which I'll always preserve for the future. But I never pretended my Life exempt from Faults or Follies—No, on the contrary, I con∣fess I have been more guilty of both, than most; and among that Number, I reckon this and some other foolish Trifles that shall be Nameless: But I design to set a stricter Guard on my Words and Actions for the future, and not let any Bye Respect betray me to say or do any thing I may repent of without the Power of retrie∣ving. This Change I partly owe to some In∣conveniences I have drawn on my self by In∣consideration; tho I own to you, even now, that I chiefly owe it to your well-acted Since∣rity. You drew I confess, Madam, the aimable Picture of a fine Woman (I wrong the Noble Idea you gave me of your self, by giving it the Title of Woman) And oh! that the Lovely Piece had charm'd your Heart as it did mine; it won me so entirely, that I hope I shall ne∣ver act contrary any more to the divine Ver∣tue of Sincerity; from which, Madam, I must tell you, with a great deal of Distraction, that you extreamly, deviate, who could in your last assure me, that you made no Enquiry about me, when to my certain Knowledge, you could not

know me to be the Author of that Book but by a very nice Enquiry. Woman indeed, was so well known to me, that 'twas my Fault to be so monstrously impos'd on, as to believe there could be any one of the Sex qualified with a Vertue so opposite to a Woman's Nature as Sin∣cerity. That indeed, was the golden Work, the Chymistry of my Conversation has been so long in Chase of; and oh! you made me fond∣ly believe I'd found the mighty Treasure in you because you glitter'd: But alas! the gol∣den Fantom vanish'd like those deluding Hopes, and I find a Woman of Wit and Sense exalted with Sincerity, is as meer a Fancy as the Philoso∣pher's Stone. That was the Beauty that chain'd my Soul to Mirtilla, and made me value her a∣bove all Sublunary Goods; that made me sigh for the Enjoyment of her Conversation; but now the gay vision'•…•… past, and you have wak'd me to find you a very, very Woman.

I have been too tedious on this Paragraph of your Letter to give a precise Answer to the rest, I shall reserve that till another Time, and only now tell you, First, That you do me but Ju∣stice to think no worse of me for the Declara∣tion of a Truth, you desired to know, with all the Sincerity in Nature; for Madam, I must always own 'twas such a Vencration I had for you, that I cou'd not but be free and sincere with you. Next, That Liberty like Religion is a Word of a double Meaning, and •…•…qually perni∣c•…•…ous to Human Kind. Mistake me not, Madam,

I mean as to the villainous Use that has always been made of both; not as to true and real Reli∣gion and Liberty, which I'm for as much as any, and am so good a Patriot, that I'd rather be tortur'd an Age for the least good of my Coun∣try, than do the least Action against the r•…•…l Interest of it. Lastly, That tho it wou'd yet be extreamly grateful to be admitted to your Conversation, yet since you obstinately persist to have it so, I must submit to your Conditions, but I desire you wou'd put me to as little Ex∣pence of Patience as you can, because I still ear∣nestly desire to obtain what I have with such Ardor requested, that is, the Conversation of Mirtilla, in Hopes to make you by my real Sincerity my Convert, as your pretended Sincerity made me your's; which wou'd be an extraordinary Happiness to

Madam,

Your Humble Servant, and Sincere Friend, Lycides.

A Short View of Old Rome, in a Letter to URANIA.

NEver wonder at Ovid's Trouble for being Banish'd from Old Rome, since we find that St. Augustine made it One of his Three Wishes, to have seen it in all its Glory; as it was when Ovid liv'd. I'll give you but an im∣perfect View of it, as I can collect it from Pliny, and you'll confess it raises in you a most Mag∣nificent Idea; what must then the Noble Remains that were in St. Austin's Time give him?

I will begin with the Grand Ci•…•…co built by Julius C•…•…sar, a Work not of Ages, but of a few Years (for he Reign'd but five, reckoning from his first coming to Rome after his passing the Rubi∣con.) It was Three Furlongs in Length, and one in Breadth; surrounded with Magnificent Buil∣dings, able to contain two Hundred and Sixty Thousand Spectators. The Palace of Paulus, all adorned with Phrygian Columns. The Tem∣ple of Peace built by Vespasian with all the Beauty, Art, and Expence could bestow. The Pan∣theon built by Agrippa, to Jove the Avenger, when Valerius Ostiensis a famous Architect, had cove∣red that Theatre in which Libo exhibited Shews and Plays to the People of Rome. Can we ad∣mire the Expences of the barbarous Kings, in the raising the Pyramids, when the very Ground

for the Building the Forum cost C•…•…sar the Di∣ctator in those Days, above Ten Thousand Sestertii; and if the Expence and dearness of things be of any Force. Publius Clodius who was killed by Milo, lived in a House that cost 1484 Sestertii, which seems to me to fall but little short of the Extragance of Kings in their Palaces; but in those Days the Romans were Admirers of any great Works however less beautiful, as the Vastness of the Ramparts of the Capitol, with its prodigious Foundations. I cannot omit the very subterraneal Magnifi∣cence of this •…•…ity, even in the wondrous' Con∣veyances of the Common-Shoars, so Spacious, that one might have Sail'd under a Pendulous City, through Rocks, which have been Penetra∣ted to let in seven Civulets, which flow'd in with a rapid Course like a Torrent, to carry away all before them; which being increas'd and agi∣tated by the Rains from above, beat and dasht against the sides with great Vehemency: Some∣times the River Tyber ran back into these Chan∣nels; where tho' the several Streams at their meeting fought and made a great deal of do, yet the firmness of the Pile and Buildings, resi∣sted its unruly Force. These admirable Arches out braved Ages, Earthquakes and Ruins, from the time of Tarquinius Priscus, to the Destruction of Rome; for that King it was that Built them; who when he undertook to perform a Work of that difficulty both for Length and Danger, by the Hands of the Roman People, put to Death all

those that fled from the Fatigue of the Under∣taking; for the pursuance and perfecting of which, he made use of a Remedy unheard of before or after; which was, That all the Bodies of the Citizens that were executed on this account, shou'd some be fix'd on Crosses and expos'd to the view of the People, and others in their Pre∣sence given for Food to the Wild Beasts and Ravenous Birds; which produc'd this effect, that they that beheld 'em, struck with a shame to be daunted at any Undertaking, with a bold Zeal for the Honour of the Roman Name, which had often preserv'd them at the lowest ebb of For∣tune in Battles, push'd on the Work with all the fervour imaginable; which the King observing, took hold of the opportunity to enlarge his Im∣positions upon them, making them extend those subterraneal Passages to that bigness and height, that a Cart very much loaden with Hay might easily pass through them. But all I have alrea∣dy said, is inconsiderable, if we compare it to one Miracle, which is this, When Marcus Le∣pidus and Quintus Catulus were Consuls, there was no Nobler Structure in Rome than the House of Lepidus himself; but within Thirty five Years after, that was not the hundredth part as big as innumerable Palaces that were then Raz'd. Marcus Scaurus, when he was Aidile, with his private Wealth and Abilities perform'd a Work beyond all that ever•…•… was made by any before, design'd not for time, but Eternity; and this was a The∣atre, in which were a tripple order of Scenes

to the height of Three hundred and sixty Co∣lumns, the lower part was of Marble, the middle of Glass (strange kind of Luxury!) and the uppermost were adorn'd with Golden Tablets, the Brass Statues betwixt these Pillar•…•…, were in in number Three thousand; and the Pitt it self was capable of holding Fourscore thousand Spectators. To this I may add a greater Prodigy, effected by Caius Curto, who follow'd the part of Julius Caesar in the Civil War; for when at the Funeral of his Father he saw he cou'd not surpass Scaurus in Pomp, Wealth, Beauty, and Nobleness of the Structure, Magnificence of the Furniture and Decorations, resolved to out-do him in Ingenuity: Therefore he caus'd two most spacious Theatres of Wood to be made near to one another, and hung them on a Versatile Bal∣lance or Hinge; so in the Morning when the Plays were perform'd, they were Back to Back, (as I may say) but in the Evening after all the People were in them, they were whirl'd about on their Hinges, the Scenes of both descending as they met together, and Compos'd in a Mo∣ment an Amphitheatre, in which immediately were presented the Fights of the Gladiators. What can we most admire in this, the Invention; or the Inventor? The Artificer, or Designer? Him that durst imagin such a bold Effort, or him that could reduce it to Practice? But that which seems most strange to me, is, that the Peo∣ple should be so mad to venture themselves in so ticklish and uncertain a Seat. Behold, (says Pliny)

