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VOL. X. . . 





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inifd b^ Jitmes^ BaUaniyne and Co. JBdinburgh, 





Religio Lsuciy or a Layman^s Faith, an Epistle, . . 1 
Preface, 11 

Threnodia Augustalis, a Funeral Pindaric Poem, sacred 

to the happy Memory of King Charles II. . . 53 
Notes, 79 

The Hind and the Panther, a Poem, in Three Parts, 85 

Preface, 109 

Notes on Part 1 139 

Part II 159 

Notes on Part II 18$ 

Part III 196 

Notes on Part III 240 

Britannia Rediviva, a Poem on the Birth of the Prince, S88 
Notes, 308 

Prologues and Epilogues, 309 

Mac-Flccknoe, a Satire against Thomas Shadwell, . . 425 
Notes, 441 





Ornari res ipsa negat ; contenta doceri. 

VOL. X. 



Opinions of the ceveral Sects of Philosophers concerning the Summum 
3onum.-— System of Deism. — Of Revealed Religion.-— Objection of the 
Deist — Objection answered. — Digression to the Translator of Father 
Simon's Critical Edition of the Old Testament — Of the InfalHbility 
of Tradition in geneiaL — Objection in behalf of Tradition^ urged by 
Father Simon.*— The Second Objection.— Answered^ 


The Religio Laici, according to Johnson^ is almost the only 
work of Dryden which can be considered as a voluntary efiiision. 
I do not see much ground for this assertion. Dryden was indeed 
obliged to write by the necessity of his circumstances ; but the , 
choice of the mode in which he was to labour was his own, as well 
in his Fables and other poems, as in that which follows. Nay, up- 
on examination, the Religio Laid appears, in a great measure, a 
controversial, and almost a political poem ; and, being such, can- 
not be termed, with propriety^ a voluntary effusion, any more 
than " The Medal," or " Absalom and Achitophel." It is evi- 
dent, Dryden had his own times in consideration, and the effect 
which the potto was likely to produce upon them. Religious 
controversy had mingled deeply with the party politics of the 
reign of Charles II. Divided, as the nation was, into the three 
great sects of Churchmen, Papists, and Dissenters, their several 
creeds were examined by their antagonists with scrupulous ma- 
lignity, and every hint extracted from them which could be turn- 
ed to the disadvantage of those who professed them. To the Ca- 
tholics, the dissenters objected their cruel intolerance and Jesu- 
itical practices ; to the church of England, their servile depen- 
dence on the crown, and slavish doctrine of non-resistance. The 
Catholics, on the other hand, charged the reformed church of 
England with desertion from the original doctrines of Christiani- 
ty, with denying the infallibility of general councils, and destroy- 
ing the ^unity of the church ; and against the fanatics, they ob- 
jected their anti-monarchical tenets, the wild visions of their in- 
dependent preachers, and their Seditious cabals against the church 
and state. While the church of England was thus assailed by 
two foes, who did not at the same time spare each other, it pro- 
bably occurred* to Dryden, that he, who could explain her tenets 
by a plain and philosophical commentary, had a chance, not only 


of contributing to fix and regulate the faith of her professors^ but 
of reconciling to her, as the middle course, the Catholics and the 
fanatics. The Duke of York and the Papists, on the one hand^ 
were urging the King to the most desperate measures ; on the 
other, the popular faction were just not in arms. The King, with 
the assistance and advice of Halifax, was trimming his course be- 
twixt these outrageous and furious torrents. Whatever, there- 
fore, at this important crisis, might act as a sedative on the infla- 
med spirits of all parties, and encourage them to abide with pa- 
tience the events of futurity, was a main point in favour of the 
crown. A rational and philosophical view of the tenets of the na- 
tional church, liberally expressed, and decorated with the orna- 
ments of poetry, seemed calculated to produce this effect ; and as I 
have no doubt, as well from the preface, as from passages in the 
poem, that Dryden had such a purpose in view, I have ventured to 
place the Religio Laid among his historical and political poems.* 

I would not, from what is above stated, be understood to mean, 
that Dryden wrote this poem merely with a view to politics, and 
that he was himself sceptical in the matters of which it treats. 
On the contrary, I have no doubt, that it expresses, without dis- 
guise or reservation, what was then the author's serious and firm, 
though, as it unfortunately proved, not his unalterable religious 
opinion. The remarkable line in the *^ Hind and Panther," 
seems to refer to the state of his mind at this period; and this 
system of divinity was among the " new sparkles which his pride 
had struck forth," after he had abandoned the fanatical doctrines 
in which he was doubtless educated. t It is therefore probable, 
that, having formed for himself, on grounds which seemed to 
warrant it, a rational exposition of the national creed, he was 
willing to communicate it to the public at a period, when naio- 
deration of religious zeal was so essentially necessary to the re- 
pose of the nation. 

Considered in this point of view, the Religio Laid is one of 
the most admirable poems in the language. The argumentative 
part is conducted with singular skill, upon those topics which oc- 
casioned the principal animosity between the religious sects ; and 
the deductions are drawn in favour of the church of England 

• It was intimated by Dryden's enemies, that he chose this religious and grave 
subject with a view to smooth the way to his taking orders, and obtaining church 
preferment — See a quotation from the Religio Laici, bjr J. R. subjoined to these 
introductory remarks. But our author, in the preface to the •♦Fables," declares, 
that gaing into the Church was never in his thoughts. 

•f" The reader will find this opinion more fully expressed in the observations 
en Dryden's conversion to the Roman Catholic faith, given in the Life. 


with so much apparent impartiality, that those who could not as- 
sent^ had at least no title to be angry. The opinions of the va- 
rious classes of free-thinkers are combated by an appeal to those 
feelings of the human mind^ which always acknowledge an of« 
fended Deity» and to the various modes in which all ages and na- 
tions have shewn their sense of the necessity of an atonement by 
sacrifice and penance. Dryden^ however^ differs from most phi- 
losophers^ who suppose this consciousness of guilt to be original- 
ly implanted in our bosoms : he^ somewhat fantastically^ argues, 
as if it were some remnant of the original faith revealed to Noah, 
and preserved by the posterity of Shenu The inadequacy of sa- 
crifices and oblations, when compared with the crimes of Uiose by 
whom they are made, and with the grandeur of the omnipotent 
Being to whom they are offered, paves the way for the imputed 
righteousness of Jesus Christy the fundamental doctrine of the 
Christian religion. The fitness of this vicarious sacrifice to ac- 
complish the redemption of man, and vindicate the justice and 
mercy of God ; the obvious impossibility that the writings, or au- 
thors, by which it has been conveyed to us, should be less than in- 
spired ; the progress of the Christian faith itself, though milita- 
ting against the corrupt dispositions of humanity, and graced 
with none of those attractions by which Mahomet, and other false 
prophets, bribed their followers, are then successively urged as 
evidences of the Christian religion. The poet then recurs to an 
objection, at which he had hinted in his preface. If the Christian 
religion is necessary to salvation, why is it not extended to all na- 
tions of the earth ? And suppose we grant that the circumstance 
of the revealed religion having been formerly preached and em- 
braced in great part of the world where it is now unknown, shall 
be sufficient to subject those regions to be judged by its laws, 
what is to become of the generations who have lived before the 
coming of the Messiah ? what of the inhabitants of those countries 
on which the beams of the gospel have never shone ? To these 
doubts, I hope most Christians will think our author returns a 
liberal, and not a presumptuous answer, in supposing that the 
heathen will be judged according to the light which it has plea- 
sed God to afford them ; and that, infinitely less fortunate than 
us in the extent of their spiritual knowledge, they will only be 
called upon to answer for their conformity with the dictates of 
their own conscience. The authority of St Athanasius our au- 
thor here sets aside, either because, in the ardour of his dispute 
with Arius, he carried his doctrine too far, or because his creed 
only has reference to the decision of a doctrinal question in the 
Christian church ; and the anathema annexed applies not to the 
heathen world, but to those, who, having heara the orthodox 
faith preaqhed, have wilfully chosen the heresy. Dryden next 
takes under review the work of Father Simon ; and, after an 


eulogy on the author and translator, pronounces, that the former 
was not a bigotted Catholic, since he did not hesitate to chal- 
lenge some of the traditions of the church of Rome. To these 
traditions, these '* brushwood helps," with which the Catholics 
endeavoured to fence the doctrines of their church, our author 
proceeds, and throws them aside as liable to error and corruption. 
The pretensions of the Church of Rome, by her Pope and general 
councils, infallibly to determine the authenticity of church tra* 
dition, is the next proposition. To this the poet answers^ that 
if they possess infallibdity at all, it ought to go the length of re- 
storing the canon» or correcting the corrupt copies of Scripture ; 
a reply which seems to concede to the Romans ; as, without 
denying the grounds of their claim, it only asserts, that it is not 
sufficiently extended. Upon the ground, however, that the plea 
of infallibility, by which the poet is obviously somewhat embar- 
rassed, must be dismissed, as proving too much, the Holy Scrip- 
tures are referred to as the sole rule of faith ; admitting such ex- 
planations as the church of England has given to the contested 
doctrines of Christianity. The unlettered Christian, we are told^ 
does well to pursue, in simplicity, his path to heaven ; the learn- 
ed divine is to study well the Sacred Scriptures, with such assist- 
ance as the most early traditions of the Church, especially those 
which are written, may, in doubtful points, afford him. It is in 
this argument chiefly, that there may be traced a sort of vacilla- 
tion and uncertainty in our author's opinion, boding what after- 
wards took place — his acquiescence in the church authority of 
Rome. Nevertheless, having vaguely pronounced, that some 
traditions are to be received, and others rejected, he gives his 
opinion against the Roman see, which dictated to the laity ttie 
explications of doctrine as adopted by the church, and prohibited 
them to form their own opinion upon the text, or even to peruse 
the sacred volume which contains it. This Dryden contrasts 
with the opposite evil, of vulgar enthusiasts debasing Scripture 
by their own absurd commentaries, and dividing into as many 
sects, as there are wayward opinions formed upon speculative 
doctrine. He concludes, that both extremes are to be avoided ; 
that saving faith does not depend on nice disquisitions ; yet, if 
inquisitive minds are hurried into such, the Scripture, and the 
commentary of the fathers, are their only safe gmdes : 

And after hearing what our Church can say. 
If still our reason runs another way. 
That private reason 'tis more just to curb» 
Than by dispute the public peace disturb : 
For points obscure are of small use to learn. 
But common quiet is mankind's concern 

In considering Dryden's creed thus analyzed, I think it will 
appear, that the author, though stiU holding the doctrines of the 


Church of England, had been biassed^ in the course of his en- 
quiry, by those of Rome. His wish for the possibility of an in- 
fallible guide,* expressed with almost indecent ardour, the dif- 
ficulty, nay, it would seem, in his estimation, almost the impos- 
sibility, of discriminating between corrupted and authentic tra- 
ditions, while the necessity of the latter to the interpretation of 
Scripture is plainly admitted, appear, upon the whole, to have 
left the poet's mind in an unpleasmg state of doubt, frota which 
he rather escapes than is reheved. He who only acquiesces in 
the doctrines of his church, because the exercise of his private 
judgment may disturb the tranquillity of the state, can hardly be 
said to be in a state to give a reason for the faith that is in him. 

The doctrine of the Religio Laid is admirably adapted to the 
subject ; though treating of the most abstruse doctrines of Chris- 
tianity, it is as dear and perspicuous as the most humble prose, 
while it has all the elegance and effect which argument is capa^ 
ble of receiving from poetry. Johnson, usually sufficiently nig- 
gard of praise, has allowed, that this *^ is a composition of great 
excellence in its kind, in which the familiar is verv properly di- 
versified with the solemn, and the grave with the humorous ; in 
which metre has neither weakened the force, nor clouded the 
perspicuity of argument ; nor will it be easy to find another ex- 
ample, equally happy, of this middle kind of writing, which, 
though prosaic in some parts, rises to high poetry in omers, and 
neither towers to the skies, nor creeps ^ong the ground." f I 
cannot help remarking, that the style of the Religio Laid has 
been imitated successfully by the late Mr Cowper in some of his 
pieces. Yet he has not been always able to maintain the resem- 
blance, but often crawls where Dryden would have walked. The 
natural dignity of our author may be discovered in the lamest 
lines of the poem, whereas his imitator is often harsh and em- 
barrassed. Both are occasionally prosaic ; but in such passages 
Dryden's verse resembles good prose, and Cowper's that which 
is feeble and involved. 

The name which Dryden has thought proper to affix to this 
declaration of his faith, seems to have been rather fashionable 
about that time. There is a treatise De ReUgione Laid, attached 
to the work of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, De Feritate, first 
published in 1633. But the most famous work, with a similar 
title, was the Religio Medid of Thomas Browne, which was trans- 

* Such an omniscient church we wish indeed ; 
'Tweie worth hoth Testaments, cast in the Creed. 

'f Johnson*s Life of Dryden. 


lated into Latin by Meryweather, and afterwards into French, 
Italian, Dutch, German, and most of the languages of Europe. 
In 16SS, Charles Blount, of Staffordshire, son to Sir Henry 
Blounty published a short treatise, entitled, Religio Laid, whira 
he inscribed to his '* much honoured friend, JohnDryden, Esq. ;*• 
whom he informed, in the epistle-dedicatory, " I have enclea- 
voured that my discourse should only be a continuance of yours ; 
and that, as you taught men how to believe, so I might instruct 
them how to live."* 

It has been suggested, that the purpose of the Religio Laid o€ 
Dryden was to bring the contending factions to sober and phi- 
losophical reflection on their differences in points of faith, and to 
abate, if possible, the acrimony with which they contended upon 
the most obscure subjects of polemical divinity. But to attempt^ 
by an abstracted disquisition on the original cause of quarrel, to 
stop a controversy, m which all the angry passions had been 
roused, and which indeed was fast verging towards blows, is as 
vain an attempt, as it would be to turn the course of a river, swoln 
with a thousand tributary streams, by draining the original spring, 
head. From the cold reception of this poem, compared to those 
political and personal satires which preceded it» Dryden might 
learn the difference of interest, excited by productions which 
tended to fan party rage, and one which was designed to mitigate 
its ferocity. The Religio Laid, which first appeared in Novem- 
ber 1682» neither attracted admiration nor censure; it was nei- 
ther hailed by the acclamations of the one party, nor attacked by 
the indignant answers of the other. The public were, however, 
sufficiently interested in it to call for a renewal of the impression 
in the following year. This second edition, which had escaped 
even the researdies of Mr Malone, is in the collection of my friend 
Mr Heber. It might probably have been again reprinted with ad- 
vantage, but our autnor's change of faith must necessarily have 
rendered him unwilling to give a third edition. The same circum- 
stance called the attention of his enemies towards this neglected 
poem, who, in many libels, upbraided him with the versatility of 
his religious opinions. The author of a pamphlet, called " The 
Revolter," was at the pains to print the tenets of the Religio 
Laid concerning the Catholic controversy, in contrast with those 
which our author had adopted and expressed in '' The Hind and 
Panther." t Another turned our author's own title against him. 

* Malone, toL III. p. 310. 

f ** The Revolter, a Tragi»Comedy, acted between the Hind and Panther and 
BeUgioLaki. London. 1687." 


and published " Religio Laid, or a Layman's Faith touching the 
Supream and Infallible Guide of the Church, by J. R. a Convert 
of Mr Bayes. In Two Letters to a Friend in the Country. Licensed 
June the 1st, 1688." In both these pamphlets our author is treated 
with the grossest insolence and brutality. * Excepting these ma« 

* As will appear from the following extracts : — " While he sat thus in his 
poetical throne, or rather acting upon the stage of fable and pagan mythology, 
and transfiguring into beasts all mankind, but Turks and infidels, that were out 
of his road, he never considered what a monster he was himself; a second Gorgon 
with three heads, for each of which he had a particular employment ; with the 
one, to fawn upon the most infamous of usurpers ; with the other, at one time 
to lick the beneficent hands of his Protestant mother, and, by and bye, to 
court the charity of his Catholic mamma ; while, with the third, he barked 
and snarled, not only at his first deserted female parent, but also at all other dif* 
fering sentiments and opinions, which his Sovereign had so graciously and gene- 
rously indulged. 

*' But 'twas his wrath, because his native church 
Left his high expectations in the lurch. 

He saw the play-wright lawreate debauched 

By the times, vices which he himself reproached ; 

And, by his grand reform of stage-pit tools. 

Judged his ability to manage souls. 

The comedy, to see him preach for aught. 

She knew might tragic prove to those he taught ; 

By ill instructions to their loss beguiled. 

Or scorning precepts from a tongue defiled 

With stage c^scenity— — 

For who could have refrained from sportive mirth, 

To hear the nation's poet, Bayes, hold forth ? 

Or who would ever practice by the rule 

Of one they could not chuse but ridicule ? 

The scandal was the greater, the more rare. 

An ordained play-wright in the house of prayer. 

While people only flock to hear him chime 

A rampant sermon forth in brilly rhime ; 

Or else his gaping auditors he feasts 

With bold Isaiah's raptures, and Ezekiel's beasty. 

All this the church foresaw, nor could endure 

Polluted lips should handle things most pure. 

T?ie Revolter, p. 2. 