This is that People that have Subjugated the whol•…•… Earth, which has stifl'd Kingdoms and Nations, and gives Laws to far Countries, a certain Part and Portion of the Immortal Gods, compared to the rest of Mankind: Behold them I say, swinging in a pon∣derous Machine, and clapping and loudly applauding to their own Danger. Behold all the Roman People aboard two Vessels as it were, which were only sepa∣rated from Destruction by two Hinges that supported them, gazing at the Combates of the Gladiators, with Pleasure, tho they were so near Perishing them∣selves if the Machine fail'd. What might not he have perswaded the Roman People to, who cou'd so easily prevail with them to venture into a hanging Theatre, as if he intended to Sacrifice the whole Nation, at the Funerals of his Father, or at least bid fair for it. Had Caligula pre∣pared such an Engine, he need not have been at the expence of so fruitless a Wish, as that all the Romans had but one Neck, that at one Blow he might Dispatch 'em. But after the Hinges were so worn by Use that they wou'd no longer turn, he vary'd it and left it in the form of an Amphitheatre. After this, what need I tell you of the Golden Palaces of Nero and Caius, or the Aquaducts of the King Quintus Martius, or those Additions which Agrippa made to them when he was Aedile, who besides the Reparations of the Old, made Seven Hundred Lakes, and an Hundred and Five Fountains. Built a Hundred and Thirty Mag∣nificent Hostels, and Adorn'd these Buildings with Three Hundred Statues of Brass and Marble

and Four Hundred Marble Pillars, and all this in the space of One Year. And for the eternal Fame of his Aedileship, he gave Shews to the People for near Threescore Days, besides an Hundred and Seventy Bagnio's, as a free Gift; which Places were afterward increased in Rom•…•…, to an infinite Number. But the Aquaeducts that were begun by Julius Casar, and finish'd by Claudius, far surpass'd the former. But if we shou'd nearly consider the abundance of Water that was us'd in public, in Baths, Fish-Ponds, Houses, Conduits and Gardens, in the Suburbs, and Villa's as well as City, the Arches that were built to convey it, the Mountains that were cut through, the Valleys that were level'd, we must grant that there cou'd be nothing more Admi∣rable in the whole World. Next let me pass to the Rareties of Art, as the Statues and Obelisc's which were brought to Rome from abroad: First the Thebane Obelisc, was made and erected by the Labour of Twenty Thousand Men: The King himself when it was set up, fearing that the Machines wou'd not be of sufficient Strength to support the vastness of the Weight, without an extraordinary Caution of the Workmen, to make them take the more care in erecting it, caus'd his Son to be fastn'd to the very top of it, that their Endeavours for his Safety, shou'd conduce to the happy placing the Stone. The Prodigious Wonders of this Work made Cambyses when he took this City of Thebes, and came almost to the Pedestal of this Obelisc with Fire and Sword,

to command the Flames to be extinguish'd, he being struck with Astonishment at so awfull a Pile, who had no Compassion for the City its self. In Alexandria, P•…•…olomaeus Philadelphus set up one of Eighty Cubits, which King Nect•…•…is had caus'd to be hewn out of a Rock; but it prov'd much a greater Difficulty to carry it to its Place and erect it. Some say 'twas carried a Ship∣board by the Famous Architect Satyrus. Others, that a Channel was cut from beyond the place where the Obelisc lay, under it, to the River Nilus; and then Two very broad Vessels joyn'd together, and so deeply laden, that they might when they came up the Channel, go under the Obelisc, (it reaching like a Bridge, from one side of this Cut to the other) And being come exactly under it, they unloading them, by de∣grees the Vessels rose out of the Water, and so lifted up the Obelisc from the Ground, and thus bore it down into the Nile. Out of this same Mountain there is a Tradition, that Six were cut of the same Magnitude, and that the Master Work-man had Fifty Talents given him for a Reward. But this Obelisc was set up in Ar∣sinoe by the forementioned King, in Honour of his Wife Arsinoe, who was also his Sister; and from thence Maximus when he was Prefect in Egypt, Transported it, tho such a vast and unwieldy Cargo for a Ship; and plac'd it in the Forum, having cut off the Top of it, designing to put one of Gold in its Room, which afterwards not∣withstanding he neglected. There are Two

more at Alexandria, in the Portico's of the Tem∣ple of Caesar Forty Two Cubits high, which King Mesphees made. The chief Difficulty was to Transport them cross the Sea to Rome, in Ships of the First Rate. Nor must I omit that Obelisc which was plac'd in the Grand Circo by Augustus, which was made by King Semnesertes, in whose Reign Pythagoras was in Egypt: It was One Hundred Twenty Five Foot, and Three Quarters high, besides the Basis of the same Stone. But that which was in the Field of Mars, was made by Sesostris: Both contain In∣scriptions of the Egyptians Interpretations of Na∣tural things, by their Philosophy. This last Augustus apply'd to a wonderfull Use, turning it to the Gnome of a Dial, receiving the Shadow of the Sun, and by it distinguish'd the Length of the Days, Nights and Hours, on the Pavement, which he had made to the Proportion of the Obelisc, and divided with Lines and Marks of inlaid Brass, on which the Shadow decreas'd and increas'd by degrees, and so artificially de∣noted the Motions of time. A thing says Pliny, in my Opinion, worthy the Knowledge of Po∣sterity. There was another Obelisc in the Va∣tican Circo of Caius and Nero: And this alone a∣mongst them all, wat broken in the making. The Son of Sesostris made this, as well as another of an Hundred Cubits in height, and Consecra∣ted to the Sun by the Order of the Oracle for the Restoration of his Sight, after he had been Blind. There was a Statue of Hercules in the

Beast-Market, which was for nothing so re∣markable, as its Antiquity and Title; for 'tis said to be Consecrated by Evander to him: And it obtain'd the Name of Triumphal, from be∣ing Habited in Triumphal Garments, as often as there is any Triumph. The Statue of Janus with his Double Face, must not be forgot, consecrated to him by King Numa, which was Ador'd and Sacrific'd to, both for War and Peace; his Fin∣gers being so contriv'd, that they denoted in Three Hundred Sixty Five Days the Year and Age. Mum•…•…ius having Conquer'd Achaia, re∣plenish'd the City with Statues: The Luculli too, brought not a few into it. Before the Burning of the Capitol by the Faction of Vitellius, there was in the Fane of Juno, a Dog carv'd in Brass licking of his Wounds, which was of such a noble Boldness, that the Value of it was be∣yond Purchase; and therefore Consecrated to the Goddess. In the Capitol was a Statue of A∣pollo, of that prodigious Height, that it was called a Colossus; and this was brought from Apollonia, a City in Pontus, by Marcus Lucullus: It was Thirty Cubits high, and cost One Hundred and Twenty Talents. Like this is that Colossus of Jupiter, Consecrated by Claudius Caesar. Besides, these in Rome, were an Hundred other Colossuses of a lesser Magnitude.

To say nothing of the admirable Pictures that Pliny mentions, all far beyond Raphael, An∣gelo, Titian, and our Modern Artists, we may in short, Reflect, That Rome must indeed be a

Divine Sight, whence all the Noblest pieces of Art that the Conquer'd World afforded, were Tran∣sported by the Conquerors to Rome, to contri∣bute to its Majesty and Glory. Add to this the Politeness of the People Ovid left, and the Bru∣tality of those he went to; and we may well cease to admire at his Impatience, and Flattery of his Persecutor Augustus, for a Return. But you may see a more perfect Draught of this City in Fabricius his Collation of Old and New Rome. I am,

Madam,

Your Friend and Humble Servant, Viridomar.

To the Charming and Ingenious URANIA.

I'll no more accuse my Fortune, Urania, since she has given me so generous an Antidote against all her Venomous Influence, as your Friendship, that furnishes me with a very satisfactory Retreat from all the violent Onsets of my ill Stars, where I can unload my Soul, and communicate all my Complaints. If I meet with Villai•…•…ies and Ingra∣titude,

the common Offspring of Trust and ge∣nerous Offices; I'm sensibly pleas'd, that I can with assurance of Pity, tell my Charming Friend my Pain. This is the occasion of this Letter; for, tho I have no Villainy to complain of at this time, having had no Trust Betray'd; nor any Ingratitude to Resent, because I have not been in a Capacity of Obliging the Person I address'd to; yet have I still abundant reason to Sigh for the continual ill Luck that attends my Endeavours.

I know Urania, you have often told me, that 'tis a very false Measure to judge of others by my own Inclinations; and your Advice, I must grant, carries a great deal of Reason; for whe∣ther my Inclinations are just or unjust, I'm ten to one in the wrong, when I judge of another by them; since Mankind differ not only in their Sen∣timents of the same thing, by the different Appre∣•…•…ensions each Man Naturally has; but the very Circumstances and state of our Affairs, give a various turn to our Sentiments; so that we differ not only from one another, but even from our Selves, as our Fortune alters our Condition. But when I was mistaken in Pollio, I follow'd a more common and receiv'd tho not less fallacious Guide, than the former, that is, Report. Pollio has the Reput•…•…tion of a Generous Man, and may be so per∣haps to others; but I'm sure he does not distin∣guish betwixt those who are and are not fit Ob∣jects for his Generosity. A pleasant Companion diverts and seasons our Hours of Conversation, and permits not our Judgment to weigh the Me∣rits

of the Person that affords us so agreeable an Entertainment. And this perhaps has misled Pollio, who has met with Ingratitude enough from some of that Character, whom he has high∣ly Oblig'd; for perhaps, even I could almost grant were not unpleasant, if not witty Com∣pany. But Alas! one of Pollio's Experience shou'd know, that Men of that Faculty, have seldom any just Notion of things, at least of Uertuae and Honour: They are their own Gods, and Sacrifice all to themselves; their very loosest and gayest Hours, that one wou'd think free from Design, are like the Miser's Presents to a young heir Apparent, only to draw some Advantage to themselves in Vanity or Interest. And I must say, I never knew one of these Witty Compani∣ons that ever abounded much with Sincerity. Not that I wou'd extend this Observation be∣yond all Exceptions: But I'm sure Prudence shou'd chuse where there's less probability of Deceit. On the contrary I have courted his Friendship as well as Generosity; That with a real Desire, and This on no very great Matter, but have scarce met with a Return answerable to my Expectation. In short, Urania, 'twou'd be te∣dious to tell you all my thoughts of Pollio now; what they were when I wrote the following Ver∣ses, these will let you see; the effect they had, I shall conclude this Letter with.

To POLLIO. The COMPLAINT.

I.

'TIs now dead Night, and hush'd is e'ery thing; The busie Cit, and the laborious Clown; The cringing Parasite, and haughty Gown; The Plotting Statesman too, And with his Gilded Cares the King, Are all at sweet Repose. What when awake they all refuse; And Sleep, Death's Image, seem'd as Death will do, To've equall'd the poor Cottage and the Crown, No Wretch but me so much Unblest As not to be at Rest; Of Hope forsaken, and by Fate Opprest; Despair with all its wild Anxieties, Drives Quiet from my Mind, and Slumbers from (my Eyes.

II.

Why do I Live? Why hug my boundless Woe, When Friendly Death sets wide the Gate, That leads to a more happy State? For not at all to be, Is better than the ills of Life to know, When Priestly Barbarism does reign Almost in e'ry Heart;

And scarce one good Samaritan is found, That with one sordid Ragg will part, To Cloath the shuddring Wretch, or bind his gaping Why sooth I then my present Pain, (Wound. With the faint Shadow of a fansy'd Ease, Rather than Cure the Disease, With Balmy Death, its sure and lasting Remedy?

III.

When th'ills of Life too great and num'rous grow, They are the Summoners of Fate: And 'tis too foolish a Debate (Punish'd by present Pain) To argue if we shou'd Obey or no. In tort'ring Dreams I've often found My self with threatning Dangers compass'd round.; O'er Hills I flie, o'er Vales, o'er Shades in vain, The fansy'd Terror meets me when I light, Or close behind Pursues my Imaginary Flight: But when my Lab'ring Mind From near Destruction, can no Refuge find, I Wake, and all the racking Scene withdraws, The Horrors past, are lost in present Joys.

IV.

So in the gloomy Dream of Life, I see My tatter'd Bark in Fortune's boistrous Sea. To e'ry Wind in vain I shift my Sail, Sinister Faie allows no Prosp'rous:

In vain I strive to reach the distant Shoar, For all around the angry Billows roar, And on each side encrease th' unequal War. Ten thousand Waves, each big with certain Fate, On one poor sinking Bark with fury Beat: My Sails are useless, and my Rudder lost; By clashing Surges to and fro I'm tost; Within no help; no Succour from without, Despair and Ruin hem me round about. Approach then Death, this racking Scene destroy; Ah! Wake this Tempest-beaten wretch to long- (sought Calms and Joy.

V.

(Night! Ha! what bright Dawn thus breaks this dismal What Welcome Beams their friendly force unite, To raise my drooping Soul with their auspicious (Light! Behold the golden Glory spreads apace, The Heavens assume a calmer Face, And all the loud tumultuous Billows cease! The threatning Storm is Over-blown, The scatter'd Clouds now disappear, And the grim Terrors of Despair Are all dispers'd and gone. Whence, Ah! whence these Rays Divine, That with so strong, so kind a Lustre Shine?

VI.

Lo! now the Heavenly Cause draws near; See, see the mighty Goddess Hope appear! Her fluid Robes, which subtle Threads compose

(From the thin Brains of fond Projectors Spun) Her naked Beauties to the Eye disclose; Beauties far brighter than the Mid-day Sun; Fairer than Fancy e'er drew Woman-kind, Tho' the vain fancy of a Love-sick Mind. Her spacious Front, and her inviting Eye, Are fill'd with humble Majesty. False Joys around her smiling Visage Play, To sooth depending Wretches Pain, In spight of damn'd Delay And its long Melancholy Train. Her Head with Lawrel, and with Myrtle's Crown'd; With her left Hand where e'er she goes She thinly strows The Warriour's and the Lover's Wreaths; But Courtiers flat'ring Promises, With liberal Hand she scatters all around.

VII.

Her right Hand boundless Stores does hold Of Liberty, of Happiness, and Gold. Which tho' she seem to promise e'ery one That waits about her Visionary Throne, Yet fast she grasps the wish'd for Treasure, And does in scanty Portions Measure, To Few, and Late, the tardy Pleasure. A Thousand curling Clouds she sits upon, Of Colour various, and of Matter rare, (As Acme Beauteous, subtle as the Air; Soft as the Downy Bosom of that Charming Fair.) Exhal'd from the Wanton Wishes of Mankind, And all the Numerous Vanities of his sickly Mind.

Avarice, Ambition, Love, untasted Bliss, With all the gandy Train of fond Desire, The Bigots future Joy, and States-Man's coming That set the foolish World on Fire, (Happiness, The Pompous Pageant's mighty Frame support. Num'rous and vast is the Resort That throng her wide Imaginary Court. As far as e'er her friendly Beams extend, Rang'd in their differing Stations they attend; All near, or distant, dart a longing Eye On this Lov'd flattering Deity. Beyond the reach of whose enlivening day, Beyond the Influence of one kind Ray, Despair in tatter'd sable Weeds Array'd, Lurks with a gastly Troop within the baneful Shade.

VIII.

Hark! hark! methinks her melting Voice I hear; Her Voice, that's softer far Than happy Lovers Billing Whispers are! Gently methinks the Goddess Chides My causeless fond Despair, While Pollio lives, who never Wretch deny'd That on his bounteous Nature yet rely'd, And spight of the effects of black Ingratitude To damp the gen'rous Flame, Bounty and he are so the same; To imploring Want he must, nay will do Good, Let Galba Laugh, Eat, Drink and Whore, And in that thoughtless Circle spend his Store, And when he's Dead, be never thought on more. So let him die like other Sots and Brutes, Oblivion best a Life like Galba's suits.