** But, to give the devil his due, I must needs own Mr Bayes has a most powerful 
and luxurious hand at satire, and may challenge all Christendom to match him ; 
for indeed 1 never, in my slender province, met any that was worthy to compare 
to him, unless that unknown, but supposed worthy author, that writ to him upon 
his at last turning Roman Catholic ; for Bayes, like the Vicar of Bray, in 
Henry VIII. Edward VI. Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth's times, was re- 
solved to keep his place ; (and the quoting an author to the purpose, is the same 


lignant criticisms, the Religio Laid slept in obscurity after the 
second edition, and was not again published till after the au« 
thorns death. Neither has it beeit since popular, although its 
pure spirit of Christianity should be acceptable to the religious. 
Its moderation to the philosopher, and the excellence of the com- 
position to all admirers of argumentative poetry. 

thing, the learned say, as if it was his own), and that wiU, I hope, excuse my 
putting them down here :— 

**• Thou mercenary renegade, thou slave. 
Thou ever changing still to be a knave ; 
What sect, what error, wilt thou next disgrace ? 
Thou art so iude^ so scandalously base. 
That antichristian popery may be 
Ashamed of such a proselyte as thee ; 
Not all thy rancour, or felonious spite. 
Which animates thy lumpish soul to write. 
Could ha* contrived a satire more severe. 
Or more disgrace the cause thou wouldst prefer 
Yet in thy favour, this must be confest. 
It suits with thy poetic genius best ; 

There thou 

To truths disused, mayst entertain 

Thyself with stories, more fanciful and vain 

Than e'er thy poetry could ever fain. 

Or sing the lives of thy own fellow saints, 

'Tis a large field, and thy assistance wants ; 

Thence copy out new operas for the stage. 

And with their miracles direct the age. 

Such is thy faith, if faith thou hast indeed, 

For well we may suspect the poet^s creed. 

Rebel to God, blasphemer o* the king. 

Oh tell whence could this strange compliance spring ? 

So mayest thou prove to thy new gods as true. 

As thy old friend, the devil, has been to you* 

Yet conscience and religion's your pretence. 

But bread and drink the methologick sense. 

Ah ! how persuasive is the want of bread. 

Not reasons from- strong box more strongly plead. 

A convert, thou ! 'tis past all believing ; 

'Tis a damned scandal, of thy foes contriving ; 

A jest of that malicious monstrous fame— 

The honest lajmian's faith is still the same. 

Religio Laiciy byJ»R.a Convert of Mr Baye*, 


In such coarse invective were Dryden*s theological poems censured by persons, 
who, far from writing decent poetry, or even common sense, could neither ^pell, 
nor write tolerable grammar. 



A. Poem, with so bold a title, and a name prefixed 
from which the handling of so serious a subject 
would not be expected, may reasonably oblige the 
author to say somewhat in defence, both of himself 
and of his undertaking. In the first place, if it be 
objected to me, that, being a layman, I ought not to 
have concerned myself with speculations, which 
belong to the profession of divinity ; I could an- 
swer, that perhaps laymen, with equal advantages of 
parts and knowledge, are not the most incompetent 
judges of sacred things ; but, in the due sense of 
my own weakness, and want of learning, I plead 
not this ; I pretend not to make myself a judge of 
faith in others, but only to make a confession of my 
own. I lay no unhallowed hand upon the ark, but 
wait on it, with the reverence that becomes me, at 
a distance. In the next place, I will ingenuously 
confess, that the helps I have used in this small 
treatise, were many of them taken from the work* 



of our own reverend divines of the church of Eng- 
land ; so that the weapons with which I combat ir- 
religion, are already consecrated ; though I suppose 
they may be taken down as lawfully as the sword 
of Goliah was by David, when they are to be em- 
ployed for the common cause against the enemies 
of piety. I intend not by this to entitle them to 
any of my errors, which yet I hope are only those 
of charity to mankind ; and such as my own cha- 
rity has caused me to commit, that of others may 
more easily excuse. Being naturally inclined to 
scepticism in philosophy, I have no reason to im- 
pose my opinions in a subject which is above it ; 
but whatever they are, I submit them with all reve- 
rence to my mother church, accounting them no 
further mine, than as they are authorized, or at 
least uncondemned, by her. And, indeed, to secure 
myself on this side, 1 have used the necessary pre- 
caution of shewing this paper before it was pub- 
lished to a judicious and learned friend ; a man in- 
defatigably zealous in the service of the church and 
state, and whose writings have highly deserved of 
both. He was pleased to approve the body of the 
discourse, and I hope he is more my friend than to 
do it out of complaisance : It is true, he had too 
good a taste to like it all ; and, amongst some other 
faults, recommended to my second view, what I 
have written, perhaps too boldly, on St Athanasius, 
which he advised me wholly to omit. I am sensi- 
ble enough, that I had done more prudently to have 
followed his opinion ; but then I could not have sa- 
tisfied myself, that I had done honestly not to have 
written what was my own. It has always been 
my thought, that heathens, who never did, nor 
without miracle could, hear of the name of Christ, 
were yet in a possibility of salvation. Neither will 
it enter easily into my belief, that before the co- 


ming of our Saviour, the whole world, excepting 
only the Jewish nation, should lie under the inevi- 
table necessity of everlasting punishment, for want 
of that revelation, which was confined to so small 
a spot of ground as that of Palestine. Among the 
sons of Noah, we read of one only who was accur- 
sed ; and, if a blessing, in the ripeness of time, was 
reserved for Japhet, of whose progeny we are, it 
seems unaccountable to me, why so many genera- 
tions of the same offspring, as precedjed our Saviour 
in the flesh, should be all involved in one common 
condemnation, and yet that their posterity should 
be entitled to the hopes of salvation ; as if a bill of 
exclusion had passed only on the fathers, which de- 
barred not the sons from their succession : or, that 
so many ages had been delivered over to hell, and 
so many reserved for heaven, and that the devil had 
the first choice, and God the next. Truly I am apt 
to think, that the revealed religion, which was 
taught by Noah to all his sons, might continue for 
some ages in the whole posterity. That afterwards 
it was ihcluded wholly in the family of Shem, is 
manifest ; but when the progenies of Cham and Ja- 
phet swarmed into colonies, and those colonies were 
subdivided into many others, in process of time 
their descendants lost, by little and little, the pri- 
mitive and purer rites of divine worship, retaining 
only the notion of one deity ; to which succeeding 
generations added others ; for men took their de- 
grees in those ages from conquerors to gods. Re- 
velation being thus eclipsed to almost all mankind, 
the light of nature, as the next in dignity, was sub- 
stituted ; and that is it which St Paul concludes to 
be the rule of the heathens, and by which they are 
hereafter to be judged. If my supposition be true, 
then the consequence, which I have assumed in 
my poem, may be also true ; namely, that Deism, 


or the principles of natural worship, are only faint 
remnants, or dying flames, of revealed religion, in 
the posterity of Noah ; and that our modern philo- 
sophers, nay, and some of our philosophizing di- 
vines, have too much exalted the faculties of our 
souls, when they have maintained, that, by their 
force, mankind has been able to And out, that there 
is one ^supreme agent, or intellectual being, which 
we call God ; that praise an3 prayer are his due 
worship ; and the rest of those deducements, which 
I am confident are the remote effects of revelation, 
and unattainable by our discourse, I mean as simply 
considered, and without the benefit of divine illu- 
mination. So that we have not lifted up ourselves 
to God, by the weak pinions of our reason, but he 
has been pleased to descend to us , and what So- 
crates said of him, what Plato writ, and the rest of 
the heathen philosophers of several nations, is all no 
more than the twilight of revelation, after the sun 
of it was set in the race of Noah. That there is 
something above us, some principle of motion, our 
reason can apprehend, though it cannot discover 
what it is by its own virtue : and, indeed, it is 
very improbable that we, who, by the strength of 
our faculties, cannot enter into the knowledge of 
any being, not so much, as of our own, should be 
able to find out, by them, that supreme nature, 
which we cannot otherwise define, than by saying 
it is infinite ; as if infinite were definable, or infi- 
nity a subject for our narrow understanding. They, 
who would prove religion by reason, do but weaken 
the cause which they endeavour to support : it is to 
take away the pillars from our faith, and to prop it 
only with a twig ; it is to design a tower, like that 
of Babel, which, if it were possible, as it is not, to 
reach heaven, would come to nothing by the con- 
fusion of the workmen. For every man is building 


a several way ; impotently conceited of his own 
model and his own materials, reason is always stri- 
ving, and always at a loss ; and of necessity it miist 
so come to pass, while it is exercised about that 
which is not its proper object. Let us be content, at 
last, to know God by his own methods ; at least, 
so much of him as he is pleased to reveal to us in 
the sacred Scriptures. To apprehend them to be the 
word of God is all our reason has to do ; for all be- 
yond it is the work of faith, which is the seal of 
heaven impressed upon our human understanding. 
And now for what concerns the holy Bishop 
Athanasius, the preface of whose creed seems in- 
consistent with my opinion, which is, that hea- 
thens may possibly be saved. In the first place, I 
desire it may be considered, that it is the preface 
only, not the creed itself, which, till I am better 
informed, is of too hard a digestion for my charity.* 
It is not that I am ignorant, how many several 
texts of Scripture seemingly support that cause ; 
but ndther am I ignorant, how all those texts may 
receive a kinder, and more mollified interpretation. 
Every man, who is read in church history, knows 
that belief was drawn up after a long contestation 
with Arius, concerning the divinity of our blessed 
Saviour, and his being one substance with The Fa- 
ther ; and that thus compiled, it was sent abroad 
among the Christian churches, as a kind' of test, 
which, whosoever took, was looked on as an ortho- 
dox believer .f It is manifest from hence, that the 

* " Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary 
that he hold the Catholic faith. 

*' Which faith^ except every one do keep whole and undefiled^ 
without doubt he shdl perish everlastingly. 

t The controversy between Athanasius and Arius long divided 
the Christian church. The former was patriarch of Alexandria, 


heathen part of the empire was not concerned in 
it ; for its business was not to distinguish betwixt 
Pagans and Christians, but betwixt heretics and 
true believers. This, well considered, takes off the 
heavy weight of censure, which I would willingly 
avoid from so venerable a man ; for if this proposi- 
tion, " whosoever will be saved," be restrained only 
to those for whom it was intended, and for whom 
it was composed, I mean the Christians ; then the 
anathema reaches not the heathens, who had never 
heard of Christ, and were nothing interested in that 
dispute. After all, I am far from blaming even 
that prefatory addition to the creed, and as far 
from cavilling at the continuation of it in the li- 
turgy of the church, where, on the days appointed, 
it is publicly read ; for I suppose there is the 
same reason for it now, in opposition to the Sod- 
nians, as there was then against the Arians ; the one 
being a heresy, which seems to have been refined 
out of the other ; and with how much more plau- 
sibility of reason it combats our religion, with so 
much more caution it ought to be avoided ; there- 
fore, the prudence of our church is to be commend- 

and the latter Bishop of Nicomedia, in Asia. The dispute re- 
garded the godhead of the Trinity. The doctrine of Arius, that 
God the Son was not co-existent, consequently, not equal in 
dignity with God the Father, was condemned by the grand ge- 
neral council of Nice, and he was banished. But he was after- 
wards recalled by the Emperor ; and his heresy spread so wide- 
ly, that almost all the Christian world were at one time Arians. 
As a test of the true orthodox doctrine, Athanasius composed 
the creed which goes by his name. Being written expressly for 
this purpose, and for the exclusive use of the Christian world, 
Dryden argues^ with great apparent justice, that the anathema 
with which it is fenced, has no relation to the heathens, and thai 
we cannot, with charity, or even logically, argue from thence 
concerning their state in the next world. 


ed, which has interposed her authority for the re* 
commendation of this creed. Yet to such as ar? 
grounded in the true belief, those explanatory 
creeds, the Nicene and this of Athanasius, might 
perhaps be spared; for what is supernatural will 
always be a mystery in spite of exposition ; and, 
for my own part, the plain Apostle's creed is most 
suitable to my weak understanding, as the simplest 
diet is the most easy of digestion. 

I have dwelt longer on this subject than I in- 
tended, and longer than perhaps I ought ; for, ha- 
ving laid down, as my foundation, that the Scrip* 
ture is a rule ; that in all things needful to salva- 
tion it is clear, sufficient, and ordained by God Al- 
mighty for that purpose ; I have left myself no right 
to interpret obscure places, such as concern the 
possibility of eternal happiness to heathens ; be- 
cause whatsoever is obscure is concluded not neces- 
sary to be known. 

But, by asserting the Scripture to be the canon 
of our faith, I have unavoidably created to myself 
two sorts of enemies ; the papists, indeed, more di- 
rectly, because they have kept the Scripture from 
us what they could, and have reserved to themselves 
a right of interpreting what they have delivered un- 
der the pretence of infallibility ; and the fanatics, 
more collaterally, because they have assumed what 
amounts to an infallibility in the private spirit, and 
have distorted those texts of Scripture which are 
not necessary to salvation, to the damnable uses of 
sedition, disturbance, and destruction of the civil 
government. To begin with the papists, and to 
speak freely, I think them the less dangerous (at lesyst 
in appearance) to our present state ; for not only 
the penal laws are in force against them, and their 
number is contemptible, but also their pei^age and 
commons are excluded from parliaments, and conse- 

VOL. X. B 


quently those laws in no probability of being re- 
pealed. A general and uninterrupted plot of their 
clergy, ever since the Reformation, I suppose all 
Protestants believe ; for it is not reasonable to think, 
but that so many of their orders, as were outed 
from their fat possessions, would endeavour a re^ 
entrance against those whom they account here- 
tics.* As for the late design, Mr Coleman's let- 
ters, for aught I know, are the best evidence ; and 
what they discover, without wire- drawing their 
sense, or malicious glosses, all men of reason con- 
clude credible.! I^ there be any thing more than 

* ** It is certain^ that the restless and enterprizing spirit of the 
Catholic churchy particularly of the Jesuits, merits attention^ and 
is, in some degree, dangerous to every other communion. Such 
zeal of proselytism actuates that sect, that its missionaries have 
penetrated into every nation of the globe, and, in one sense, there 
is a Popish-plot perpetually carrying on against all states, Pro- 
testant, Pagan, and Mahometan." — Hume, Vol. VII. p. 72. . 

+ The unfortunate Edward Coleman was secretary to the Duke 
of York, and in high favour with his master. With the intrigu- 
ing spirit of a courtier, and the zeal of a Catholic, he had long 
carried on a correspondence with Father La Chaise, confessor to 
the King of France, with the Pope's nuncio, and with other Ca- 
tholics abroad, for the purpose, as he himself states it, of '^ the 
conversion of three kingdoms, and by that, perhaps, the utter 
subduing of a pestilent heresy, which has a long time domineered 
over a great part of the norUiem world." It would seem, from 
these letters, that it was the purpose of the Catholics, to begin 
by obtaining, if possible, a toleration, or exemption from the pe- 
nal laws ; and then, while strengthening themselves byaiew con- 
verts, to await the succession of James, or the open declaration 
of Charles in favour of their religion. From various points, it lU)- 
pears, that Coleman was a better Catholic than an Englishman ; 
and would not have hesitated to sacrifice the interests df his coun- 
try to France, if, by so doing, he could have brought hep faith 
nearer to Rome. There were also indications of both the king'^ 
and duke's accessibility to foreign influence, which were fraught 
with consequences highly dangerous to the country. But while 
the Catholics were availing themselves of these unworthy dispo- 
sitions in the royal brothers, it was quite absurd to suppose^ tnat 


this required of me, I must believe it as well as I 
am able, in spite of the witnesses, and out of a de- 
cent conformity to the votes of parliament ; for I 
suppose the fanatics will not allow the private spirit 
iu this case. Here the infallibility is at least in one 
part of the government ; and our understandings, 
as well as our wUls, are represented. But to re- 
turn to the Roman Catholics, how can we be se- 
cure from the practice of jesuited Papists in that re- 
ligion ? For not two or three of that order, as some 
of them would impose upon us, but almost the 
whole body of them, are of opinion, that their in- 
fallible master has a right over kings, not only in 
spirituals, but temporals. Not to name Mariana, 
Bellarmine, Emanuel Sa, Molina, Santarel, Siman-p 
cha,* and at least twenty others of foreign coun- 

they should have forfeited every prospect of success^ by assassi-^ 
nating those very persons^ oipon whose lives their whole plan 
depended, to place upon the throne of the Prince of Orange^ 
the head of the Protestant League. Yet^ although not the least 
trace is tohe found in Coleman's Letters of the murders, invasions, 
fires^ and massacres, which Oates and Bedloe bore witness to, 
the real and imaginary conspiracy were identified by the gene- 
ral prepossession of the nation ; and Coleman, who undoubted- 
ly deserved death for his unlawful and treasonable trafficking with 
foreign interests against the religion and liberty of his country, 
actually suffered for a plot which was totally chimerical. 

* These are all Jesuits and controversial writers. 

Marina maintains, that it is well for princes to believe, that 
if they become oppressive to their people, they may be killed, not 
only lawfully, but most commendably.— -/jij/t^t/^ pp. 61, 64. 
In the 6th chapter of the same work, he calls the murder of 
Henry IIL of France by Jaques Clement, " insignem animi con" 
Jidentiam^-'facinus memorabile — cceso rege, tngens sibi nomenJeciL" 

Bellarmine declares roundly^ that all heretics are to be cut ofF, 
unless they are the stronger party, and then the Catholics must 
remain quiet, and waita fitter time. — DeZ/atcw,LiberIII. cap.22. 