But since a more Heroic Fire Does wiser Pollio's Breast Inspire, And moves him to Dispense To drooping Poesie a kind Influence; Let him but cast one Smile on me, By which from Anxious Cares set free, In Verse Immortal l'd convey his Name, To the last Boundaries of Fame, And late Posterity shou'd see him sit Among the Sacred Patrons of Almighty Wit; For of their Patrons, Poets have these Odds, They Poets make, but Poets make them Gods; To Mortal Glory, give Eternal Date, And rescue Merit from destructive Fate.

By this last Stanza, my dear Urania, you find what I then thought of Pollio, but I must tell you, my opinion is much alter'd by his Carriage since. Not because he comply'd not with my Desires, but because he has not dealt like a Gen∣tleman by me. If Oftentation be the Motive of his great Actions, and a present Vain-Glory be the mover of his Liberality, he has a great many of his Rank, that carry a mighty Name in the World; for few have learned this noble Maxim, that Vertue is its own Reward. And yet methinks the present Applause of Fools should not be grate∣ful to a Man of Sense. But if Pollio had not that Nobleness of Spirit to do a private Good, yet methinks he should not submit to do a little thing, as you know some of his Demeano•…•…r to

me was, especially in detaining what was trusted to his Vertue, without doing what was expected from that Trust. But I'll confine you no longer, Urania, to my Complaints, who am

Your faithful Friend, Viridomar.

Of the MOON.

The History of the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, &c. In a Letter to my Learned and Ingenious Friend, Dr. Midgly.

I Have lately been looking over again Bishop Wilkins his World in the Moon, and cannot but agree with him, as I formerly did, that 'tis most reasonable to think that Planet capable of Inhabi∣tants, since we know 'tis a Solid Opacous Body; that the Light it has, is only Borrow'd; and since the Discoveries made by the Telescope of Galileus, shew that 'tis e'ery way qualify'd for an Inhabitable World. But whether the Inhabitants be so much Wiser than us, as Cyrano Bergerai makes'em, I can't tell, neither am I willing to allow them that Ad∣vantage,

since their Planet has such a dependance on our Earth, as to be oblig'd to move round us, as its Centre. I should rather agree with Ari∣osto, that makes it the Lumber House, or Repository of all things that are lost in this Earth of ours, even to the Wits of his Hero Orlando, Bottl'd up in Bottles, like the Virtuoso's Air: But then you will answer, if I allow the Moon the Recep∣tacle of all that is lost on our Earth, that by con∣sequence it must be the Juster, Honester, as well as Wiser Abode, since Honesty and Justice have long been lost here, as well as Wisdo•…•…. 'Tis true, Doctor, if the Inhabitants there are one jot the better for 'em, I must yield the Cause; but I hope our Vertues as well as Wits, are Bot∣tl'd up from their use; else I should wish the Bi∣shop I mention'd but now, had perfected his Discovery, and fix'd a Correspondence betwixt us, for doubtless 'twould yield us abundance of Commodities needful for us, as well as Wit and Honesty.

However 'tis, methinks we have a greater I∣mage of this friendly moving Light of the Hea∣vens, than the Primitive Poetical Philosophers: They made it but a Woman, but we a World, that contains perhaps some Millions of finer Wo∣men than Diana: Tho 'tis probable not all so Chast, if they are not made of a much different Matter from that of our Earthly Ladies. Tho' I can't blame the Ancients for making it a Wo∣man, from its Inconstancy, which is so natural a Folly of the Sex, that it must be thought Chara∣cteristical:

And perhaps the Origin of this Fab•…•…∣lous Lady Moon, might be from some Aegypti•…•… Hieroglyphic of a Woman with a Crescent on her Head, to denote her changable Nature and Af∣fections.

But whence-ever it came, they had Names enough at her Service, above an Hundred in number, too long to insert here. The Poets therefore gave her a Coach too: It was but a Coach and Two; whereas her Brother Phoebus had his Coach and Four. Manilius, lib. 5.

Q•…•…drijugis & Phoebus equis, & Delia bigis.

Ovid gives her a pair of White Horses, tho' others differ, and will have her drawn by a Mule, or young Heifers, or Horses of various Colours.

They made her a Huntress, because assisting at the Birth of her Brother Apollo, made her hate all Men; for she was so Frighted at the Pains her Mother underwent, that she obtain'd of Jupiter (for nothing but a God could secure a Woman's Maidenhead) a perpetual Virginity, as Callimachus tells us. And Cicero in his Natura D•…•…orum, lib. 2. says she was Feign'd to assist at the Birth of her Brother Apollo, tho Born at the same Birth, because she came into the World before him. Jupiter therefore according to the same Callimachus, made her Goddess of Hunting, High-ways and Havens, and bestow'd on her Bow, Arrows and attending Nymphs, as so ma∣ny Maids of Honour. Hence Horace,

M•…•…tium cust•…•…s 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Virgo Qua labor antes vero puellas Ter vocata audis, 〈◊〉〈◊〉; let•…•…o, Diva trisor•…•…is.

Callimachus says, Diana's Chariot is drawn by White Hinds. She often chang'd her Habitation, and had need therefore of some Vehicle, for now she was above in the Heavens, now beneath, among the Infernals. Nor is her Figure more certain than her abode, for as a Friend of mine has it,

Now with a full Orb she the Darkness does Chase; Now like Whores in the Pit, shews but half of her Face.

In Athens, the young Ladies that were so big with Child, that they could not wear their usual Girdle, or Zone, put it off in the Temple of Diana, whence she got the Appellation of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. To her were offered the Zones or Girdles of Women with Child, as the Garlands were to Venus at Marriages. This Goddess also presided over Fishers: And the Poets tell us that they us'd to Sacrifice Bullocks to her; but Horace Sacrifi∣ces a •…•…oar to her, and Ovid a white Hind.

She had a most Magnificent Temple at Ephesus, •…•…amous for its Building, and remarkable for its Destruction; of which Natalis Comes gives us this Account. H•…•…it Diana 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 Templorum, & Augustissimum Ephesinum, &c. The

most Magnificent and Famous of the Temples of Diana was at Ephesus, which was Built by the care and Industry of all Asia, Two hundred and twenty Years under the direction of the Architect Chesi∣phron; it was Four hundred and twenty five Foot in Length, and Two hundred and twenty in Breadth; in •…•…hich were an hundred and twenty seven Columns, erected by as many several Kings; and these Columns or Pillars were wonderful in their Length as well as Beauty, for they were sixty Foot in Heighth; thirty six of which were very Noble, and with incredible Art Carv'd with their several Chapiters answerable to the Magnificence of the Pillars. Besides which, there were an abundance of exquisite Pictures and admirable Images or Statues, correspondent to the Grandeur and Magnificence of the Temple: All which Hero∣stratus an Ephesian, set on Fire and Destroyed, to purchase to himself perpetuity of Name, since he cou'•…•… not effect it by his Vertues or Parts. This Combusti∣on of Diana's Temple happen'd about the I•…•… o•…•… August, on the day that Alexander the Great, King of Macedon was Born, as Plutarch says in the Lif•…•… of that Prince. But the Ephesians made a Law•…•… that none should mention the Name of Herostratu•…•… for the future, under the most severe Penalties, so to de∣prive him of the enjoyment of that which he aimed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the obtaining of by so great a Villainy. Thus fa•…•… Natalis. A Description of the Ruins of this Tem∣ple, and all the Cautions us'd by the Founders o•…•… it against Earthquakes and other Expected Cau∣ses of Ruin, Pliny gives us in his Natural Hi∣story.

Among other Fables of her, the Poets make her in Love with Endy•…•…ion sleeping on Lat•…•…s, a Mountain of Garia, and that she Enjoy'd him ac∣cording to Catullus.

Ut triviam furtim sub Latmia saxa relegens Dulcis •…•…mor gyro devovet aerio.