Simancha affirms, "propter Hceresin Regis, non solum Rex regno 
privaiur, et a communionejidelium dirts proscripfionibus separaiur ; 
sed et ejusjilii a regni successione pelluniur." Suarez expressly 


tries, we can produce of our own nation, Campian, 
and Doleman or Parsons,f (besides many [who] are 
named whom I have not read,) who all of them at- 
test this doctrine, that the Pope can depose and 
give away the right of any sovereign prince, se vel 
paulum deflexerit, if he shall never so little v^arp ; 
but if he once comes to be excommunicated, then 
the bond of obedience is taken off from subjects ; 
and they may and ought to drive him, like an- 
other Nebuchadnezzar, ex hofninum Christianorvm 
domnatu, from exercising dominion over Chris- 
tians; and to this they are bound by virtue of 
divine precept, and by all the ties of conscience, 
under no less penalty than damnation. If they an- 

says^ ^* Regem excommunicaium impune deponi vel occidi quibus" 
cunque.posse,"'^Susirez in Reg. Mag. Brit. Lib. 6. cap. 6. ^ 24t3 

These are sujQBcient examples of the doctrine laid down m the 
text, which, I believe, is now as much detested by Roman Ca« 
tholics as by those of other religions. 

t Edmund Campian, and Robert Parsons, English Jesuits, in 
the year 1580, obtained a bull from the Pope, declaring that the 
previous bull of Pius V., deposing and excommunicating Queen 
Elizabeth, did forever bind the heretics, but not the Catholics, 
till a favourable opportunity should occur of putting it into exe- 
cution. Thus armed, they came into England, their native coun- 
try, for the express purpose of proclaioiing the Pope's right to 
dethrone monarchs, and that Queen Elizabeth's subjects were 
freed from their allegiance. Campian was hanged for preaching 
this doctrine, A. D. 1581* Parsons, finding England too hot for 
him, fled beyond seas, and settled at Rome. He published many 
works, both in English and Latin, against the Church and State 
of England ; one of which is, *' A Conference about the next Sue* 
cession of die Crown of England," printed in 1593, imder the 
name of N. Doleman. The first part ccmtains the doctrine con* 
ceming the right of the Church to chastise kings, and proceed 
against them. This book the fanatics found so much to their 

furpose, that they reprinted it, to justify the murder of Charles 
. — Atheiiw Oxon. Vol. I. p. 358. Doleman, under whose name 
it was originally published, was a quiet secular priest, who ab- 
horred suph doctrines. Parsons, the r^al author, died at Rome 
in l6lO. 


swer m6, (as a learned priest has lately written,) that 
this doctrine of the Jesuits is not defide^ and that 
consequently they are not obliged by it, they must 
pardon me, if I think they Mve said nothing to 
the purpose ; for it is a maxim in their church, 
where points of faith are not decided, and that doc- 
tors are of contrary opinions, they may foUow which 
part they please, but more safely the most received 
and most authorized. And their champion, Bellar- 
mine, has told the world, in his Apology, that the 
King of England is a vassal to the Pope, ratione du 
recti domtnit/^ and that he holds in villanage of his 
Roman landlord ; which is no new claim put in for 
England. Our chronicles are his authentic wit- 
nessei^, that King John was deposed by the same 
plea, and Philip Augustus admitted tenant ; and, 
which makes the more for Bellarmine, the French 
king was again ejected when our king submitted 
to the church, and received the crown under the 
sordid condition of a vassalage. 

It is not sufficient for the more moderate and 
well-meaning papists, of which I doubt not there 
are many, to produce the evidences of their loyalty 
to the late king, and to declare their innocency in 
this plot. I will grant their behaviour in the first 
to have been as loyal and as brave as they desire ; 
and will be willing to hold them excused as to the 
second, (I mean when it comes to my turn, and 
after my betters ; for it is a madness to be sober 
alone, while the nation continues drunk :) but that 
saying of their Father Cres.f is still running in my 

* The Dominium directum is the right of seignory competent 
to a feudal superior, in opposition to the Dominium utile, or ac- 
tual possession of the lands which is held by the vassal. 
■ t Hugh Paulin Cressy, better known by the name of Serenus 
Cressy, which he adopted upon entering into a religious state^ 


head, — that they may be dispensed with in their 
obedience to an heretic prince, while the necessity 
of the times shall oblige them to it ; (for that, as 
another of them tells us, is only the effect of Chris- 
tian prudence ;) but when once they shall get power 
to shake him off, an heretic is no lawful king, and 
consequently to rise against him is no rebellion. 
I should be glad, therefore, that they would follow 
the advice which was charitably given them by a 
reverend prelate of our church, namely, that they 
would join in a public act of disowning and detest- 
ing those Jesuitic principles, and subscribe to all 
doctrines which deny the Pope's authority of depo- 
sing kings, and releasing subjects from their oath 
of allegiance ; to which, I should think, they might 
easily be induced, if it be true, that this present 
Pope has condemned the doctrine of king-killing ; 
a thesis of the Jesuits, maintained, amongst others, 
ex cathedra^ as they call it, or in open consistory. 

Leaving them, therefore, in so fair a way, (if they 
please themselves,) of satisfying all reasonable men 
of their sincerity and good meaning to the govern- 
ment, 1 shall make bold to consider that other ex- 

was originally chaplain to the unfortunate Strafford^ and after- 
wards to the gallant Falkland ; but^ having gone abroad after 
the Civil Wars^ he became a convert to the Catholic faith, and a 
Benedictine monk in the English college of Douay. After the 
Restoration, he returned to England, and was appointed chaplain 
to Queen Catherine. He was remarkable for regularity of life, 
unaffected piety^ modest and mild behaviour. But in mystical 
doctrines, ne was an enthusiast ; and in religion, a zealot. He 
was the principal conductor of controversy on the part of the Pa- 
pists ; and published many treatises against Stillingfleet^ Pierce, 
Bagshaw^ and other champions of the Protestant faith. His chief 
work was the Church History of Brittany, from the beginning 
of Christianity to the Norman Conquest. — See AtheruB Oxon, 11. 
p. 528. 


treme of our religion, I mean the fanatics, or scbis- 
matics, of the English church. Since the Bible has 
been translated into our tongue, they have used it 
so, as if their business was not to be saved, but to 
be. damned, by its contents. If we consider only 
them, better had it been for the English nation, 
that it had still remained in the original Greek and 
Hebrew, or at least in the honest Latin of St Je- 
rome, than that several texts in it should have been 
prevaricated to the destruction of that government, 
which put it into so ungrateful hands. 

How many heresies the first translation of Tyn- 
dal* produced in few years, let my Lord Herbert's 

* The passage in Lord Herbert's history, referred to by Dry- 
den, seems to be that which follows :— 

** For as the Scriptures began then commonly to be read, so 
out of the literal sense thereof, the manner of those times was, 
promiscuously to draw arguments, for whatsoever in matter of 
state. or otherwise was to be done. Insomuch, that the text which 
came nearest the point in question, was taken as a decision of the 
business, to the no little detriment of their affairs; the Scriptures 
not pretending yet to give regular instructions in those points. 
But this is so much less strange, that the year preceding, the 
Scriptures (heretofore not permitted to .the view of the people) 
were now translated in divers languages, and into English, by 
Tindal, Joy, and others, though, as not being warranted by the 
king's authority, they were publicly burnt, and a new and better 
translation promised to be set fortn, and allowed to the people ; 
it being not thought fit by our king, that, under what pretence 
or difficulty soever, his subjects should be defrauded of that, 
wherein was to be found the word of God, and means of their 
salvation. Howbeit not a few inconveniences were observed to 
follow. For as the people did not sufficiently separate the more 
clear and necessary parts thereof, from the obscure and acces- 
sory ; and as again taking the several authors to be equally in- 
spired, they did equally apply themselves to all ; they fell into 
many dangerous opinions. Little caring how they lived, so they 
understood well, bringing religion thus into much irresolution 
and controversie, while few men agreeing on the same interpre- 
tation of the harder places, vexed each others conscience, approw 



Histoiy of Httiry the Eighth inform you ; itiso^ 
much that, for the gross eirors in it, and ihe great 
mischiefs it occasioned, a sentence passed on the 
first edition of the Bible, too shameful almost to be 
repeated** After the short reign of Edward the 

I « « 

priattng to themsel ved the gift of the spirit. Whereof the Roman 
churchy (much perplext at first with tnese defections) did at last 
avail itself; as assuming alone the power of that decision^ which 
yet was used more in favour of themselves^ than such an analogy^ 
as ought to be found in so perfect a book* So that few were sa- 
tisfied therewith^ but such aS) renouncing their own judghient, 
and submitting to theirs^ yielded themselves wholly to an iiii« 
pUcit faith ; in which, though they found an apparent ease, yet 
as, for justifying of themselves, the authority of their belief was 
derived more immediately from the churdi, than the Scripture, 
not a few difficulties were introduced, concerning both* While 
the more speculative sort could not imagine, how to hold that as 
an infallible rule, which needed humane help to vindicate and 
6uptK)rt it ; nevertheless, as by frequent reading of the Scripture 
at this time^ it generaJly appeared what the Romish church had 
added or alter^ in religion, so many recovered a just liberty, 
endeavouring together a reformation of the doctrine and manners 
of the clergy, which yet, through the obstinacy of some, suc^ 
ceeded worse than so pious intentions deserved." 

* William Tyndal, otherwise called Hitchens, was bom on the 
borders of Wales, and educated at Oxford. He was one of the 
earliest ProtestantSf and so boldly maintained the doctrines of the 
Reformation, that he was obliged to leave England. He employe 
ed himself, while abroad, in executing a translation, first of the 
New Testament, and afterwards of the Pentateuch, with pro- 
logues to the different books. But as he was a zealous Lutheran, 
and as it had not pleased King Henry VIH. that his subjects 
should become Protestants, though they had ceased to be Pa^ 

Eists, Tyndal's version of the New Testament was publicly 
urned) and prohibited by royal proclamation, as tending to 
disturb the brains of weak persons. This grossly indecorous ex«i 
pression was not altogether without foundation. A rule of ^th, 
containing the most sublime doctrines both of faith and moral 
practice, and which had long been acknowledged the only guide 
to heaven, could not be exposed at once to the vulgar, who had 
been bred up in the grossest ignorance of its nature and contents, 
without dazzling and confounding them^ as the beams of the 

ii;&Lioio LAtci. 25 

Sixth, (who had continued to carry On the Reform 
mation on other principles than it was begun,) every 
one knows, that not only the chief promoters of 
thiat work, but many others, whose conscience^ 
would not dispense with Popery, were forced, for 
fear of persecution, to change climates; from whence 
returning at the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's 
reign, many of them, who had been in France, and 
at Greneva, brought back the rigid opinions and 
imperious discipUne of Calvin, to graft upon our 
Reformation ;* which, though they cunningly con- 
cealed at first, (as well knowing how nauseously 
that drug would go down in a lawful monarchy, 
which was prescribed for a rebellious common- 
wealth,) yet they always kept it in reserve ; and 
were never wanting to themselves, either in court 
or parliament, when either they had any prospect 
of a numerous party of fanatic members in the one, 

sun suddenly let in upon the inmates of an obscure dungeon. It 
was not till the sacred Scriptures, with the expositions of judi- 
cious pastors, became a part of the regular education of the peo* 
pie, that their minds were duly prepared to make the proper use 
of that inestimable gift. 

The fate of Tyndal was melancholy enough. By the influence 
of Henry, he was seized at Brussels ; and, under pretence of his . 
being a pragmatical incendiary, one of the first translators of the 
New Testament was strangled and burned, at Filford Castle, 
about twenty miles from Antwerp, in 1536. His last words were> 
*^ Lord, open the King of England's eyes." 

* Heylin says, the reformation would have rested with the first 
public liturgy, confirmed by act of parliament in the second and 
third years c^ Edward VI., " if Calvin's pragmatical spirit had 
not interposed. He first began to quarrel at some passages in 
this sacred liturgy, and afterwards never left soliciting the Lord 
Protector, and practising, by his agents, on the court, the coun- 
try, and the universities, till he had laid the first foundation of 
the Zuiuglian faction, who laboured nothing more than innova- 
tion both in doctrine and discipline." — Ecctesia Restaurata, Ad- 
dress to the Reader. 


or the encouragement of any favourite in the other, 
whose covetousness was gaping at the patrimony 
of the church. They who will consult the works 
of our venerable Hooker,* or the account of his 
Life, or more particularly the letter written to him 
on this subject, by George Cranmer,f may see by 
what gradations they proceeded. From the dislike 
of cap and surplice, the very next step was admo- 
nitions to the parliament against the whole govern- 
ment ecclesiastical ; then came out volumes in Eng- 
lish and Latin in defence of their tenets ; and im- 

* The learned and judicious Richard Hooker, one of the most 
eminent divines of the Church of England, wrote a treatise upon 
Ecclesiastical Policy, in which he vindicates that communion, 
both against the Puritans and Papists. It is in ^ght books ; five 
were published during Hooker's lifetime, and the other three 
after his death. The last are supposed to be interpolated, as they 
bear some passages tending to impugn the doctrine of non-resist- 
ance, which at that time was a shibboleth of orthodoxy. Hooker 
died in I6OO. His Life, to which Dryden refers, was-written by 
the worthy Isaac Walton, better known as the author of the 
*' Complete Angler ;" a delightful work, where the innocent sim- 
plicity, unclouded cheerfulness, and real worth of the author^ 
beam through every page. His Life of Hooker was published 
about 1662. See Hawkins's edition of the Complete Angler, In- 
troduction, p. 19. AthenoB Oxon, vol. 1. p. 302. 

f George Cranmer, whom Wood calls a gentleman of singular 
hopes, was grandson to Edmund Cranmer, Arch-deacon of Can- 
terbury, brother to Thomas the Primate, who suffered martyrdom 
in the reign of Queen Mary. He was bred to state affairs un- 
der Secretary Davison ; and after serving in various diplomatic 
capacities, became Secretary to Lord Mojintjoy, Lieutenant^ of 
Ireland. On the 13th November, I6OO, Cranmer was slain in 
a skirmish at Carlingford between the English and the forces of 
Tyrone. Camden thus records his death : '' Cecidii iamen ex An^ 
sUs^ prosier alios, Cranmerus, Proregi ah episiolis^ et ipsi eo notnine 
Jonge charissimus," He wrote to Hooker, under whom he had 
studied, the letter mentioned in the text concerning the new 
church discipline, which is dated February 1598. It is inserted 
by Walton in his Life of Hooker. Alketice Oxon. Vol. L p. 306. 


mediately practices were set on foot to erect their 
discipline without authority. Those not succeed- 
ing, satire and railing was the next ; and Martin 
Mar-prelate,f (the Marvel of those times,) was the 
first Presbyterian scribbler, who sanctified libels and 
scurrility to the use of the good old cause ; which 
was done, (says my author,) upon this account, 
that their serious treatises having been fully answer- 
ed and refuted, they might compass by railing what 
thfy had lost by reasoning ; and, when their cause 
was sunk in court and parliament, they might at 
least hedge in a stake amongst the rabble, for to 
their ignorance all things are wit which are abu- 
sive ; but if church and state were made the theme, 
then the doctoral degree of wit was to be taken at 
Billingsgate ; even the most saintlike of the party, 
though they durst not excuse this contempt and 
vilifying of the government, yet were pleased, and 

t John Penry, or Ap Itoiry, better known by the name of Mar- 
tin Mar-prelate^ or Mai^riest^ as having been a plague to the 
bishops and clergy of his time. He was a native of Wales, and 
originally a sub-sizer of Peter-house^ in Cambridge. Afterwards 
he obtained the degree of Master of Arts in Oxford^ and, having 
taken cnrders, was for sbme time a regular clergyman. But being 
a person " full of Welch bloody of a hot and restless head," An- 
thony Wood tells us, he became a furious Anabaptist, and the 
most bitter enemy to the Church of England that appeared in 
the long reign of Queen Elizabeth. He wrote a great number 
of pestilent pamphlets, with burlesque titles ; such as, " Oh, read 
over John Bridges, for it is a worthy work. Printed over sea, in 
Europe, within two furlongs of a bouncing Priest, at the cost of 
Martin Mar-prelate, gent." All his writings were filled with the 
most virulent invectives against the Episcopal church. At length, 
being apprehended, and tried for writing and publishing infa- 
mous books and libels against the established religion, he was 
condemned and executed at St Thomas a Watering, 29th May, 
1 593. Dryden compares him to Andrew Marvel, the well known 
opposer of the court, during the reign of Charles II. 


grinned at it with a pious smile, and called it a 
judgment of God against the hierarchy. Thus sec- 
taries, we may see, were bom with teeth, foul- 
mouthed, and scurrilous from their infancy ; and if 
spiritual pride, venom, violence, contempt of supe- 
riors, and slander, had been the marks of orthodox 
belief, the presbytery, and the rest of our schis- 
matics, which are their spawn, were always the 
most visible church in the Christian world.* 

It is true, the government was too strong at tfkat 
time for a rebellion ; but, to shew what proficiency 
they had made in Calvin's school, even then their 
mouths watered at it ; for two of their gifted bro- 
therhood, Hacket and Coppinger, as the story tells 
us, got up in a pease-cart and harangued the peo- 
ple, to dispose them to an insurrection, and to esta- 
blish their discipline by force ;f so that, however 

* The court writers at this period were anxious to fix upon the 
Presbyterians and the non-conformists in general, the anti-mo- 
narchical principles of the fanatics, who brought Charles I. to the 
scaffold.^ Their arguments may be seen at length in a book enti- 
tled, •' Seditious Teachers, ungodly Preachers exemplified." 
These charges are carried too far ; yet as the Episcopalians made 
church and king their watch word, the fanatics, on the contrary, 
in England, and the Huguenots in France, had a certain tendency 
to oppose monarchical government. One of their authors, as early 
as ue reign of Queen Elizabeth, maintains, that if kings and 
princes refused to reform religion, the inferior magistrates or 
people, by direction of the ministry, might lawfully, and ought, 
if need required, even by force of arms, to reform it themselves. 
"^Whittingham's Preface to Goodman on Obedience to Superior 

+ The freaks of these unhappy enthusiasts may be seen in the 
histories of the time. Hacket, a man of some learning, had his 
brain turned by enthusiasm, and seduced Coppinger and Arthing- 
ton, two fanatic preachers, by his example and exhortation, to 
sally forth into the streets of London, where he proclaimed him- 
self to be the Messiah, and Coppinger and Arthington, his pro- 
phet of mercy, and his prophet of judgment. As they continued 
to utter the most horrible blasphemies, and to exhort the citizens 


it comes about, that now they celebrate Queen 
Elizabeth's birth-night, as that of their saint and 
patroness ; yet then they were for doing the work 
of the Lord by arms against her ;f and in all pro- 
bability they wanted but a fanatic lord-mayor, and 
two sheriffs of their party, to have compassed it4 

Our venerable Hooker, after many admonitions 
which he had given them, towards the end of his 
preface breaks out into this prophetic speech : 
" There is in every one of these considerations most 
just cause to fear, lest our haste to embrace a thing 
of so perilous consequence, (meaning the presby te- 
rian discipline,) should cause posterity to feel those 
evils, which as yet are more easy for us to prevent, 
than they would be for them to remedy." 