So weak was the Power of a God to keep her a Maid! Nay, they make her very Fruitful too, for besides Sons by this Amour with 〈◊〉〈◊〉, they give her fifty Daughters.

Where three Ways meet, the Ancients us'd to perform the Rites of Hecate, who is call'd by three several Names, Luna, Artemis and Hecate. About the New of the Moon, the Richer sort us'd to send a Collation to those Places where three ways met, in the Evening, as a Supper for Hecate; but the Poor us'd to devour these No∣cturnal •…•…unkets of this Goddess, and give out, that she her self had eat them, as the Priests and their Tribe in Daniel; tho' indeed these Suppers were but very Parsimonious; so that an ill Sup∣per got the Proverbial Name of a Feast for He∣cate; for the Poetical Divinity taught that the Ghosts wou'd subsist with very little Nourish∣ment. But that Hecate was the same with Luna, •…•…or Diana, is evident from several Places, par∣ticularly from Raphael Regius, in his Comments on the 7^th Book of Ovid's Metam.

And here I think 'tis time to make an end of this Lunary Essay, lest I be thought to take so much pains about her Goddess-ship for the Influ∣ence she has on me. I wou'd not incur the Im∣putation of a Madman for her sake, whatever I might for the sake of some Earthly Cynthia, per∣haps fully as Inconstant; and might deserve a greater variety of Names from her numerous Fol∣lies, than Diana from the several Places of her Worship. But whatever Influence the Ethereal or Terrestrial Cynthia's may have on me, I'm con∣fident, that neither they, nor any other Cause can be Powerful enough to turn me to any thing that should diminish my Value and Esteem for you, or the pleasure I take in being what I shall ever Subscribe my self,

SIR,

Your Obliged and faithful Friend and Humble Servant, Charles Gildon.

An ESSAY at a Vindication of the Love-Verses of Cowley and Wal∣ler, &c. In Answer to the Preface of a Book Intituled, Letters and Uerses Amorous and Gallant.

Directed to Mr. CONGREVE.

AS in my two former Critical Discourses of this Book against Mr. Rymer's Short view of Tragedy, a Zeal for the Honour of my Country in its greatest Ornaments, her Poets, Engag'd me; so here I cannot help chal∣lenging the same Pretence, since I can't suppose them deficient in Love, without derogating from the Justness of their Characters. But I must con∣fess I have not the same hopes of Success in this; for there I had to do with an impotent Opiniator; but here with a Gentleman of a great deal of Wit and fine Sense. There I address'd to Par∣ties already sensible of the Justice of my Cause; here to one who is prepossess'd of the contrary. But on the other hand I have the greater satis∣faction here of being Worsted by one whose Wit can better defend an Error, than I the Truth; and I'm of Opinion, that 'tis a nobler Fate to fall by the Hand of an Hero, than Conquer a Dastard Pretender. And tho' my Prudence might

be call'd in Question by this Attempt, yet my generous Ambition will merit a Magnis tamen excidit Ausis. One thing I must possess you of in my favour, that my unhappy Circumstances allow me not time to use all the Caution I ought, or search all the Reasons might be urg'd in this noble Cause; so that I am not only Viribus, but Opibus impar: However, I hope the Design will gain me the Opinion of a Good English Man, if my Performance shou'd not attain that of a good Critic, which will sufficiently compensate my trouble; for I shou'd be prouder to be thought a Zealot for the Glory as well as Interest of my Country, than the greatest Wit, and most Learn∣ed Arguer.

I shall never deny the Ancients their just Praise of the Invention of Arts and Sciences; but I can∣not without contradicting my own Reason, al∣low them the Perfecters of 'em so far that they must be our uncontroverted Patterns and Stan∣dard: For our Physicians have found the Pre∣scripts of Hippocrates very Defective: And as in Physic, so in Poetry, there must be a regard had to the Clime, Nature, and Customs of the People; for the Habits of the Mind as well as those of the Body, are influenc'd by them; and Love with the other Passions vary in their Ef∣fects as well as Causes, according to each Coun∣try and Age; nay, according to the very Con∣stitution of each Person affected. This makes me hope, that the Ingenious Author of the Let∣ters and Verses Amorous and Gallant, guides him∣self by a fallacious Rule, when he makes the An∣cients the Standard of the Excellence of the Mo∣derns

(or indeed when by exalting those, he wholly deprives these of all Honour) in Love-Uerses. His Charge is reducible to these two Heads, viz. The Occasions and the Performances. He will have it, that the Occasions on which their Poems are written are sought out, and that none meet with 'em but themselves, whilst those of the Ancients are such as happen almost to e'ry Man in Love. Next, That the Verses of the Moderns, are fill'd with Thoughts that are indeed Surprizing and Glittering, but not Tender, Passionate, or Natural for e'ry Man in Love to think. This is the sum of his Charge against 'em; of which in the Order I've plac'd 'em. First, As for the Occasions; I can∣not remember any Subject chosen by either Cowly or Waller, (for we've nothing to do here with Petrarch a Foreigner) that seems to be sought out, or unnatural for a Man in Love to choose; and if some of 'em do not happen to e'ry Man in Love, they are yet on an equal Bottom with the Ancients, many of whose Subjects or Occasi∣ons, are far from happening to all Lovers, as none who can pretend to any knowledge of their Writings can deny. Corinna's Parrot dy'd, and Ovid writes its Funeral Elegy; but sure none will contend that this is an Accident common to all Ladies who have Lovers, and those Poets too. Catullus addresses one Copy of Verses to the very Sparrow of Lesbia, and in another deplores its Death. A great many Lovers may have Mistres∣ses who never take a Voyage during their Amour, and yet Ovid has an Elegy ad Amicam Navigantem; and so may ten thousand true Lo∣vers, especially such as are Poets, never venture on

any other Billows, but the Frown of their Fair ones; and yet Propertius toss'd in another Storm, Writes to Cynthia upon it. And indeed to re∣duce the Subjects or Occasions of Love-Uerses to any particular Standard, is highly Irrational, and must only be the effect of want of Conside∣ration, for the various Circumstances and For∣tunes of the Lovers must diversifie and alter the Occasions of writing to their Mistresses: So that there is no Occasion that is General, and that can reach all Men in Love, but the Cruelty of their Mistresses on their first Ad∣dresses, (that is, their not immediate Compliance) for Jealousie is not Universal, or at least to ex∣tend to the Beating of her a Man Loves; yet Ovid Writes ad Amicam quam verberaverat. I must confess, I can't see the least Reason why the Name and Gloves of a Mistress, with the Place of her Birth, are not as just Occasions to Write on as the Ring given to a Mistress, or her Parrot or Sparrow; or a great many more I might enu∣merate out of the Ancients. A true Lover thinks e'ry thing that belongs to her he Loves, worthy his Thoughts; and the more our Modern Poets extend their Reflections beyond the Ancients in this, so much the greater Lovers they shew them∣selves. But the Place of one's Mistress's Birth is not only worthy a Lover's Thoughts, but even an Universal Occasion, since no Lover but must meet with that Occurrence in whatever fair one he adores, among all the beauteous Daughters of Eve.

By what has been said, Sir, 'tis evident that our Moderns are not inferiour to the Ancients,

in their Judgment in chusing Occasions on which they write to their Mistresses: Or, That this In∣genious Gentleman has either through Want of Advertence, or out of Design expressed himself ambiguously, or at least not with that Clearness that is requisite to a conclusive Argument; which cannot be excused when the Honour and Merit of such great Men as Cowley and Waller is concerned; nay, the Honour of our Coun∣try.

I come now to the Second Accusation, which is, that the Moderns fill their Verses with Thoughts surprising and glittering, but not natural for e'ry Man in Love to think. This lies under the same Fault as the other does, of being too general to be of any Force, it either condemns all that the Moderns have wrote, it casts off e'ry Thought in their Love-Verses as not tender and passio∣nate, or does nothing at all, for it instances no particular. I'm confident the ingenious Gen∣tleman will have so much Candor, as to con∣fess that there are a great many very tender and soft Thoughts, and passionate Expressions in Cowley's Mistress, as in this one, that now oc∣currs to my Mind: Then like some wealthy Island thou shalt lie, &c. but if there be some, nay, a great many tender, soft, and passionate thoughts in our Moderns, then is this general charge not at all conclusive against 'em. Besides, Thoughts na∣tural to a Man in Love, is an obscure Expressi∣on, it conveys no clear Idea of any thing to the Mind; or, what is fully as erroneous, it seems to level the Thoughts of all Mankind, but it cannot be doubted, but that in the very same

Circumstances the Thoughts of different Men will be various, and more or less Excellent and Noble, as the Wit, Judgment, Fancy, and the other Qualities of the Mind of the Person af∣fected, are more or less Excellent and perfect: And I am confident your ingenious Friend (whom I honour for his Wit, tho I differ from his Opi∣nion) will allow me, That one of Mr. Cowley's Genius wou'd no more have the Thoughts of a Fop, a Beau, a Tinker, a Shepherd, or any other ignorant and unelevated Mechanic, in Love, than out of it. Again, Thoughts surprizing, and glittering without particular Instances of 'em, as they prove nothing, so can they not be well an∣swer'd, for an Instance would have made us ap∣prehend what he takes for surprizing and glitter∣ing; but without that, or any Definition, we wander in the dark, and I can at best but only ghess at his meaning. If by Thoughts surprizing, and glittering he means extraordinary and uncom∣mon, I'm apt to think he will allow them very natural to Mr. Cowley or Mr. Waller in any Cir∣cumstance. A Man that is us'd to a good Habit of thinking, cannot be without extraordinary Thoughts, on what concerns him so near as the Heart of his Mistress. Lastly, As to far-fetch'd Similes, 'tis an Expression very obscure and ambi∣guous; and I must acknowledge my self wholly to seek in his Meaning, if a Simile be just, and hold an exact Analogy to the thing 'tis applied to, and of the thing 'tis designed to heighten, I presume it cannot come into the Number of the far-fetch'd, and when-ever the Gentleman will please to instance in Particulars in either Cowley

or Waller, I engage to fellow them with those that are full as faulty, even according to his own Definition, let that be what it will, (for I sup∣pose it can't be much amiss from so accurate a Pen.) And till then I may supersede any particu∣lar Defence in this. Besides, 'tis not to be sup∣posed, that the Verses written by Lovers are the Extempore Result of a sudden Gust of Passion, like the Inspirations of the Delphic Prophetess; for I'm confident he'll agree with me that the Excuse of Love will not free a Poet, that lets them pass so from the Censure of Boileau

Un so•…•… en ecrivant, fait tout avec plaisir I'll na point en ses vers l'ambarras de Choisir.

A Poetizing Lover, must be allow'd not to be ab∣solutely out of his Wits, and that 'tis possible for him to study, and consider what he says in so solemn a Manner to his Mistress.

After this bold Assertion without Proof, he advances to examine which are in the right, the Ancients or the Moderns; the Rule of our Judg∣ment in this, he justly makes the End the Poet aims at, viz. The obtaining the Love of his Mi∣stress, tho I cannot see why he should suppose that contrary to, or inconsistent with getting Fame and Admiration, since Admiration is a certain Step to Love. When I read Mr. Dryden's Works, I cannot help Loving him. If I should not love and respect him and any other Poet that thinks well, and expresses his Thoughts nobly, I should sin against my Reason. Ovid urges his Fame and Reputation as a Motive for his Mi∣stress's Love, and if that can move a Man of Sense, why should we think the Effect wou'd

not be the same on a Woman of Sense, and Ge∣nerosity? And indeed, in e'ry one but an abso∣lute dull, insipid Fool, which no Lover can think his Mistress.

The End of Love-Verses being the gaining the fair ones Heart, he proceeds to the best means of obtaining that End, viz. The convin∣cing her that you love her. I must deny this As∣sertion too, for tho Love in the Severity of Ju∣stice require Love; yet is that an Argument that ought not always to prevail, since 'tis a Plea that's common to a great many, for so the fair one ought to surrender to 'em all; a Liberty no Lover would willingly allow his Mistriss on any Consideration whatever. But how often does Experience tell us, that this best Way fails? Or indeed, how seldom does it hit? Admiration is the only just, and unquestioneable Parent of Love; for the Senses or the Mind must be first won with some Perfection, either real or imaginary. What∣ever therefore can ravish Fame from the envious censorious World, may justly be suppos'd able to give Admiration to a Mistress. Nor is this in∣consistent with the true and lively Representation of the Pains, and Thoughts attending the Passion of Love; for sure the Advantage of Art in Poems cannot destroy the End which is not to be ob∣tain'd in Painting without it, viz. a lively Repre∣sentation of Nature. Similes, •…•…ne Thoughts, and shining Points, if they be just, and good, must cer∣tainly give a greater Idea of any Pain, than a bare and unpolished Rhime, without Beauty or Grace. This gives us a weak, a faint, an unmo∣ving Vi•…•…w of the Pain; That sets it close to us,

magnifies and enlarges it: This gives it you as the reverse end of a Prospective Glass does Objects, That as the right end of it; so that if a Repre∣sentation of our Pain be the Path to Success, Art will be no ill Help and guide in it; unless we'll suppose that our Mistress would be more sensibly touched with a Grubstreet Ballad, than a Copy of Verses by a Cowley or a Waller. But indeed, the Pain a Lover feels cannot be truely, and with Life represented without Similes, as is evident from the very Nature of the Mind, when in •…•…ain: For 'tis an universal Measure of our Judgment of things to compare them with something else; and the Mind in expressing its Pains endeavours to make it known in its full Greatness: to give therefore the greater Image of it, it generally seeks out something by a Comparison of which it hopes to obtain that End; Comparison being the only Distinction of Degrees of things. This makes it narrowly in these Circumstances, regard and observe that Train of Ideas that continually pass before it, to call out such as are most proper for its pur∣pose: For 'tis evident, (as Mr. Lock remarks) to any one that will but observe what passes in his own Mind, that there is a Train of Ideas constantly suc∣ceeding one another in his Understanding, as long as he's awake. An Assertion therefore of an In∣genious Friend of mine, to the Prejudice of the Moderns, against Similes in the Expression of the Passions of Love and Grief, is contrary to the very Nature of the Mind. For let any Man endeavour to retain any particular Idea firmly and without Alteration, he will sind it not in his Power to do it any considerable time,

such a necessary Succession and Variation of Ideas (the Origin of Similes) is there in the human Mind. But because 'tis said that 'tis the nature of Grief to confine the Soul, straiten the Imagination, and extremely lessen the Number of its Objects, I shall only oppose the Assertion of this Gentleman (whom I have al∣ways allow'd a Man of great Wit and Sense) with an Observation of Mr. Le Clerk, (whom I'm sure no Man that knows his Works, will deny to be one of the best Philosophers of the Age) in the 6th. Chapter of his Ontologie and the 4th. Paragraph, he has to this purpose—

This be∣ing so, we observe that the time seems short to those who spend it in Mirth, or any Em∣ployment they perform with Pleasure and De∣sire; but on the contrary, Tedious and Irk∣some to the Unfortunate, and those that are in Pain, or to those that are against their Wills, oblig'd to some troublesome Business. For we keep the Idea that is Gratefull and Pleasant to us, as long without Variation as we are able, and thus by the viewing of the fewer Ideas, the time we spend in Pleasure and Content, seems the shorter; whilst on the contrary, our Minds endeavour to drive away a troublesome Idea, and strive to substitute some others in its room; Turning, Winding, Changing, Adding and Diminishing it, as the uncasie inquietude Prompts. Thus the time seems longer than it wou'd do else, by that vast and numerous Train of Ideas, which, as I may say, shew themselves en passant to the Mind, with an incredible Rapidity and Swift∣ness.

From this just and rational Observation

of Mr. Le Clerk 'tis evident, That Similes are not so unnatural in expression of Grief or Pain, as some Ingenious Gentlemen contend: For the Mind (especially that which is us'd to an Expres∣sion of its self in Allegory and Similes) will easily in this Number of Ideas, meet with some that will answer the End, the Mind is born to with so much Impatience and Desire: For 'tis here also evident, That Grief multiplies nor lessens the Number of the Objects of the Mind.