How fatally this Cassandra has foretold, we know 
too well by sad experience. The seeds were sown 
in the time of Queen Elizabeth ; the bloody harvest 
ripened in the reign of King Charles the Martyr ; 
and, because all the sheaves could not be carried off 
without shedding some of the loose grains, another 

to take arms^ to further the reign of Hacket^ who, they said^ was 
come with his fan in his hand to purify the discipline of the church 
of England^ they were seized and lodged in prison. Hacket was 
executed^ though fitter for Bedlam^ persisting to the last in the 
most insane blasphemy. The discipline of the prison restored 
Arthington to his senses^ and he pubhshed a recantation, express- 
ing great remorse for his errors. Coppinger starved himself to 
death in jail. This explosion of madness took place in 1591. 
Hacket is stated by Camden to have been a determmed enemy to 
Queen Elizabeth^ and to have stabbed her picture with his dagger. 

t The birth-night of Queen Elizabetn was that which the 
Whigs chose to solemnize, by their grand pope-burnings and 
processions ; considering her as the patron of the Protestant re^ 
ligion. Yet Queen Elizabeth was very severe against the Puri- 
tans, and passed several statutes against them. 

X See the notes on ^' Absalom and Achitophel/' Vol. IX. pages 
280, 404. 


crop is too like to follow ; nay, I fear it is unavoicia- 
ble, if the oonventiders be permitted still to scatty*. 
A man may be suffered to quote an adversary to 
our religion, when he speaks truth ; and it is the 
observation of Maimbourg,* in his ** History of Cal- 
vinism,^ that wherever that discipline was planted 
and embraced, rebellion, civil war, and misery, at- 
tended it. And how indeed should it happen other- 
wise ? Reformation of church and state has always 
been the ground of our divisions in England. While 
we were Papists, our Holy Father rid us, by pretend- 
ing authorit]^ out of the Scriptures to depose prin- 
ces ; when we shook off his authority, the sectaries 
furnished themselves with the same weapons, and 
out of the same magazine, the Bible ; so that the 
Scriptures, which are in themselves the greatest se- 
curity of governors, as commanding express obedi- 
ence to them, are now turned to their destruction ; 
and never since the Reformation has there wanted 
a text of their interpreting to authorize a rebel. And 
it is to be noted by the way, that the doctrines of 
king-killing and deposing, which have been taken 
up only by the worst party of the Papists, the most 
frohtless flatterers of the Pope's authority, have 
been espoused, defended, and are still maintained, 
by the whole body of non-conformists and republi- 
cans. It is but dubbing themselves the people of 
God, which it is the interest of their preachers to 

* Lewis Maimbourg, a secularized Jesuit, wrote a History of 
Calvinism, in which he charges upon the Huguenots the princi- 
pal share of the guilt of the civil wars of France. He charges 
them particularly with the conspiracies of Amboise and Meaux 
against the crown ; and alleges, it was their intention, by the as- 
sistance of England^ and the Protestant states of Germany, with 
whom they corresponded^ to establish a republic in France. His 
arguments are controverted in an '' Apology for the Protestants 
ofjfrance, in six letters." London, l683. 


tell them they are, and their own interest to be- 
lieve, and after that, they cannot dip into the Bible, 
but one text or another will turn up for their pur- 
pose : if they are under persecution, as they call it, 
then that is a mark of their election ; if they flou- 
rish, then God works miracles for their deliverance, 
and the saints are to possess the earth. 

They may think themselves to be too roughly 
handled in this paper ; but I, who know best how 
far I could have gone on this subject, must be bold 
to tell them they are spared ; though, at the same 
time, I am not ignorant, that they- interpret the 
mildness of a writer to them, as they do the mercy 
of the government ; in the one they think it fear, 
and conclude it weakness in the other. The best 
way for them to confute me is, as I before advised 
the Papists, to disclaim their principles, and re- 
nounce their practices. We shall all be glad to 
think them true Englishmen, when they obey the 
king ; and true Protestants, when they conform to 
the church- discipline. 

It remains that I acquaint the reader, that the 
verses were written for an ingenious young gentle- 
man, my friend, upon his translation of " The Cri- 
ticaKHistory of the Old Testament," composed by 
the learned Father Simon :* the verses, therefore, 
are addressed to the translator of that wopk, and 
the style of them is, what it ought to be, episto- 

* Pere Richard Simon was an excellent Orientalist He was 
an oratorian priest^ and published, besides the work here men- 
tioned, ^' A critical History of the New Testament," and a new 
Version of it, which was censured by Cardinal de Noailles, Arch- 
bishop of Paris, and opposed by Bossuet, the learned Bishop of- 
Meaux. Pere Simon was an able biblical critic, an excellent 
scholar, and one of the most learned divines of his age. 

t Derrick erroneously states this young gentleman to have 

32 PREFACE, &iC. 

If any one be so lamentable a critic as to require 
the smoothness, the numbers, and the turn of he- 
roic poetry in this poem, I must tell him, that if 
he has not read Horace, I have studied him, and 
hope the style of his epistles is not ill imitated here. 
The expressions of a poem, designed purely for in- 
struction, ought to be plain and natural, and yet 
majestic ; for here the poet is presumed to be a kind 
of Lawgiver, and those three qualities, which I have 
named, are proper to the legislative style. The 
florid, elevated, and figurative way, is for the pas- 
sions ; for love and hatred, fear and anger, are be- 
gotten in the soul, by shewing their objects out of 
their true proportion, either greater than the life, 
or less ; but instruction is to be given by shewing 
them what they naturally are. A man is to be 
cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth. 

been Hampden^ son of the famous parliamentary leader, who was 
deeply engaged in the Rye-house plot, and some years afterwards 
killed himself. Dryden was not likely, in the very hottest of his 
political controversy, to be on very intimate habits with a leader 
of the Whigs, much less to inscribe to him a poem, the preface of 
which, at least, is levelled against the most zealous of that party. 
Besides, the translation of Pere Simon's Critical Histoiy, which 
was published in 1682, bears to have been made by H. D. which 
initials can hardly stand for John Hampden* Mr Malone con- 
jectures he may have been of the Digby family, or perhaps Mr 
Dodswell, who translated one of Plutarch's lives. But it appears, 
from a poem addressed to the Translator by Duke, that his name 
was Henry Dickinson, probably a son of Edmund Dickinson, a 
physician, and author of the Delphi Phenecizantes, and other 
learned pieces. jHherne Oxon. Vol. II. p. 946. There is another 
copy of verses, addressed to the Translator of the " Critical His- 
tory" in Dryden's " Miscellanies." So that Dickinson*s work 
seems to have attracted much notice at the time of its publication. 





Bs60K£> you ftlftves^ you idle vennin^ go^ 
Fly from the scourges^ and your master know ; 
Let free^ impartial men from Dryden learn 
Mysterious secrets of hi^h concern^ 
And weighty truths^ sohd convincing sense^ 
Explain'd by unafibcted eloquencei 

"What can you^ Reverend Levi^ here take ill ? 
Men still had &ults^ and men will have them still ; 
He that hath none> and lives as angels do. 
Must be an angel ; — ^but what's that to you ? 

While mighty Lewis finds the Pope too great. 
And dreads the yoke of his imposing seat. 
Our sects a more tyrannic power assume. 
And would for scorpions change the rods of Rome* 
That church detain d the legacy divine ; 
Fanatics cast the pearls of heaven to swine : 
What, then, have honest thinking men to do. 
But chuse a mean between the usurping two ? 

Nor can the Egyptian patriarch blame a muse. 
Which for his fiimness does his heat excuse ; 
Whatever counsels have approved his creed. 
The pre&oe, sure, was his own act and deed. 
Our church will have the preface read, youll say : 
'Tis true, but so she will the Apocrypha ; 
And such as can believe them freely may. 

But did that God, so little understood. 
Whose darling attribute is being good. 
From the dark womb of the rude chaos bring 
Such various creatures, and make man their king, 

VOL. X. C 



Yet leave his fitvourite^ man^ his chiefest care^ 
More wretched than the vilest insects are P 

O ! how much happier and more safe are they. 
If helpless millions must be doom'd a prey 
To yelling furies^ and for ever hum 
In that sad place, from whence is no return. 
For unbelief in one they never knew. 
Or for not doing what they could not do ! ^ 

The very fiends know for what crime they fell, ' 
And so do all their followers that rebel ; 
If then a blind, well-meaning Indian strav, 
Sliall the great gulph be shew d him for the way ? 

For better ends our kind Redeemer died, 
Or the fall'n angels' rooms will be but ill supplied. 

That Christ, who at the great deciding day, 
(For he declares what he resolves to say^ 
Will damn the goats for their ill-natured faults. 
And save the sheep for actions, not for thoughts. 
Hath too much mercy to send them to hell. 
For humble charity, and hoping welL 

To what stupidity are zealots grown^ 
Whose inhumanitv, profusely shown 
In damning crowds of souls, may damn their own ! 

Ill err, at least, on the securer side, 
A convert free from malice and from pride. 







Great is the task, and worthy such a muse. 

To do faith rieht, yet reason (usabuse. 

How cheerfully the squI does take its flight 

On faith's strong win^s, guided by reason's light ! 

But reason does in vain her beams display. 

Shewing to th' place, whence first she came, the way 

If Peter s heirs must still hold fast the key. 

The house, which many mansions should contain. 

Formed by the great wise Architect in vain. 

Of disproportion justly we. accuse. 

If the strait gate still entrance must refuse. 





The only free enriching port God made, 1 

What shameful monopoly did invade ? > 

One factious company engross'd'the trade. J 

Thou to the distant shore hast safely sail'd^ 

Where the hest pilots have so often fafl'd. 

Freely we now may huy the pearl of price ;* 1 

The happy land abounds with fragrant spice^ > 

And nothing is forbidden there but vice. J 

Thou best Columbus to the unknown world ! 

Mountains of doubt^ that in thy way were hurled^ 

Thy generous faith has bravely overcome^ 

And made heaven truly our familiar home. 

Let crowds impossibilities receive ; 

Who cannot think^ ought not to disbelieve. 

Let them pay tithes^ and hood-wink'd go to heaven : 

But sure the Quaker could not be forgiven^ 

Had not the derk^ who hates lay-policy^ 

Found out^ to countervail the injury. 

Swearings a trade of which they are not free. 

Too long has captive reason been enslaved^ 

By visions scared^ and airy phantasms braved^ 

List'ning to each proud enthusiastic fool^ 

Pretending oonadence^ but des^ning rule ; 

Whilst law^ form, interest, ignorance, design. 

Did in the holy cheat togetho' join. 

Like vain astrologers, gazing on the skies. 

We fall, and did not dare to trust our eyen. 

'Tis time at last to fix the trembling soul. 

And by thy compass to point out the pole ; 

All men agree in what is to be done. 

And each man's heart his table is of stone. 

Where he the god- writ character may view ; 

Were it as needful, faith had been so too. 

Oh, that our greatest fault were humble doubt. 

And that we were more just, though less devout ! 

What reverence should we pay thy sacred rhymes. 

Who, in these factious too-buievmg times. 

Has taught us to obey, and to distrust ; 

Yet, to ourselves, our king, and Grod, prove just. 

Thou want'st not praise from an insuring friend ; 

The poor to thee on double interest lend. 

So strong thy reasons; and so dear thy sense. 

They bnng, like day, their own brieht evidence ; 

Yet, whilst mysterious truths to light you bring, 

And heavenly things in heavenly numbers sing. 

The joyful younger choir may <aap the wing. 






'Tis nobly done^ a layman's creed profcsty 
When all our faith of late hung on a priest ; 
His doubtful words, like oracles received^ 
And^ when we could not understand^ beUeved. 
Triumphant fiiith now takes a nobler course^ 
'Tis gentle^ but resists intruding force. 
Weak reason may pretend an awful sway. 
And consistories charge her to obey ; 
estrange nonsense^ to confine the sacred Dove^ 
And narrow rules prescribe how he shall love^ 
And how upon the barren waters move.) 
But she rejects and scorns their proud pretence^ 
And^ whilst those grovling things depend on sense. 
She mounts on certain wings, and flies on high. 
And looks upon a dazzling mystery. 
With fixed, and steady, and an eagle's eye. 
Great kin^ of verse, that dost instruct and please. 
As Orpheus soften'd the rude savages ; 
And gently freest us from a double care. 
The bold Socinian, and the papal chair : 
Thy judgment is correct, thy fancy young. 
Thy nimibers, as thy generous fidui, are strong : 
Whilst through dark prejudice they force their way. 
Our souls sh&e off the night, and view the day. 
We live secure from mad enthusiasts' rage. 
And fond tradition, now grown blind with age. 
Let &ctious and ambitious souls repine, *^ 

Thy reason's strong, and generous thy design ; > 

And always to do well is only thine. 3 

Tho. Creech. 




Dim as the borrpw'd beams of mooiyind stars 

To lonely^ weary, wandering travellers, 

Is reason to the soul : and as, on high. 

Those rolling fires discover but the sky. 

Not light us here ; so reason's glimmering ray "I 

Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, > 

But guide us upwards to a better day. } 

And as those nightly tapers disappear. 

When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere ; 

So pale grows reason at religion's sight. 

So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light. 

Some few,, whose lamp shone brighter^ have been led 

From cause to cause, to nature's sacred head. 

And found that one First Principle must be : 

But what, or who, that universal He ; 

Whether some soul, encompassing this ball. 

Unmade, unmoved ; yet making, moving all ; 

Or various atoms' interfering dance 

Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance ; 

Or this great All was from eternity, — 

Not even the Stagyrite himself could see. 

And Epicurus guess'd, as well as he. 


As blindly groped they for a future state. 
As rashly judged of providence and fate ; 
But least of all could their endeavours find 
What most concem'd the good of human kind ; 
For happiness was never to be found. 
But vanish'd from them like enchanted ground.* 
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd ; 
This very little accident destroyed : 
The wiser madmeii did for virtue tdl, 
A thorny, or, at best, a barren soil : 
In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep ; "I 
But found their line too short, the well too deep, > 
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep. J 
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll. 
Without a centre where to fix the soul : 
In this wild maase their vain endeavours end :— ^ 
How can the less the ^eater comprehend ? 
Or finite reason reach mfinity ? 
For what could fathom God Were more than he.- 
The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground ; 
Cries Eupfxa ! the mighty secret's found : 
God is that spring of good, supreme and best. 
We made to ser,ve, and in that service blest. 
If so, some rules of worship must be given. 
Distributed alike to all by heaven ; 
Else God were partial, and to some denied 
The m^ans his justice should for all provide. 
This general worship is to praise and pray ; 
One part to borrow blessings, one to pay ; 
And when firail nature slides into offence. 
The sacrifice for crimes is penitence. 

* The author applies the same simile to the use of rhyme m 
tragedy ; 

Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound. 
And natute flies him like enchanted ground. 

Prologtte to Aur^ng'Zebf* 


Yet since the effects of providence, we find, 
Are variously dispensed to human kind ; 
That vice triumphs, and virtue suffers here, 
A brand that sovereign justice cannot bear ; 
Our reason prompts ua to a future state. 
The last appeal from fortune and fi*om fate. 
Where Good's all-righteous ways will be declared ; 
The bad meet punishment, the good reward; 
Thus man by his own strength to heaven would 
And would not be obliged to God for more. 
Vain wretched creature, how art thou misled, 
To think thy wit these god-like notions bred ! 
These truths are not the product of thy mind. 
But dropt from heaven, and of a nobler kind. 
Reveal'd religion first informed thy sight, 
And reason saw not till faith sprung the light. 
Hence all thy natural worship takes the source ; 
'Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse. 
Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear. 
Which so obscure to heathens did appear ? 
Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found. 
Nor he whose wisdom oracles renowned. 
Hast thou a wit so deep, or so sublime. 
Or canst thou lower dive, or higher dimb ? 
Canst thou by reason more of godhead know 
Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero ? 
Those giant wits, in happier ages bom. 
When arms and arts did Greece and Rome adorn. 
Knew no such system ; no such piles could raise 
Of natural worship, built <in prayer and praise 
To one sole God ; 

Nor did remorse to expiate sin prescribe. 
But slew their fellow-creatures for a bribe : 
The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence. 
And cruelty and blood was penitence. 


If sheep and oxen could atone for men, 

Ah ! at how cheap a rate the rich might sin ! 

And great oppressors might heaven's wrath beguile, 

By offering his own creatures for a spoil ! 

Darest thou, poor worm, offend Infinity, 

And must the terms of peace be given by thee ? 

Then thou art justice in the last appeal ; 

Thy easy Grod instructs thee to rebel ; 

And, like a king remote and weak, must take 

What satisfaction thou art pleased to make. 

But if there be a Power too just and strong. 
To wink at crimes, and bear unpunished wrong ; 
Xiook humbly upward, see his will disclose 
The forfeit first, and then the fine impose ; 
A mulct thy povierty could never pay. 
Had not Eternal Wisdom found the way. 
And with celestial wealth supplied thy store ; 
I£is justice makes the fine, his mercy quits the score. 
See' God descending in thy human frame ; 
The offended suffenng in the offender's name ; 
All thy misdeeds to him imputed see. 
And all his righteousness devolved on thee. 

For, granting we have sinii'd, and that the o£fence 
Of man is made against Omnipotence, 
Some price that bears proportion must be paid. 
An infinite with infinite be weigh'd. 
See then the Deist lost : remorse for vice 
Not paid, or paid inadequate in price : 
What farther, means can reason now direct. 
Or what relief fi:om human wit expect ? 
That shews us sick; and sadly are we sure 
Still to be sick, till heaven reveal the cure : 
If then heaven's will must needs be understopd. 
Which must, if we want cure, and heaven be good. 
Let all records of will reveal'd be shown ; 
With Scripture all in equal balance thrown, 
And our one sacred Book will be that one. 


Proof needs not here ; for, whether we compare 
That impious, idle, Isuperstitious ware 
Of rites, lustrations, offerings, which before. 
In various ages, various countries bore. 
With christian faith and virtues, we shall find 
None answering the great ends of human kind. 
But this one rule of life ; that shews us best 
How God may be appeased and mortals blest. 
Whether from length of time its worth we draw. 
The word is scarce more ancient than the law : 
Heaven's early care prescribed for every age ; 
First, in the soul, and after, in the page. 
Or, whether more abstractedly we look. 
Or on the writers, or the written book. 
Whence, but from heaven, could men unskilled in arts. 
In several ages bom, in several parts. 
Weave such agreeing truths ? or how, or why. 
Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie ? 
Unask'd their pains, ungrateful their advice. 
Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price. 

If on the bodi itself we cast our view, 
Concurrent heathens prove the story true : 
The doctrine, miracles ; which must convince. 
For heaven in them appeals to human sense ; 
And, though they prove not, they confirm the cause. 
When what i,s taught agrees with nature's laws. 

' Then for the style, majestic and divine. 
It speaks no less than Gk)d in every line ; . 
Commanding words, whose force is still the same 
As the first fiat that produced our frame. 
All faiths, beside, or did by arms ascend. 
Or sense indulged has made mankind their friend ; 
This only doctrine does our lusts oppose. 
Unfed by nature's soil, in which it grows ; 
Cross to our interests, curbing sense, and sin ; 
Oppress'd without, and undermined within. 


It thrives through pain ; it's own tormentors tires, 
And with a stubborn patience still aspires. 
To what can reason such effects assign, 
Transcending nature, but to laws divine ? 
Which in that sacred volume are Contain'd, 
Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordain'd. 

But stay : the Deist here will urge anew. 
No supernatural worship can be true ; 
Because a general law is that alone 
Which must to all, and every where, be known ; 
A style so larjge as not this book can claim. 
Nor aught that bears reveal'd religion's name. 
'Tis said, the sound of a Messiah's birth 
Is gone through all the habitable earth ; 
But still that text must be confined alone 
To what was then inhabited, and known ; 
And what provision could from thence accrue 
To Indian souls, and worlds discover'd new ? 
In other parts it helps, that, ages past. 
The Scriptures there wereknown, and wereembraced, 
Till sin spread once again the shades of night : 
What's that to these who never saw the light ? 

Of all objections this indeed is chief. 
To startle reason, stagger frail belief: 
We grant, 'tis true, that heaven from human 6ense 
Has hid the secret paths of providence ; 
But boundless wisdom, boundlesis mercy, may 
Find even for those bewilder'd souls a way. 
If from his nature foes may pity claim, 
Muchmore may strangers, who ne'erheard his name; 
And, though no name be for salvation known. 
But that of his eternal Son's * alone ; 

* All the editions read Son's, which seems to make a double 
genitive, unless we construe the line to mean^ " the name of his 
Eternal Son's salvation." I own I should have been glad to have 
found an authority for reading Son, 


Who knows how far transcending goodness can 
Extend the merits of that Son to man ? 
Who knows what reasons may his mercy lead. 
Or ignorance invincible may plead ? 
Not only charity bids hope the best. 
But more the great apostle has exprest : 
That, if the Gr^itiles, whom no law inspired. 
By nature did what was by law required ; 
They, who 'the written rule had never known. 
Were to themselves both rule and law alone ; 
To nature's pkin indictment they shall plead. 
And by their conscience be condemn^, or freed. 
Most righteous doom ! because a rule reveal'd 
Is none to those from whom it was conceal'd. 
Then those, who followed reason's dictates right. 
Lived up^ and lifted high their natural light, 
With Socrates may see their Maker's face. 
While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place. 

Nor does it baulk my charity, to find 
The Egyptian Bishop of another mind ; 
For, though his Creed eternal truth contains, 
'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains 
All, who believed not all his zeal required ; 
Unless he first could prove he was inspired. 
Then let us either think he meant to say. 
This faith, where publish'd, was the only way ; 
Or else conclude, that, Arius to confute. 
The good old man, too eager in dispute. 
Flew high ; and, as his christian fury rose, 
Damn'd all for heretics who durst oppose. 

Thus far my charity this path has tried ; 
A much unskilful, but well-meaning guide : 
Yet what they are, even these crude thoughts were 

By reading that which better thou hast read ; 

44 RELIGIO LAiei« 

Thy matchless author's work, which thou, my friend, 
By well translating better dost commend ;* 
Those youthful hours which, of thy equals, most 
In toys have squandered, or in vice have lost. 
Those hours hast thou to nobler use employed. 
And the severe delights of truth enjoy'd. 
Witness this weighty book, in whioi appears 
The crabbed toil of many thoughtful years. 
Spent by thy author, in the sifting care 
0£ rabbins' old sophisticated ware 
From gold divine ; which he who well can sort 
May afterwards make algebra a sport ; 
A treasure which, if country-curates buy, 
They Junius and Tremellius may defy ;+ 
Save pains in various readings and translations. 
And without Hebrew make most leam'd quotations; 
A work so full with various learning fraught. 
So nicely ponder'd, yet so strongly wrought. 
As nature's height and art's last hand required ; 
As much as man could compass, uninspired ; 
Where we may see what errors have beeii made 
Both in the copiers' and translators' trade ; 
How Jewish, Popish, interests have prevail'd. 
And where infallibility has fail'd. 

For some, who have his secret meaning guess'd. 
Have found our author not too much a priest ; 
For fashion-sake he seems to have recourse 
To pope, and councils, and traditions' force ; 
But be that old traditions could subdue. 
Could not but find the weakness of the new : 

* Simon's Critical History of the Old Testament^ translated 
by the young gentleman to whom the poem is addressed. — See 

t Calvinistic divines^ who made translations of the Scripture, 
with commentaries, on which Pere Simon makes learned criti- 



If Scripturp, though derived from heavenly birth, 
Has been but carelessly preserved on earth ; 
If .Gtod's own people, who of God before 
Knew what we know, ^nd had been promised more. 
In fuller terms, of heaven's assisting care. 
And who did neither time nor study spare 
To keep this book untainted, unperplext. 
Let in gross errors to corrupt the text. 
Omitted paragraphs, embroU'd the sense. 
With vain traditions stopt the gaping fence, 
Which every common hand puU'd up with ease, — 
What safety from such brushwood-helps as these ? 
If written words from time are not secured. 
How can we think have oral sounds endured ? 
Which thus transmitted, if one mouth has fail'd. 
Immortal lies on ages are entail'd ; 
And that some such have been, is proved too plain. 
If we consider interest, church, and gain. 

O but, says one, tradition set aside. 
Where can we hope for an unerring guide ? 
For, since the original Scripture has been lost. 
All copies disagreeing, maim'd the most. 
Or Christian faith can have no certain ground. 
Or truth in church-tradition must be found. 

Such an omniscient church we wish indeed ; 
'Twere worth both Testaments, cast in the Creed : 
But if this mother be a guide so sure. 
As can all doubts resolve, all truth secure. 
Then her infallibility as well 
Where copies are corrupt or lame can tell ; 
Restore lost canons with as little pains. 
As truly explicate what still remains ; 
Which yet no council dare pretend to do. 
Unless, like Esdras, they could write it new 
Strange confidence still to interpret true. 
Yet not be sure that all they have explain'd. 
Is in the blest original contain*d. 


More safe, and much more modest 'tis, to say 

God would not leave mankind without a way ; 

And that the Scriptures, though not every where 

Free from corruption, or entire, or clear. 

Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire. 

In all things which our needful faith require. 

If others in the same glass better see, 

'Tis for themselves they look, but not for me ; 

For my salvation must its doom receive. 

Not from what others, but what I believe. 

Must all tradition then be set -aside ? 
This to affirm were ignorance or pride. 
Are there not many points, some needful sure 
To saving faith, that Scripture leaves obsciire ? 
Which every sect will wrest a several way. 
For what one sect interprets, all sects may. 
We hold, and say we prove from Scripture plain. 
That Christ is God ; the bold Socinian 
From the same Scripture urges he's but man.' 
Now what appeal can end the important suit ? 
Both parts talk loudly, but the rule is mute. 

Shall I speak plain, and, in a nation free. 
Assume an honest layman's liberty ? 
I think, according to my little skill. 
To my own mother-church submitting still. 
That many have been saved, and many may. 
Who never heard this question brought in play. 
The unletter'd Christian, who believes in gross. 
Plods on to heaven, and ne'er is at a loss ; 
For the strait gate would be made straiter yet. 
Were none admitted there but men of wit. 

* The Socinians, or followers of Lelius Socinius, denied the 
doctrine of the Trinity and of Redemption. The modem Uni- 
tarians have embraced some of the principles of this sect. 


The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught. 
Born to instruct, as others to be taught. 
Must study well the sacred page ; and see 
Which doctrine, this or that, does best agree 
With the whole tenor of the work divine, 
And plainliest points to heaven's reveal'd design ; 
Which exposition flows from genuine sertse. 
And which is forced by wit and eloquence. 
Not that tradition's parts are useless here. 
When general, old, disinterested, and clear. 
That ancient fathers thus expound the page. 
Gives truth the reverend majesty of age ; 
Confirms its force by bideing every test ; 
For best authorities, next rules, are best ; 
And still the nearer to the spring we go. 
More limpid, more unsoil'd, the waters flow. 
Thus, first, traditions were a proof alone ; 
Could we be certain, such they were, so known ; 
But since some flaws in long descent may be. 
They make not truth, but probability. 
Even Arius and Pelagius durst provoke 
To what the centuries preceding spoke :* 
Such difierence is there in an oft-told tale ; 
But truth by its own sinews will prevail. 
Tradition written, therefore, more commends 
Authority, than what from voice descends ; 
And this, as perfect as its kind can be, 
Rolls down to us the sacred history ; 
Which, from the universal church received. 
Is tried, and, after, for itself believed. 

The partial Papists would infer from hence. 
Their church, in last resort, should judge the sense. 

* The founders of two noted heresies, who, nevertheless,, as the 
poet observes, ventured to appeal to the traditions of the church 
in support of their doctrines. 


But first they would assume, with wonderous art, 
Themselves to be the whole, who are but part 
Of that vast frame, the Churdi ; yet erant they were 
The banders down, can they from mence imer 
A right to interpret ? or, would they, alone 
Who brought the present, claim it for their own ? 
The book's a common largess to mankind. 
Not more for them than every man designed ; 
The welcome news is in the letter found ; 
The carrier's not commission'd to expound. 
It speaks itself, and what it does contain. 
In all things needful to be known, is plain. 

In times o'ergrown with rust and ignorance, 
A gainful trade their clergy did advance ; 
When want of learning kept the laymen low. 
And none but priests were authorized to know ; 
When what small knowledge was, in themdid dwell, 
And he a god, who could but read and spell, — 
Then Mother Church did mightily prevail : 
She parcell'd out the Bible by retail ; ^ 
But still expounded what she sold or gave. 
To keep it in her power to damn and save. 
Scripture was scarce, and, as the market went. 
Poor laymen took salvation on content. 
As needy men take money, good or bad. 
Gk>d's word they had not, but the priest's they had ; 
Yet whate'er false conveyances they made. 
The lawyer still was certain to be paid. 
In those dark times they learn'd their knack so well, 
That by long use they grew infaUible. 
At last, a knowing age began to enquire 
If they the book, or that did them inspire ; 
And, making narrower search, they found, though 

Thatwhat they thought the priest's, was their estate; 
Taught by the will produced, the written word. 
How long they had been cheated on record. 


Then every man, who saw the title fair, 
Claim'd a child's part, and put in for a share ; 
Consulted soberly his private good. 
And saved himself as cheap as e'er he could. 

'Tis true, my friend, — and far be flattery hence, — 
This good had full as bad a consequence ; 
The book thus put in every vulgar hand. 
Which each presumed he best could understand. 
The common rule was made the common prey. 
And at the mercy of the rabble lay. 
The tender page with horny fists was gall'd. 
And he was ^ted most, that loudest bawl'd ; 
The spirit gave the doctoral degree. 
And every member of a company 
Was of his trade and of the Bible free. 
Plain truths enough for needful use they found ; 
But men would still be itching to expound ; 
Each was ambitious of the obscurest place, 
No measure ta'en fi:om knowledge, all from grace. 
Study and pains were now no more their care ; 
Texts were explain'd by fasting and by prayer : 
This was the fruit the private spirit brought, 
Occasion'd by great zeal and little thought. 
While crowds unleam'd, with rude devotion warm. 
About the sacred viands buz and swarm ; 
The fly-blown text creates a crawling brood, 
And turns to maggots what was meant for food. * 

* Perhaps this idea is borrowed from " Hudibras : 

The learned write, an insect breeze 
Is but a mongrel prince of bees. 
That falls berore a storm on cows. 
And stings the founders of his house. 
From whose corrupted flesh, that breed 
Of vermin did at first proceed. 
So, ere the storm of war broke out, 
Rdigion spawn'd a various rout 
Of petulant capricious sects, 
The maggots of corrupted texts, 

VOL. X. D 



A thousand daily sects rise up and die ; 

A thousand more the perish'd race supply ; 

So all we make of heaven's discover'd will. 

Is not to have it, oi to use it ill. 

The danger's much the same ; on several shelves 

If others wreck us, or we wreck ourselves. 

What then remains, but, waiving each extreme, 
The tides of ignorance and pride to stem ; 
Neither so rich a treasure to forego. 
Nor proudly seek beyond our power to know ? 
Faith is not built on disquisitions vain ; 
The things we must believe are few and plain : 
But since men will believe more than they need, 
And every man will make himself a creed. 
In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way 
To learn what unsuspected ancients say ; 
For 'tis not likely we should higher soar 
In search of heaven, than all the church before ; 
Nor can we be deceived, unless we see 
The Scripture and the Fathers disagree. 
If, after all, they stand suspected still, 
(For no man's faith depends upon his will,) 
'Tis some relief, that points, not clearly known. 
Without much hazard may be let alone ; 
And, after hearing what our church can say. 
If still our reason runs another way. 
That private reason 'tis more just to curb. 
Than by disputes the public peace disturb : 
For points obscure are of small use to learn ; 
But common quiet is mankind's concern. 

Thus have I made my own opinions clear. 
Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear ; 
And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chose. 
As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose ; 

That first run all religion down, 
And after every swarm its own. 