From what has been said 'twill appear, That Similes cannot be an unnatural Expression of this Passion, or any Effects of it. I shall therefore proceed to those few particular Instances the Au∣thor of the Preface gives, by which he draws a short Parallel betwixt the Ancients and the Mo∣derns. I am pleas'd, says he, with Tibullus, when he says, he cou'd live in a Desart with his Mistress, where never any Humane Foot-steps appear'd, because I doubt not but he really thinks what he says: But I confess, I can hardly forbear Laughing, when Pe∣trarch tells us he cou'd live without any other Sust•…•…∣nance than his Mistresses Looks. I confess, I must ev'n here dissent from him too; for if you go to the Rigor or Severity of the Reason of both Expressions, they are equally impossible, and in Impossibilities as well as Infinites, there are no Degrees. For I can see no greater Probability of Living in a Desart where there were no Hu∣mane Foot-steps, than on the Looks of a Mistress only; unless like 〈◊〉〈◊〉, he wou'd feed on the Leaves of the Trees, and Grass of the Ground if there were any; which is not very kind to hope his Mistress wou'd comply with. But sup∣posing

it impossible, is there any Necessity of a Lovers saying nothing that exceeds the Bounds of Possibility? especially in Poetry, where Hy∣perbole's are justifiable almost to Extravagance. That certainly wou'd be most unnatural of all, for the Thoughts of a Man really in Love, are naturally Extravagant ev'n to Impossibilities; tho poss•…•… quia posse videntur. The very Definition of this Passion in Ethics, shews it violent and ex∣orbitant. But we may in favour of Petrarch and Mr. Cowley, (who make use of the same Thought) say that they mean the Dyet of their Love, is a Look of their Mistress.

I must confess, I'm extremely surpriz'd to find your Ingenious Friend an Advocate for that which wou'd make all the Sir Courtly's Compositions of the Nation, the Standard of good Verses; when he himself is really so well qualify'd to write like Cowley and Waller, and has by his own Practice in those Verses that are Publish'd, better confu∣ted his Preface, than all I can pretend to say.

To my Honoured and Ingenious Friend Mr. Harrington, for the Modern Poets against the Ancients.

AS the Justice and Generosity of your Princi∣ple, the sweet Agreeableness of your Hu∣mor, the Vivacity of your Wit, and the strength and force of your Judgment and Penetration, justly endear you to all your Acquaintance, so they

qualify you for a Judge of the present Contro∣versie betwixt the Moderns and the Ancients, for the Prize of Glory in Learning and Poetry. Mon∣sieur Perault (whom I have not yet had the Op∣portunity to Read) has given it to the Moderns, Rapin to the Ancients: Mr. Rymer has with a∣bundance of Indignation appear'd on Rapin's side. I cannot determine whether Mr. Perault has been too partial to his own Country-men, (an Error on the right side) but I'm sure Mr Rymer has been extremely injurious to his; which has made me perhaps, too angry with him in my former Dis∣courses. But I assure my self that you are too good an Englishman, to let Friendship to any Man, bribe you to condemn those rough Effects of my Zeal for the English Nation. I will be more just than my Adversary, I will yield that Greece had Great Poets, notwithstanding all those monstrous Faults and Absurdities they abound with; tho he will not allow the English any Honour, because they have been guilty of Errors. Nay, I'll say more, that the Poetry of Greece was her most valuable Learning, for that still maintains its Share of Glory and Esteem, whilst her Philoso∣phy is now exploded by the Universal Reason of Mankind. Homer, Pindar, Sophocles and Euri∣pides, will, as long as they are understood, pre∣serve their Characters of Excellent Poets, tho the Stagyrite with all his Volumes, is now shrunk from his Ostentatious Title of the Philosopher, to that of a good Critic, or Grammarian.

Tho I grant the Gracians this, yet I cannot sub∣scribe to the rest of the Hyperbolicall raises some of our Modern Critics give them. For I confess,

I can discover no such Universal Genius in Homer, as they contend for, as that all Arts and Siences may be learn't from him: Virgil seems to me, more generally Learned by far; and Mr. Cowley among our English Poets, may without Partiality, be put up for his Rival in the Glory of Learning. As for the Numbers of Homer, Rapin vastly extols their Variety, and yet confesses that to be the Pro∣perty of the Greek Language, which makes it the easier Task for Homer to perform, and by conse∣quence, lessens his Merit on that Account. But it cannot be deny'd that Virgil has as much Variety in this as the Roman Language wou'd allow; and as was necessary for the Beauty of his Poem; and they are in his Descriptions especially, so well chosen, that they extremely contribute to the I∣mage of the thing describ'd; as Gemitus dedere Caverna: praruptus aqu•…•… Mons. The sound of the first makes u•…•… as it were hear the hollow noise the Spear of Lyacoon made in the Trojan Horse; the other Places in our View such a watry Moun∣tain. Among our English Poets, none can com∣pare with Mr. Dryden for Numbers: His Descrip∣tions are all very perfect in all things; but his Numbers contribute not a little to the force and life of the Representation, for they carry some∣thing in them distinct from the Expression and Thought; as in his Description of Night, What an Image of a profound Stillness does this fol∣lowing Verse set before us,

The Mountains seem to Nod their drousie Heads!

I have not room nor leisure at this time to make a thorough parallel betwixt the Ancients

and the Moderns, and shall only cursorily runover the Heads. I have touch'd the Universality of Ge∣nius, and the variety of Numbers (this last being the Prerogative of the Language more than of the Poets.) Judgment I think is apparently the due of the Moderns, who I'm confident wou'd ne'er have been guilty of those Absurdities the Ancients abound with. Thuy seem to have been Masters of but little Reason, when they made their Gods such limited and criminal Beings-Homer often digresses from the Hero, that is the Subject of his Poem, to entertain us with other Objects too remote from Achilles. You may, Sir, easily perceive that I press not so hard as I might on the Ancients; that I omit abundance of Impropri∣eties, and Absurdities, ridiculous even to Childishness, because I wou'd not be thought to rob the Fathers of Poetry of their just Value and Esteem; tho I confess I am of Mr. St. Euremont's Opinion, that no Name can Privilege Nonsense or ill Conduct.

The Enemies of the Moderns will not deal so Civilly with them. They deny them to be Poets because they have not strictly observed the Rules laid down by Aristotle, but by that they discover themselves either ignorant or negligent of the most chief and important end of Poetry, that is, Pleasure. Now, it cannot be deny'd but he is the best Poet who takes the surest means to obtain the end he aims at; in which, regard must be had to tho Humour, Custom, and Inclination of the Auditory; but an English Audience will never be pleas'd with a dry, Jejune and formal Method, that excludes Vari∣ety as the Religious observation of the Rules of Ari∣stotle does. And all those that exclaim against the

ty some of our English Poets have taken, must grant that a Variety that contributes to the main Design, cannot divide our Concern: And if so, 'tis cer∣tainly an Excellence the Moderns have gain'd above the Ancients. This wou'd appear plainer if I had room and time to instance in Particulars. The Plays Mr. Dryden has bless'd tho Age with will prove this; which if compar'd (as I hereafter intend) with those of Sophocles and Euripides, ei∣ther for the Plot, Thought, or Expression, will gain him the Poets Garland from those two Hero's of Old Greece.

The Plagiarism objected to our Poets is com∣mon to the Ancients too; for Virgil took from Homer, Theocritus, and ev'n Ennius; and we are assur'd Homer himself built upon some Predeces∣sors: And tho' their thoughts may be something a-kin, yet they alter their Dress, and in all o∣ther things we are satisfied with the variety of the outward visible Form, tho' the intrinsic value be the same, as Mr. Congreve's Song has it, No∣thing new besides their Faces e'ry Woman is the same. In all things as well as Women the meer Variety of Appearance, whets our Desire and Curiosity. I am,

SIR,

Your Humble Servant, Charles Gildon.

TO THE HONOURABLE GEORGE GRANVIL Esq

An Essay at a parallel betwixt Philoso∣phy, and the Love of Women.