Hudibras, Part III. canto 2. 


For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, 
Tom Sternhold's, or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will 

^ * The famous Tom Brown is pleased to droll on this associa- 
tion of persons ; being a part of the punishment which he says 
the Laureat inflicted on Shadwell for presuming to dispute his 
theatrical infallibility. " But, gentlemen^ when I had thus, in 
the plenitude of my power, issued out the above-mentioned de« 
cretal epistles, you cannot imagine what abundance of adversa- 
ries I created myself: some were for appealing to a free unbias- 
sed S3niod of impartial authors ; others were for suing out a quo 
warranto, to examine the validity of my charter. Not to mention 
those of higher quality, I was immediately set upon by the fierce 
Elkanah, the Empress of Morocco's agent, who at that time com- 
manded a party of Moorish horse^ in order to raise the Siege of 
Grenada ; and a fat old gouty gentleman, commonly called the 
King of Basan, who had almost devoured the stage with free quar- 
ter for his men of wit and humourists. But I countermined all 
their designs against my crown and person in a moment ; for I 
presently got the one to be dressed up in a sanbenit, under the 
unsanctified name of Doeg ; the other I coupled myself with his 
namesake Tom Stemhold. Being thus degraded from their poeti- 
cal functions, and become incapable of crowning princes, raising 
ghosts, and offering any more incense of flattery to the living and 
the dead, I delivered them over to the secular arm, to be chasti- 
sed by the furious dapper-wits of the Inns of Court, and the 
young critics of the university. Furthermore, to prevent all in- 
fection of their errors, I directed my monitory letters to the Sieur 
Batterton, advising him to keep no correspondence, either di- 
rectly, or indirectly, with those foresaid <ipostates from sense and 
reason ; adding, that in case of neglect, I would certainly put 
the theatre under an interdict, send a troop of dragoons from 
Drury-Lane to demolish his garrison in Salisbury-court, and ab- 
solve all his subjects, even to the sub-deacons and acolythes of 
the stage, his trusty door-keepers and candle-lighters, from their 
oaths of fealty and aUegjiaxice," -^Reasons for MrBayes* changing 
his Religion, 





Fortunati ambo si quid mea carmina passwit, 
NuUa dies unquam memori vos emmet cevo. 


The death of Charles II. was sudden and unexpected. After 
he had apparently completely subdued the popular party^ and 
was preparing, as -has been confidently alleged, a similar conquest 
over the high-flying followers of the Duke of York, in the midst 
of his present triumph and future projects, he was, on the morn- 
ing of the '2d February, 1684-5, seized with a sudden fit, which 
resembled an apoplexy. He was bled by one King, a chemist, who 
happened to be in waiting, and experienced a temporary relief. 
From the 2d till the 6th, he continued in a languishing state, the 
Duke of York being in constant attendance on his deathbed. On 
the forenoon of the 6th, Charles died, to the general grief of his 
subjects, by whom he was personally beloved, and who had reason 
to fear, that his worst public measures would be followed out 
with more rigour by his successor. 

A numerous host of rhymers stepped forward with their condo- 
lences upon this event.* Among these, we find few eminent names 

* The following Noenia, among others, occur in Mr LuttrdPs Collection : 

" A Pindarick Ode, by Sir F. F. Knight of the Bath." 

*< A Pindarick Ode on the Death of our late Sovereign, with an ancient Pro- 
phecy on his present Majesty, by Afra Behn.*^ 

*< A Poem, humbly dedicated to the Great Pattern of Piety and Virtue, 
Catherine, Queen Dowager, on the Death of her dear Lord and Husband, King 
Charles II. By the Same. (4th April, 1685.)" 

*•' The Vision, a Pindarick Ode, by Edmund Arwaker, M. A." 

*< The Second Part of Ditto, on the Coronation of James and Mary.*' This 
author poured forth a similar effusion upon the death of Queen Mary. 

" A Pindarick Ode on the Death of Charles II., by J. H." 

Ireland*8 Tears to the sacred Memory of our late Dread Sovereign, King 
Charles II., 11th April, 1685.** 

*< Pietas univertitatit Oxonktuit in obitum augustissimi et detideratusimi 
Regit Caroli Secundu" 


besides that of Dryden. Otway, indeed^ has left a poem on the 
subject, called *' Windsor Castle ;" and he began a pastoral^ which, 
fortunately for his reputation^ he left unfinished. * From the laureat 
a deeper tone of lamentation was due. But whether the sense of dis- 
charging a task^ a sense so chilling always to poetical imagination, 
had fettered Dry den's powers^ or from whatever other reason^ his 
funeral pindaric has not been esteemed one of his happiest Ijrric 
effusions. It is devoid of any appearance of deep feeling on the part 
of the author himself. This is the more remarkable^ as themanners 
of Charles were eminently calculated to attract affection^ and Dry- 
den had been admitted to a greater share of royal intercourse than 
is usually necessary to excite the personal attachment of a sub- 
ject to a condescending monarch. But whether Dryden^ as he is 
sometimes believed to have owned^ was unapt to feel or express 
the more tender passions, or whether he saw the character of 
Charles so closely^ as to discern the selfishness of his hollow cour- 
tesy^ it is certain, that the poet seems wonderfully little interested 

Duke, and others, also invoked Melpomene on this mournful occasion : but^ 
perhaps, the most remarkable of all these lamentations is, " The Quaker's Elegy 
on the DeaUi of Charles, late King of England, written by W. P. a nncere lover 
of Charles and James, (31st March, 1685.)" *^ Tears wiped off, a Second Part, 
on the Coronation, i22d April.)" This curious dirge b^ns thus : 

What wondrous change in waking do I find. 
For a strange something does my sense unbind ; 
Truth has pessess'd my darken'd soul all o'ei 
With an unusual light, not known before ; 
And doth inform me, that some star is gone, 
From whose kind influence we had life alone. 
No sooner had this stranger seized my soul. 

But Rachel knock*d, to raise me from my bed, 
And, with a voice of sorrow did condole 

The loss of Charles, whom she declared was dead ; 
Charles dost thou mean we King of England call, 
That lived within the mansion of Whitehall ? 
I Yes^-'tis too true. Sec 

♦ '* Windsor Castle, in a monument to our late sovereign. King Charles 
II.," contains some striking passages. But, for the tenuity of the pastoral, even 
the taste of the age can hardly excuse the author of " Venice Preserved." Fop 
example : 

Ye tender lambs, stray not so fast away ; 

To weep and mourn, let us together stay ; 

0*er all the universe let it be spread. 

That now the shepherd of the flock is dead ; 

The Toyal Pan, that shepherd of the sheep. 

He, wlio to leave his flock did dying weep. 

Is gone ! Ah ! gone, ne'er to return from death's eternal sleep. 


in the sorrowful theme. Even when he mentions his literary in« 
tercourse with the deceased monarchy he does not suppress a mur- 
mur^ that he was niggard in rewarding themuses whom he loved; 

—little was their hire, and light their gain* 

This absence of personal feeling on the part of the author^ 
spreads a coldness over the whole elegy; whidi we regret the less 
as the pensioned monarch ill deserved a deeper lamentation. It is 
chiefly owing to his want of sjrmpathy^ connected with an over in* 
dulgence in conceit^ a fault which immediately flows from the^ 
other^ being an effort of ingenuity to supply the want of pa»eiatf, 
that ihe *' Threnodia Augustalis" has been neglected. We have 
to lament some overstrained metaphors and similes. The^un 
went back ten degrees in the dial of Ahaz ; a miraculous sign tJ^t 
Hezekiah was to live ; and this is compared to ihe Jive days di^- 
rixng which the disease of Charles gained ground^ until it was obvi« 
ous that he was to die. The prayers of the people carrying heaven 
by s^rm^ and almost forcing heaven to revoke its decrees^ is ex« 
travagant^ not to say profane. Yet^ with all its faults of coldness 
and conceit^ this poem seems rather to have been under-rated* 
It appears to great advantage when compared with others on the 
same subject. Otway» who affects a warmer display of passion, a 
particular in which Dryden is said to have acknowledged his su^ 
periority^has &llen into the opposite fault, of describing the death* 
bed rather of a tender husband or lover, attended by his wife or 
mistress, than that of a king waited on by his successor.* Dry* 
den's picture of the duke's grief is much more appropriate and 

Horror in all his pomp was there, 
Mute and magnificent, without a tear, 

•f* We shall here insert the last meeting of the royal brothers, as described 
in ^* Windsor Castle," which the reader may contrast with the same theme in the 
•« Threnodia." 

Here, painter, if thou can*st, thy art improve, 
And show the wonders of fraternal love ; 
How mourning James by fading Charles did stand. 
The dying grasping the surviving hand ; 
How round eadi others necks their arms they cast, 
Moan'd, with endearing murmurings, and embraced ; 
And of their parting pangs such marks did give, 
'Twere hard to guess which yet could longest live. 
Both their sad tongues quite lost the power to speak. 
And their kind hearts seem*d both prepared to break, 


Tlie joy of the people upon the fallacious prospect of the Song's 
recovery is also a striking picture : 

Men met each other with erected look ; 
The steps were higher that they took ; 
Friends to congratulate their friends made haste, 
And long inveterate foes saluted as they past 

There are many other fine passages in the " Threnodia;" though 
the general effect is less impressive than might have been expect- 
ed. The description in the thirteenth stanza, for example, of the 
effects on poetry and literature produced by the Restoration, and 
that of the return of liberty. 

Without whose charms even peace would be 
But a dull quiet slavery, 

are both striking. — The character of Charles ; his wit^ parts^ and 
powers of conversation; his gentle manners, and firmness of dispo* 
sition^ which^ like a well- wrought blade^ kept^ even in yielding^ 
die native toughness of the steely — are all themes of panegyric, 
which, though perhaps exaggerated, are well-chosen, and exquisite- 
ly brought out. It is indeed a peculiar attribute of Dryden's praise, 
diat it is always appropriate; while the gross adulation of his con- 
temporaries gave mdiscriminately the same broad features to all 
their subjects^ and thereby very often converted their intended 
panegyric into satire, not the less bitter because undesi^ed. 
Dryden^ for instance, in this whole poem, has never once men- 
tioned the queen ; sensible that the gaiety of Charles' life and his 
firequent amours rendered her conjugal grief, which some of the 
elegiasts chose to describe in terms approaching to blasphemy, 
an apocryphal, as well as a delicate theme.* He knew that 
praise, to do honour to the giver and receiver, must either have 
a real foundation in desert, or at least what, by the skil^ ma« 
nagement of the poet^ may be easily represented as such. 

* Perhaps the most extraordinary instance of flattery, wrought up to im- 
piety, occurs in Mrs Behn's Address to the Queen on the Death of her Hus- 
band :— - 

Methinks I see you like die queen of heaven. 
To whom all patience and all grace was given 
When the great Lord of life hims^ was laid 
Upon her lap, all wounded, pale, and dead ; 
Transpierced with anguish, even to death transfonn*d. 
So she bewail*d her God, so sighM, so mourn*d, 
So his blest image in her heart remain'd, 
So his blest memory o*«r her soul still reign 'd ; 
She lived the sacred victim to deplore. 
And never km^w, or wish'd a pleasure more; 


Having discussed the melancholy part of his subject^ the poet^ 
according to the approved custom in such cases^ nnds cause for 
rejoicing in the succession of James, as he had mourned over the 
death of his predecessor. From his firmness of character and 
supposed military talents^ the poet prophesies a warlike and vic- 
torious reign : a sad instance how seldom the poetic and prophetic 
character^ so often claimed^ are united in the same individual ! for 
James, as is well known, far from conquering foreign kingdoms^ 
did not draw the sword even to defend his own. But very difie- 
rent events were expected^ and augured^ by the shoal of versifiers^ 
who now rushed forward to gratulate his accession.* 

The pindaric measure^ in which the '^Threnodia Augustalis" is 
written^ contains nothing pleasing to modem ears. The rhymes 
are occasionally so far disjoined^ that^ like a fashionable married 
couple, they have nothing of union but the name. The inequalities 
of the verse are also violent^ and remind us of ascending a broken 
and unequal stair-case. But the age had been accustomed to 
this rythm, which^ however improperly, was considered as a ge- 
nuine imitation of the style of Pmdar. It must also be owned tnat 
whatever, for a little way, Dryden uses a more regular measure, 
he displays all his usual command of harmony. The thirteenth 
istanza, for example, isashappilvdistinffuishedby melodyof rhyme, 
as we have already observed it is emment in beauty of poetry. 

The Latin titlje of this poem, like that of the lleligto Laid, 
savours somewhat of affectation ; and has been taxed by Jobnaon 
as not strictly classical, a more unpardonable faultt 

« These axe even more numerous than the Elegiasts on Charles's death. In 
the LuttreU Collection there are the following rare pieces :— 

** PanegyrU Jacobi serenistimi^ ^c, regi ipso die inaugurtUionit*** 

*« A Poem on Do. by R. Philips." 

*< On Do. by a Young Gentleman." 

** A Panegjrrick on Do. by the Author of the Plea for Succession." 

•• A New Song on Do." 

*< A Poem on Do. by John Philips." 

** A Poem upon the Coronation, by J. Baber, Esq." 

** A Pindarique to dieir Sacred Majesties on their Coronation." 

*< A Poem on Do. by R. Mansell, Gent;" 

** A Panegyrick on Do. by Peter Ker :" with whose rapturous invitation to 
the ships to strand themselves for joy, we shall conclude the list : 

Let subjects sing, bells ring, and cannons roar ; 
And every ship come dancing to the shore. 

f Dryden, perhaps, recollected the poem of Fitzpayne Fisher on Cromwell^s 
death, entitled, Threnodia TriumphaUs in obitum serenisiinU Nottri PHncipit 
Olimnt Anglics Scotice Hiberniai cum dominoHmibut ubicunquejacentibus Nu' 


Mv learned friend, Dr Adam, has favoured me with the follow* 
ing defence of Dry den's phrase : ''With respect to the tide which 
that great poet gives to his elegy on the death of Charles^ making 
allowance for ^e taste of the times and the licence of poets in 
framing names, I see no just foundation for Johnson's criticism od 
the epiSiet Augustalis. Threnodia is a word purely Greeks used 
by no Latin author ; and AugustaUs denotes, ' in nonour of Au- 
gustus;' thus, ludi AuguHales, games instituted in honour of Att< 
ffustus, Tac, An. 1,15 and54 ; so sacerdoies vel sodales Atsgustala, 
u>. and 2, 83. Hist. 2, 95. Now, as Augustus was a name given 
to the succeeding emperors, I see no reason, why Augusialis may 
not be used to si^iify, ' in honour of any king.' Besides the very 
wcnrd Augustus denotes, * venerable, august, royal :' and theie- 
fore Tkrenodia Augustatts may properly be put for^ * An Elegy 
in honour of an august Prince.'*' 

The full title declared the poem to be written '^ by John Dry- 
den, servant to his late majesty, and to tiie present king ;" a style 
which our author did not genearaUy assume, but which the occa^ 
sion rendered peculiarly proper. The poem appears to have been 
popular, as it went through two editions in tne courfte of 16S5. 

fcri pratedarit, (Qui obiiU Scptemh, SHo.) UU HufetuUt pattkn vietoritfy d 
incredUfUesdomifircuquetuccestuSf Heroico carminCf ntcdnctimpergiriUffwUMr* 
Per Fitzpayncswn PUeatorem* Londiniy 1658. 



Thus long my grief has kept me dumb : 
Sure there's a lethargy in mighty woe. 
Tears stand eongeal'd and cannot flow ; 

And the sad soul retires into her inmost room : 

Tears, for a stroke foreseen, afford relief; 
But, unprovided for a sudden blow^ 
Like Mobe, we marble grow, 
And petrify with griefl 

Our British heaven was all serene. 
No threatening cloud was nigh. 
Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky ; 
We lived as unconcem'd and happily 

As the first age in Nature's golden scene ; 
Supine amidst our flowing store. 
We slept securely, and we dreamt of more ; 
When suddenly the thunder-clap was heard. 
It took us, unprepar'd, and out of guard. 
Already lost before we fear'd. 

The amazing news of Charles at once were spread. 


At once the general voice declared, 
" Our gracious prince was dead." 
No sickness known before, no slow disease. 
To soften grief by just degrees ; 
But, like an hurricane on Indian seas. 
The tempest rose ; 
An unexpected burst of woes,* 
With scarce a breathing space betwixt. 
This now becalmed, and perishing the next. 
As if great Atlas from his height 
Should sink beneath his heavenly weight. 
And, with a mighty flaw, the flaming wall. 

As once it shall. 
Should gape immense, and, rushing down, over- 
whelm this nether ball ; 
So swift and so surprising was our fear : 
Our Atlas fell indeed ; but Hercules was near, f 


His pious brother, sure the best 

Who ever bore that name. 
Was newly risen from his rest. 

And, with a fervent flame. 
His usual morning vows had just addrest. 

For his dear sovereign's health ; 
And hoped to have them heard. 
In long increase of years. 

In honour, fame, and. wealth : 

Guiltless of greatness, thus he always pray'd. 

Nor knew nor wish'd those vows he made. 

On his own head shpuld be repaid. 

* Note I. 

t Alluding to the fable of Hercules supporting the heavenly 
sphere when Atlas was fatigued. 


Soon as the ill-omen'd rumour reached his ear, 

(111 news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,) 

Who can describe the amazement of his face ! 
Horror in all his pomp was there. 
Mute and magnificent, without a tear ; 
And then the hero first was seen to fear. 
Half unarray'd he ran to his relief. 
So hasty and so artless was his grief : 
Approaching greatness met him with her charms 

Of power and future state ; 

But look'd so ghastly in a brother's fate. 
He shook her fi*om his arms. 
Arrived within the mournful room, he saw 

A wild distraction, void of awe. 
And arbitrary grief unbounded by a law. 

God's image, God's anointed, lay 
Without motion, pulse, or breath, 

A senseless lump of sacred clay. 
An image now of death. 
Amidst his sad attendants' groans and cries. 

The lines of that adored forgiving face. 

Distorted from their native grace ; 
An iron slumber sat on his majestic eyes. 
The pious Duke — Forbear, audacious muse ! 
No terms thy feeble art can use 
Are able to adorn so vast a woe. 
The grief of all the rest like subject-grief did show. 

His, like a sovereign's, did transcend ; 
No wife, no brother, such a grief could know. 
Nor any name but friend. 


O wondrous changes of a fatal scene, 

Still varying to the last ! 

Heaven, though its hard decree was past, 
Seem'd pointing to a gracious turn again : 

And death's uplifted arm arrested in its haste. 


Heaven half repented of the doom. 
And almost grieved it had foreseen^ 

What by foresight it will'd eternally to come. 
Mercy above did hourly plead 

For her resemblance here below, 
And mild forgiveness intercede 

To stop the coming blow. 
New miracles approach'd the etherial throne. 
Such as his wond'rous life had oft and lately known, 
And urged that still they might be shown. 

On earth his pious brother pray'd aiid vow'd. 
Renouncing greatness at so dear a rate. 

Himself defending what he could, 
From all the glories of his future fate. 

With him the innumerable crowd 
Of armed prayers 
Knock'd at the gates of heaven, and knocked aloud ; 

The first well-meaning rude petitioners.* 
All for his life assail'd the throne. 
All would have bribed the skies by offering up their 

So great a throng, not heaven itself could bar ; 
'Twas almost borne by force, as in the Giants' War. 
The prayers,. at least, for his reprieve were heard ; 
His death, like Hezekiah's, was deferr'd. 

Against the sun the shadow went ; 

Five days, those five degrees were lent. 

To form our patience, and prepare the event.f 
The second causes took the swift command. 
The medicinal head, the ready hand. 
All eager to perform their part ;:j: 
All but eternal doom was conquer'd by their art. 

* A very ill-timed sarcasm on those, who petitioned Charles 
to call his parliament. See p. 311. 
t 2 Kings, chap. xx. 
t Note II. 

3^BBuBNOX)lA AVaVHTAhlB. 65 

Once more the fleeting soul came back . 

To inspire the mortal frame ; 
'And in the body took a doubtful stand. 

Doubtful and hovering, like expiring flame. 
That mounts and falls by turns, and trembles o'er 
the brand, 


The joyful short-lived news soon spread around, ♦ 
Took the same train, the same impetuous bound : 

The drooping town in smiles again was drest. 

Gladness in every face exprest, 

Their eyes before their tongues confest. 
Men met each other with erected look. 
The steps were higher that they took ; 
Friends to congratulate their friends made haste. 
And long inveterate foes saluted as they past. 
Above the rest heroic James appeared. 
Exalted more, because he more had fear'd. 
His manly heart, whose noble pride . , ; 

Was still above 

Dissembled hate, or varnish'd -Jove, 
Its more than common transport could not hide ; 
But like an eagre f rode in triumph o'er the tide. 

♦ Note III. 

t An eagre is a tide swelling above another tide, which I have 
myself observed in the river Trent.— Dryden. This species of 
combat between the current and the tide is well kliown on the 
Severn ; and, so far back as the days of William of Malmesbury, 
was called the Higre, Unhappy is the vessel, says that ancient 
historian, on whom its force falls laterally. De Gestis Pantifi" 
cum. Lib. IV.— Drayton describes the same river. 

-With whose tumultuous w^ves 

Shut up in narrower bounds, thie Higre wildly raves, 

And frights the straggling flocks the neighbouring shores to fly. 

A fur as from th« main it comes with hideous cry ; 

VOL. X. E 


Thus, in alternate course, 
The tyrant passions, hope and fear, 
Did in extremes appear. 

And flash'd upon the soul with eqixal force. 
Thus, at half ebb, a rolling sea 

Returns, and wins upon the shore ; 

The watcfry herd, amighted at the roar. 
Rest on their fins awhile, and stay. 
Then backward take their wcmdering way : 
The prophet wonders more than they. 

At prodigies but rarely seen before. 
And cries, — a king must fall, or kingdoms diange 
thdr 5way, 

Such were our counter-tides at land, and so 

Presaging of the fetal blow. 

In their prodigious ebb and flow. 
The royal soul, that, like the labouring moon. 
By charms of art was hurried down. 
Forced with regret to leave her native sph^e. 
Came but a while on liking* here ; 
Soon weariied of the painful strife. 
And made but faint essays of life : 
J An evening light 

Soon shut in night ; 
A strong distemper, and a weak relief. 
Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief. 

And on tho a^gry front the coiled foam doth bring. 
The billows 'gainst the bank when fiercely it doth fling. 
Hurls up the scaly ooze, and makes the scaly brood 
Leap madding to the land alighted from the flood ; 
overturns the toiling barch whose steersman does not launch. 
And thrust the furrowing beak into her ravening paunch. 

Poly^Olbion, Song VII. 

* To engage upon liking, {an ima^e rather too familiar for the 
occasion,) is to take a temporary trial of a service, or business, 
ivith licence to quit it at pleasure. 



The sons of art all med'cines tried. 
And every noble remedy applied ; 

With emulation each essay'd 

His utmost skill ; nay, more, they pray'd ; 

Neverwaslosinggamewithbetterconductplay'd ; 
Death never won a stake with greater toil. 
Nor e'er was fate so near a foil. 
But, like a fortress on a rock. 
The impregnable disease their vain attempts did 

They mined it near, they batter'd from afer 
With all the camion of the medicinal war ; 
No gentle means could be essay'd, 
'Twas beyond parley when the siege was kid. 

The extremest ways they first ordain. 

Prescribing such intolerable pain. 

As none but Cassar could sustain, 

Undaunted Caesar underwent 

The malice of their art, nor bent 

Beneath whate'er their pious rigoiu: could invent. 
In five such days he suffer'd more 
Than any sufier'd in his reign before ; 

More, infinitely more, than he 

Against the worst of rebels could decree^ 

A traitor, or twice pardon'd enemy. 
Now art was tired without success. 
No racks could make the stubborn malady confess. 

The Vain insurancers of life. 
And he who most performed, and promised less. 

Even Short* himself, forsook the unequal strife. 
Death and despair was in their looks. 
No longer they consult their memories or books ; 
Like helpless friends, who view from shore 

* Note IV. 


The labouring ship, and hear the tempest roar ; 

So stoocV they with their arms across, 
Not to assist, but to deplore 

The inevitable loss. 


Death was denounced ; that frightful sound 

Which even the best can hardly bear. 

He took the summons void of fear. 
And unconcern'dly cast his eyes around. 

As if to find and dare the grisly challenger. 
What death could do he lately tried. 
When in four days he more than died. * 

The same assurance all his words did grace ; 

The same majestic mildness held its place ; 

Nor lost the nionarch in his dying face. 
Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave. 
He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave. 


As if some angel had been sent 
To lengthen out his government. 
And to foretel as many years again. 
As he had number'd in his happy reign ; 

So cheerfully he took the doom 
Of his departing breath. 
Nor shrunk nor stept aside for death ; 
But, with unalter'd pace, kept on. 

Providing for events to come. 
When he resign'd the throne. 
Still he maintain'd his kingly state, - 
And grew familiar with his fate. 
Kind, good, and gracious, to the last. 
On all he loved before his dying beams he cast. 
Oh, truly good, and truly great. 
For glorious as he rose, benignly so he set ! 



All that on earth he held most dear. 

He recommended to his care. 
To whom both heaven 
The right had given, 
And his own love bequeath'd supreme command :♦ 
He took and prest that ever-loyal hand, i 

Which could, in peace, secure his reign ; 

Which could, in wars, his powe» maintain ; 

That hand on which no plighted vows were ever 
Well, for so great a trust, he chose 

A prince, who never disobeyd ; 

Not when the most severe commands were laid ; 

Nor want, nor exile, with his duty welgh'd zf 
A prince on whom, if heaven its eyes could close. 
The welfare of the world it safely might repose. 


That king, who lived to Grod's own heart. 

Yet less serenely died than he ; 

Charles left behind no harsh decree. 
For schoolmen, with laborious art. 

To sa^ne from cruelty : X 
Those, for whom love could no excuses frame. 
He graciously forgot to name. 

• Note V. 

t Alluding to the Duke's banishment to Flanders. See note 
on *' Absalom and Achitophel/' Vol. IX. p. SH^ 

:{: The testament of King David^ by which he bequeathed to 
his son the charge of executing vengeance on those enemies 
whom he had spared during his life^ has been much canvassed 
bv divines. I indulge myself in a tribute to a most venerable 
character, when I state, that the most ingenious discourses I 
ever heard from the pulpit, were upon this and other parts of 
David's conduct, in a series of lectures by the late Reverend 
Dr John Erskine, one of the ministers of the Old Greyfriars 
church in Edinburgh. 


Thus far my muse, though rudely, has design'd 
Some faint resemblance ot his godlike mind ; 
But neither pen nor pencil can express 
The parting brother's tenderness ; 
Though that's a term too mean and low ; 
The blest above a kinder word may know : 
But what they did, and what they said. 
The monarch who triumphant went. 
The militant who stidd, 

Like painters, when their heightening arts are 
I cast into a shade. 
That all-forgiving king, 

The type of Him above, 
That inexhausted spring 
Of clemency and love. 
Himself to his next self accused. 
And asked that pardon which he ne'er refused ; 
For faults not his, for guilt and crimes 
Of godless men, and of rebellious times ; 
For an hard exile, kindly meant. 
When his ungrateful country sent 
Their best CamiUus into banishment. 
And forced thdr sovereign's act, they could not his 

Oh how much rather, had that injured chief 
Kepeated all his siifferings past. 
Than hear a p4rdon begg'd at last. 
Which, given, could give the dying no relief ! 
He bent, he sunk beneath his grief; 
His dauntless heart would fain have held 
From weeping, but his eyes rebell'd. 
Perhaps the godlike hero, in his breast, 
, Disdain'd, or was ashamed to show. 

So weak, so womanish a woe. 
Which yet the brother and the friend so plenteous- 
ly confest. 




• • * 

Amidst that silent shower^ the royal xmnd 

An easy passage founds 
And left its sacr^ earth behind; 

Nor murmuring groan expressed, nor labouring 
Nor any least tumultuous breath ; 
Calm was his Me, and quiet was his death. 

Soft as those gentle whispers were. 

In which the Almighty did appear ; 

By the still voice the prophet knew him there. 
That peace which made thy prosperous reign to 

That peace thou leavest to thy imperial line, 
That peace. Oh happy shade, be ever thine ! 

For all those joys thy restoration brought. 
For all tiie miracles it wrought. 

For ^ the healing balm thy mercy pour'd 
Into the nation's bleeding wound,* * 
And care, that after kept it sound ; 

For numerous blessings yearly sbower'd. 
And property with plenty crowned ; 
For freedom, stUl maintain'd alive. 
Freedom, which in no other land will thrive. 
Freedom, an English subject's sole prerogative. 
Without whose charms, even peace would be 
But a dull quiet slavery ; — 

For these, and more, accept our pious praise ; 
'Tis all the subsidy 

The present age can raise, 
The rest is charged on late posterity. 

♦ King Charles' first parliament^ from passing the Act of In- 
demnity^ and taking ouer measures to drown all angry recollec- 
tion pf the Civil Wars^ was cidled the Healing Parliament. 


Posterity is charged the more. 

Because the late abounding store 
To them, and to their heirs, is sttU entaiM by thee. 

Succession of a long descent, 
Which chastely in the channels ran. 
And from our demi-gods begap, 

Equal almost to time in its extent, 
Through hazards numberless and great. 

Thou bast derived this mighty blessing down. 

And fix'd the fairest gem that decks the imperial 
crown. : ^ ■ 

Not faction, when it shook thy regal seat. 
Not senates, insolently loud, ' 

Those echoes of a thoughtless crowd. 
Not foreign or domestic treachery, " ; 

Could warp thy soul to their unjust decree. ^ 
So much thy foes thy manly mind mistook, 
Who judged it by the mildness of thy look; 
Like a n^dft tempered sword, it' bent at wffl. 
But kept the native toughness of the sted; 


Be true, O Clio, to thy hero's name ! 

But draw him strictly so. 

That all who view the piece may know. 
He needs no trappings of fictitious fame. 

The load's too weighty ; thou may'st chuse 

Some parts of praise, and some refuse ; 
Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish 

than the muse. 
In scanty truth thou hast confined 
The virtues of a royal mind. 
Forgiving, bounteous, humble, just, and kind : 
His conversation, wit, and parts. 
His knowledge in the noblest useful arts. 
Were such, dead authors could not give ; 
But habitudes of those who live. 
Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive : 

He drain'd from all, and all they knew ; 
His apprehension quick, his judgment true. 
That the most learn'd, -with shame, confess. 
His knowledge more, his reading only less. 


Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign, 

What wonder, if the kindly beams he shed 
Revived the drooping arts ^ain. 

If science raised her head. 

And soft humanity, that from rebellion fled. 
Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before ; 

But all uncultivated lay 
Out of the solar walk, and heaven's high way;* 
With rank Greneva weeds run o*er, 
And cockle, at the best, amidst the corn it bore : 
The royal husbandman appeared. 

And plough'd, and sow'd, and till'd ; 
The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd. 
And blest the obedient field. 
When straight a double harvest rose. 
Such as the swarthy Indian mows. 
Or happier climates near the Line, 
Or paradise manured, and drest by hands divine. 


As when the new-born phoenix takes his way. 

His rich paternal regions to survey. 

Of airy choristers a numerous train 

Attend his wonderous progress o'er the plain ; 

So, rising from his father's urn. 

So glorious did our Charles return ; 

♦ A similar line occurs in the Annus MirabUls, St. 160. 

Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high- way. 
The expression is originally Virgil's : 

Extra anni, tolisqug vias. 


The officious musea came along, 
A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young ; 
The muse, that mourns hhn now,ms happy tnumpl 

Even they could thrive in his auspicious reign ; 
And such a plenteous crop they bore 

Of purest and well-winnow'd grain. 
As Britain never knew befc»re. 

Though little was their hire, and light their gain, 
Yet somewhat to their share he threw ; 
Fed from his hand, they sung and flew. 
Like birds of paradise, that lived on morning dew. 
O, never let their lays his name forget ! 
The pension of a prince's praise is great. 
Live then, thou great encourager of arts. 
Live ever in our thankful hearts ; 
Live blest above, almost invoked below ; 
Live and receive this pious vow. 
Our patron once, our guardian angel now ! 
Thou Fabius of a sinking state. 
Who didst by wise delays divert our fate. 
When faction like a tempest rose. 
In death's most hideous form. 
Then art to rage thou didst oppose. 
To weather out the storm ; 
Not quitting thy supreme command. 
Thou heldst the rudder with a steady hand. 
Till safely on the shore the bark did land ; 
The bark, that all our blessings brought. 
Charged with thyself and James, a doubly-royal 


Oh frail estate of human things. 
And slippery hopes below ! 
Now to our cost your emptiness we know ; 

* See the Astraea Redux. 


{"or *tis a lesson dearly bought^ 

Assurance here is never to be sought 

The best, aiid best beloved of kings, 

And best deserving to be so^ 

When scarce he had escaped the fatal blow 

Of faction and conspiracy. 

Death did his promised hopes destroy ; 

He toird, he gained, but lived not to enjoy. 

What mists of Providence are these 

Through which we cannot see ! 

So saints, bv supernatural power set free. 

Are left at last in martyrdom to die ; 

Such is the end of oft repeated miracles. — 

Forgive me, heaven, that impious thought ! 

*Twas grief for Charles, to madness wrought. 

That questioned thy supreme decree ! 
Thou didst his gracious reign prolong. 
Even in thy saints' and angels' wrong. 

His fellow-dtizens of immortality. 
For twelve long years of exile bom. 
Twice twelve we numbered since his blest return : 
So strictly wer^t thou just to pay. 
Even to the driblet of a day.* 
Yet still we murmur, and complain 
The quails and manna should no longer rain : 
Those miracles 'twas needless to renew ; 
The chosen flock has now the promised land in view. 


A warlike prince ascends the regal state, 
A prince long exercised by fate : 
Long may he keep, though he obtains it late ! 

* Reckcming from the death of his father, Charles had reign- 
ed thirty-six years and eight days ; and, counting from his re- 
storation, twenty-four years, eignt months, and nine days. 