THo' I confess Horace has generally a very just Apprehension of Things, yet can I never a∣gree with him in his notions of Happiness. Lib. 1. Epist. 6.

Nil admirari prope res est •…•…a Numici Sola{que} qu•…•… possit facere, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Beatum.

for 'tis certain, that Happiness consists in Pleasure, but there can be no Pleasure, without a Gentle and agreeable Emotion of the Passion of Admiration, the Ground of Love and Joy, out of which all Pleasure is compos'd. As an instance of this Truth, it must be granted, that as Uirtue is the chief Basis of Humane Happiness, so 'twill never be embrac'd by any Man, that does not admire

and esteem its Excellence. And in the same man∣ner, the other parts of Philosophy lead us to Plea∣sure, by Admiration. For what pleasure is there in Physics, which proceed not from that a∣greable Wonder given us, by the strange and sur∣prizing Variety, and force, we find in the Na∣ture of corporeal Things? Wh•…•… Pleasure does Metaphysics afford, that is not built on our Esteem? (and Esteem is the only part of Admiration that contributes to Pleasure, for there's a Pain attends despising, which is the other Division of it,) what P•…•…easure I say have we in this study, but what is built on our Esteem of the valuable Certainty it furnishes us with in what ever it proposes? For there is nothing more sure than Abstract Ideas, the subject of Ontology or Metaplysies. Again in Pneu∣matology, does not the Contemplation of the Pu∣rer, and Superior Beings, to the very Supream, and first cause of all that Exists, fill our Souls with excessive and amazing Delight and Wonder? Lastly, what Pleasure is there in Woman, that soft summary of Man's Happiness, which derives not its self from Admiration? Admiration, there∣fore is so far from being an Enemy to, t•…•…t it is the very foundation of our Happiness, whether we consider it in the Direction, or Aim and End of our Life, that is in Philosophy or Woman.

Some Sir, may perhaps think I have made a very strange mixture, in joyning Philosophy and Woman; tho' I'm confident, so much Wit, Youth, and all those other Accomplishments of a fine Gentleman, that render you the darling

of both Sexes, will not let you think I have de∣graded Philosophy in it, which will appear from a short parallel drawn betwixt them.

Philosophy is either employed in the Consi∣deration of Bodys, as in Physics 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Beings in ge∣neral, or Abstract Ideas, as in Metaphysics or Onto∣logy; or of Pur•…•… and Immaterial Essences, as the Souls, Angels, God, as in Pneumatology, or lastly of Uirtue as in Ethics.

First, the Business of Physics is extreamly un∣•…•…ertain, for there the Mind is employed about •…•…ery Obscure Ideas; and though some of our Ex∣•…•…eriments, often present us with certain Effects, •…•…et does it not always discover the absolute cer∣•…•…inty of the Cause, nor shall we ever be able to pe∣•…•…etrate into the inmost Nature, or all the qualitys of Matter, and till then we must be in the dark, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to the true Causes; so that Physic's put us up∣•…•…n the chase of what we have very little proba∣•…•…ility of obtaining. On the other Hand, the •…•…ove of Woman is more certain in obtaining 〈◊〉〈◊〉 well as more noble in its End, viz. a perfect •…•…njoyment of, and a close Union with the Ob∣•…•…ct desir'd, the effect of which ends not with •…•…em, but is perpetuated by their Off-Spring, who •…•…e a part of 'em, the admirable and certain Ef∣•…•…ct, of a known Charming, and Generous •…•…ause.

Secondly, Metaphysics amuses us with meer Ab∣stract Ideas, whilst the Love of Woman, put•…•… us in a sensible Possession of a Real, not Ideal Ab∣stract of all the Beautys and Perfections of every Being on this side of the Eternal. The Contem∣plation of whom, with the Created Spirits makes up Pneumatology; but we wander in too uncertain a Path, in our Contemplation of these latter, to arrive at satisfaction; for Fancy there directs ou•…•… steps more, than Judgment built on Right Reason, and Evidence. And therefore that part canno•…•… be comparable to that of the Love of Wo∣man, which gives us by the most prevailing way, the Senses, a proof of the Existence of Spi∣rits, if not distinct f•…•…om, yet of a purer Make•…•… than even the refin'd Body of Woman; for wha•…•… Lover is there that does not feel, perfectly see•…•… some unseen Spirits da•…•…ted from the bright Eyes o•…•… the fair one he adores, which have a sensible in∣fluence on him, tho' he touch her not; and thes•…•… are Spirits that chear, not shock our Natures, a•…•… those other Fantoms do.

Then for the Contemplation of the Supream Being, the best Philosophers form an Idea o•…•… him by his W•…•…ndrous Works, of which what ca•…•… give a fairer I•…•…ge of him, than Woman, the most Beautiful, Good, and Compassionate being of the Universe? Which made St. Austin compar•…•… God to a fine Woman viewing her own Perfection in a Glass. 'Tis true that the Admirable Order and Oeconomy of the Coelestial Bodys, their Glory

and Light discover apparent Foot steps of the Eternal Mind: these shew us a powerful and a wise Being, but nothing has a share of his best attri∣bute of Goodness, but the best part of Man, Wo∣man, his own Image. Besides, the Confiderati∣on of the Universe is as I may say a voluminous Introduction to the Contemplation of that Being: we are forc'd there to run through objects distinct, and various in their Forms and Beauty, as well as vastly distant in their situation, which all contri∣butes to the Confusion and Imperfection of the Image they present of the Power and Wisdom of God; and the Administration of Humane Affairs is a too tedious, as well as a too controverted ar∣gument of his Goodness. But Woman gives us at once a Beautiful and more Compendious prospect of his Power, Wisdom and Goodness; for as Pliny says, never are the works of Nature so admirable as in small things, and Woman is the Minature draught of all his Attributes that are communicable to his Creatures; for in one fine Woman we may read the legible Characters of an Almighty Hand. From whom also had I time and room, I cou'd draw the knowledge of the Moral Attributes of the first Cause.

Lastly, Ethics teach us the Rules and Prescripts of Virtue, to secure us from those Inquietudes, the Criminal and Vicious Experience: but this is on∣ly subservient to, and prepares us for the enjoy∣ment of Woman, in a more perfect Degree; for it contracts and calls home all our Wandring Wishes

and our loose Desires, and directs them all to one Object, which like the Sun-beams contracted in∣to a burning Glass, must be of far greater Force, and by consequence, give a greater and more exalted Relish of Delight, than when scatter'd and dissipated.

Ethics only informs the Mind with a bare knowledge of Vertue, without having power to influence us to the embracing of it, for there are a great many that with Medea in Ovid may say,

—Video meliora probo{que} Deteriora sequor—

but Woman can effect what Philosophy is impo∣tent in; for whilst that proposes the meer unac∣tive Theory, the Love of Woman reduces it to Practice, for when that is necessary to please her a Man loves, all the Facultys of the Soul u∣nite to effect the noble Work.

'Tis methinks such an Arraignment of the first Cause to run down that Sex, which Heaven has made choice of to impart to so large a share, in gi∣ving Immortality to Humane Race by the propa∣gation of our kind, that they deserve not to taste that Pleasure that is join'd to so mighty a work. The greatest Pleasure in the noblest Act, with the di∣•…•…est of Creatures Woman.

But whether Philosophy or Woman have the right of Precedence, 'tis certain they both afford us a Noble and agreeable Pleasure, without one or both, of which we can never be truly happy. But yet by the Nil admirari of Horace, they are thrown aside; for the cutting off Admiration, deprives us of all Pleasure in either, that in both being built on Admiration. And indeed, this passage seems to aim at a Stupid, and Pyrr•…•…onian Indifference, or Indisturbance and Insensibility, which can no more be arriv'd at, than 'tis to be desir'd.

But perhaps I mistake the sense of Horace, who it may be is only against that variable and waver∣ing Admiration, that is the Mother of Ten Thousand fruitless Inquietudes and Troubles, by generating too numerous a Progeny of restless Desires for ev'ry object that presents it self. This I confess is so far an Enemy to Happiness, as 'tis to Constancy and Resolution its safe guard, and which are so eminently conspicuous in you.

FINIS.