Heroes in heaven's peculiat* mould are cast ; 
They, and their poets, are not formed in haste ; 
Man was the first in God's design, and man was 

made the last. 
False heroes, made by flattery so. 
Heaven can strike out, like sparkles, at a blow ; 
But ere a prince is to perfection brought^ 
He costs Omnipotence a second thoughts 

With toil and sweat. 

With hardening cold, and forming heat»! 

The Cyclops did their strokes repeat. 
Before the impenetrable shield was wrought4 
It looks as if the Maker would not own 
The noble work for his, 
Before 'twas tried and found a master^^iece^ 


View then a, monarch ripen'd for a throne. 
Alddes tlms his race began. 
O'er infancy he swiftly ran ; 
The future God at first was more than man : 
Dangers and toils, and Juno's hate. 
Even o'er his cradle lay in wait. 
And there he grappled first with fate ; 
In his young hands the hissing snakes he prest. 
So early was the Deity confest ; 
Thus, by degrees, he rose to Jove's imperial seat ; 
Thus difficulties prove a soul legitimately great. 
Like his, our hero's infancy was tried ; 
Betimes the furies did their snakes provide. 
And to his infant arms oppose 
His father's rebels, and his- brother's foes ; 
The more opprest, the higher still he rose. 
Those were the preludes of his fate. 
That form'd his manhood, to subdue 
The hydra of the many-headed hissing crew. 



As after Numa's peaceful reign. 

The martial Aneus* did the sceptre wield, 
Furbish'd the rusty sword again. 

Resumed the long-forgotten shield, 

And led the Latins to the dusty field ; 
So James the drowsy genius^ wakes 

Of Britain long entranced in charms, 

Restiff and slumbering on its arms ; 
'Tis roused, and, with a new-strung nerve, the spear 

already shakes. 
No neighing of the warrior steeds, 
No drum, or louder trumpet, needs 
To inspire the coward, warm the cold ; 
His voice, his sole appearance, makes them bold. 
Gaul and Batavia dread the impending blow ; 
Too well the vigour of that arm they know ; 
They lick the dust, and crouch beneath their fatal 

Long may they fear this awful prince. 

And not provoke his lingering sword ; 
Peace is their only sure defence. 

Their best security his word. 
In all the changes of his doubtful state. 
His truth, like heaverfs, was kept inviolate ; 
For hini to promise is to make it fate. 
His valour can triumph o'er land and main ; 
With broken oaths his fame he will not stain ; 
With conquest basely bought, and with inglorious 

♦ Ancus Martius, who succeeded the peaceM Numa Pompi< 
lius as King of Rome. 



For once, O heaven, unfold thy adamantine book; 
And let his wondering senate see. 
If not thy firm immutable decree, 
At least the second page of strong contingaicy. 
Such as consists with wills, originally free. 

Let them with glad amazement look 
On what their happiness may be ; 

Let them not still be obstinately blind. 

Still to divert the good thou hast design'd^ 
Or, with maUgnant penury. 
To starve the royal virtues of his mind« 
Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test ; 
Oh give them to believe, and they are surely blest 
They do ; and with a distant view I see 
The amended Vows of English loyalty ; 
And all beyond that object, there appears 
The lon^ retinue of a prosperous reign, 

A senes of successful years. 
In orderly array, a martial, manly train. 

Behold e'en the remoter shores, 
A conquering navy proudly spread ; 

The British cannon formidably roars. 
While, starting from his oozy bed. 
The asserted Ocean rears his reverend head. 
To view and recognize his ancient Lord again ; 

And, with a wUling hand, restores 
The fasces of the main. 

• Note VIII. 





An uneccpeoied burst qfwoes.'-^V. 6^ 

Charles IL enjoyed excelleiitlieBlth^ and was partknilarly care- 
ful to preserve it by constant exercise. His danger, therefore, fell 
like a thunderbolt on his people, whose hearts were gained by his 
easy manners and good humour, and who considered, diat the 
worst apprehensions they had ever entertained during his rcdgn, 
arose from the rel%ion and disposition of his successor. The 
mingled passions of affection ana fear produced a wonderful sen* 
sation on the nation. The people were so passionately concerned, 
that North says, and appeals to all who recollected the time for 
the truth of his averment, that it was rare to see a person walk* 
ing the street with dry eyes. Examen. p. 647. 

Note II. 

The second causes took the swift oommandf 
The medicinal head, the ready hand, 
AU eager to perform their part.^-^V. 64. 

If there is safety in the multitude of counsellors, Charles did 
not find it in the multitude of physicians. Nine were in attend- 
ance, all men of eminence ; the presence of the least of whom, 
Le Sage would have said, was fully adequate to account for the 
subsequent catastrophe. They were Sir Thomas Millingtmi, Sir 
Thomas Witherby, Sir Charles Scarborough, Sir Edmund King, 
Doctors Berwick, Charlton, Lower, Short, and Le Fevre. They 
signed a declaration, that the King had died of an apoplexy. 


Note III. 
Thejofffal short'Uved news soon spread around.^-^P. 65. 

An article was published in the Gazette, on the third day of 
the King's illness, importingy '^ That his physicians now concei- 
ved him to be in a state of safety, and that in a few days he would 
be freed from his indisposition." * North tells us, however, on 
the authority of his brother, the Lord Keeper* that the only hope 
which the physicians afforded to the council, was an assurance, 
(joyfully communicated,) that the King was ill of a violent fever. 
The council seeing little consolation in these tidings, one of the 
medical gentlemen explained, by sayin^,^ that they now knew 
what they had to do, which was to administer the cortex. This 
was done while life lasted ^f although some of the physicians 
seem to have deemed the prescription improper ; in which case, 
Charles, after escaping Uie poniards and pistols of the Jesuits^ 
may be said to have fallen a victim to their bark. 

Note IV. 

And he who most perform* d, and promised less. 

Even Short himself,jorsook the unequal strife^^^lP, 67. 

Dr Thomas Short, an eminent physician, who came into the 
court practice when Dr Richard Lower, who formerly epjoyed 
it, embraced the political principles of the Whig party. Shorty 
a Roman Catholic, and himself a Tory, was particularly accepta- 
ble to the Tories. To this circumstance he probably owes the 
compliment paid him by our author, and another from Lord 
Mulgrave to the same purpose. Otway reckons, among his se« 
lected friends. 

Short, beyond what numbers can commend. $ 

Duke has also inscribed to him his translation of the eleventh 
Idy Ilium of Theocritus ; beginning, 

O Short ! no herb nor salve was ever found. 
To ease a lover*s heat, or heal his wound. 

Dr Short, as one of the king's physicians, attended the death- 
bed of Charles, and subscribed the attestation, tJiat he died of an 
apoplexy. Yet there has been ascribed to him an expression of 
dubious import, which caused much disquisition at the time; 

• Ralph, Vol. I. p. 834. 

f Liie of Lord Keeper Guilfoid, p. 253. X Epistle to Mr Duke. 


namely, that the ^' the king had not fair play for his life." Burnet 
says plainly, that *' Short suspected poison^ and talked more free- 
ly of it than any Protestant durst venture to do at the time." He 
adds^ that '' Short himself was taken suddenly ill^ upon taking a 
large draught of wormwood wine, in the house of a Popish patient 
near the Tower ; and while on his death-bed, he told Lower, and 
Millington, and other physicians, that he believed he himself was 
poisoned, for having spoken too freely of the king's death."* Mul- 
grave states the same report in these words, which, coming from a 
professed Tory, are entitled to the greater credit : " I am obliged 
to observe, that the most knowing and most deserving of all his 
physicians did not only believe him poisoned, but thought him- 
self so too, not long after, for having declared his opinion a little 
too boldly."f North, in confutation of this report, has inter- 
preted Short's expression, as meaning nothing more than that the 
ting's malady was mistaken by his physicians, who, by their im- 
proper prescriptions, deprived nature of fair play ; % and he ap- 
peals to all the eminent physicians who attended Dr Short in his 
last illuess, whether he did not fall a victim to his own bold me- 
thod, in using the cortex. Upon the whole, whatever opinion this 
individual physician may have adopted through mistake, or affecta- 
tion of singularity, and whatever credit faction, or indeed popular 
prejudice in general, may have given to such rumours at tne time, 
there appears no solid reason to believe that Charles died of poison. 
Both Burnet and Mulgrave say« that they never hejEird a hint 
that his brother was accessary to such a crime ; and it is very un- 
likely that an^ zealous Catholic should have either opportuni- 
ty, or inclination, to hasten the reign of a prince of that religion, 
by the unsolicited service of poisoning his brother. The other 
physicians, several of whom. Lower, for example, were Whigs, 
as well as Protestants, gave no countenance to this rumour, 
which was circulated by a Catholic. And, as the symptoms of the 
king's disorder are decidedly apoplectic, the report may be added 
to those with which history abounds, and which are raised and 
believed only because an extraordinary end is thought most fit 
for the eminent and powerful. 

Short, as we have incidentally noticed, survived his royal pa- 
tient but a few months. He was succeeded in his practice by 
Ratcliffe, the&mous Tory physician of Queen Anne's reign. 

* Burnet's History of his own Times. End of Book III. 

f Character of Charles II., Sheffield Duke of Buckingham's Work^, Vol. II. 
p. 65. 

X One Dr Stokeham is said to have alleged, that the king's fit was epileptic, 
not apoplectic, and that bleeding was (r.i-cftat/ie^ro wrong. 

vol.. X. r 


Note V. 

All thai on earth he held most dear. 
He recommended to his care. 
To whom both heaven 
The right had given. 
And his own love bequeath'd supreme command. — P. 6S» 

The historical accounts of the dying requests of Charles are 
contradictory and obscure. It seems certain^ that he earnestly re- 
commended his &vourite mistress, the Duchess of Portsmouth^ 
to the protection of his successor. He had always, he said, loved 
her, and he now loved her at the last. The Bishop of Bath pre- 
sented to him his natural son, the Duke of Richmond ; whom he 
blessed, and recommended^ with his other children, to his success 
sor's protection ; adding, ** Do not let poor Nelly * starve." 
He seems to have said nouing of the Duke of Monmouth, once so 
much beloved, and whom, shortly before, he entertained llioughts 
of recalling from banishment, ana replacing infavour; perhaps he 
thought any recommendation to James of a rival so hated would 
be ineffectual. Burnet says he spoke not a word of the queen. 
Echard, on the contrary, affirms, that, at the exhortation of the 
Bishop of Bath, Charles sent for the queen, and asked and recei- 
ved her pardon for the injuries he had done her bed.t In Foun- 
tainhalVs Manuscript, the queen is said to have sent a message, re- 
questing his pardon if she had ever offended him : '^ Alas, poor 
lady I" replied the dying monarch, '* she never offended me ; I 
have too often injured her." | This account seems more proba- 
ble than that of Echard ; for so public a circumstance, as a per« 
sonal visit from the queen to her husband's death-bed, could hard- 
ly have been disputed by contemporaries. 

Note VI. 

The officious mtises came along, 
A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young ; 
The muse, that mourns him now, his happy tnumph ^ffg.— P. 73. 

In Diyden's Life, we had occasion to remark the effect of the 
Restoration upon literature. It was. not certainly its least impor- 

• Nell Gwyn. t Echard's History, p. 10i6. 

t Dalrymple*s Memoirs, 8vo. vol. L p. 66. 


tant benefit, that it opened our poet's own way to distinction ; 
which is thus celebrated by Baber; 

•till blest years brought Caesar home again, 

Dryden to purpose never drew his pen. 
He, happy favourite of the tuneful nine ! 
Came with an early oflfering tff your shrine ; 
Embalm'd in deathless verseAhe nionarch*s fame ; 
Verse, which shall keep it fresh in youthful prime. 
When Rustal*s sacred gift must yidd to time. 

Note VII. 

Faiik is a Christian's and a subject* s iest.'^F, 78. 

James^ as well as his poet^ was not slack in intimating to his 
subjects^ that he expected them to possess a proper portion of this 
saving virtue. And^ that they might not want an opportunity of 
exercising it^ he was pleased^ by his own royal proclamation^ to 
continue the payment of the duties of the custom-house^ which 
had been granted by parliament only during his brother's life. 





'Antiquam exquirite mairem 

•Et vera incessu patuit Dea, Virg. 



In the Life of Dryden, there is an attempt to trace the progress 
and changes of those religious opinions^ by which he was unfor- 
tunately conducted into the errors of Popery. With all the 
zeal of a new convert^ he seems to have been impatient to invite 
others to follow his example, by detailing, in poetry, the arguments 
which had appeared to him unanswerable. " Tne Hind and the 
Panther" is the offspring oT that rage for proselytism, which is a pe- 
culiar attribute of his new mother church. The author is anxious, 
ifi the preface, to represent this poem as a task which he had vo- 
luntarily undertaken, without receiving even the subject from any 
one. His assertion seems worthy of full credit ; for although it 
was tlie most earnest desire of James II. to employ every possible 
mode for the conversion of his subjects, there is room to believe, 
that, if the poem had been 'written under his direction, the tone 
adopted by Dryden towards the sectaries would have been much 
more mild. It is a well-known point of history, that, in order to 
procure as many friends as possible to the repeal of the Test act 
and penal laws against the Catholics, James extended indul- 
gence to the Puritans and sectarian non-confom^ists, the ancient 
enemies of his person, his family, and monarchial establishments 
in general. Dryden obviously was not in this court secret ; the 
purpose of which was to unite those congregations, whom he has 
described under the parable of bloody bears, boars, wolves, foxes, 
& a common interest with the Hind, against the exclusive pri- 
vileges of the Panther and her subjects. His work was written 
with the precisely opposite intention of recommending an union 
between the Catholics and the church of England ; at least, of 
persuading the latter to throw down the barriers, by which the 


former were kept out of state emplo3rinents. Such an union had at 
one time been deemed practicable ; and^ in 1685^ pamphlets had 
been published, seriously exhorting the church of England to a 
league with the Catholics^ in order to root out the sectaries^ as 
common enemies to both. The steady adherence of the church 
of England to Protestant principles^ rendered all hopes of such an 
union abortive; and, while Dry den was composing his poem upon 
this deserted plan, James was taking different steps to accomplish 
the main purpose both of the poet and monarch. 

The power of the crown to dispense, at pleasure, with tbe esta- 
blished laws of the kingdom, had been often asserted^ and some- 
times exercised, by former English monarchs. A king was entit- 
led, the favourers of prerogative argued, to pardon the breach of 
a statute, when committed ; why not, therefore, tosuspend its ef- 
fect by a dispensation a priori, or by a general suspension of the 
law ? which was only doing in general, what he was confessedly 
empowered to do in particular cases. But a doctrine so pernici- 
ous to liberty was never allowed to take root in the constitution ; 
and theVonfounding the prerogativeof extending mercy to indivi- 
dual criminals, with that of annulling the law under which they 
had been condenmed^ was a fallacy easily detected and refuted. 
Charles IL twice attempted to assert his supposed privilege of 
suspending the penal laws, by granting a general toleration ; and 
he nad, in both cases, been obliged to retract, by the remonstrances 
of Parliament.* But his successor, who conceived that his power 
was situated oh a more firm basis^ and who was naturally obsti- 
nate in his resolutions, was not swayed by this recollection. He 
took every opportunity to exercise the power of dispensing with 
the laws, requiring Catholics to take the test agreeable to act of 
Parliament. He asserted his right to do so in his speech to the 
Parliament, on 9th November, 1 6*85 ; he despised the remon- 
strances of both houses, upon so flagrant ^nd open a violation of 
the law ; and he endeavoured, by a packed bench, and a feigned 
action at law, to extort a judicial ratification of ^his dispensing 
power. At length, not contented with granting dispensations to 
individuals, the king resolved at once to suspend the operation of 
all penal statutes, which required conformity with the church of 
England, as well as of the Test act. 

On the 4th of April, l687, came forth the memorable Declara- 
tion of Indulgence, in favour of all non-conformists of whatever 
persuasion ; by which they were not only protected in the full 
exercise of their various forms of religion, but might, without con- 

• In the year 1663 and 1674. See Vol. IX. p. 448. 


formity, be admitted to all offices in the state. With what conse- 
quences this act of absolute power was attended^ the history of 
the Revolution makes us fully acquainted; for it is surelyimne- 
cessary to add^ that the Indulgence occasioned the petition and 
trial of the bishops^ the most important incident in that moment* 
ous period. 

About a fortnight after the publishing of this Declaration of In* 
dulgence> our author's poem made its appearance ; being licensed 
on the 11 th April, 1687^ and published a few days after, tf it was 
undertaken without the knowledge of the court, it was calculated, 
on its appearance, to secure the royal countenance and approba* 
tion. Accordingly, as soon as it was published in England, a se« 
cond edition was thrown off at a printmg office in Holyroodhouse, 
Edinburgh, then maintainedfor the express piurpose of dissemina- 
ting such treatises as were best calculated to serve the Catholic 
cause.* If the Pr.otestant dissenters ever cast their eyes upon pro- 
fane poetry, " The Hind and the Panther" must liave appeared 
to them a perilous commentary on the king's declaration ; since 
it shews clearly, that the Catholic interest alone was what the 
Catholic king and poet had at heart, and that, however the for- 
mer might now find himself obliged to court their favour, .to 
strengthen his party against the established church, the deep re- 
membrance of ancient feuds and injuries was still cherished, and 
the desire of vengeance on the fanatics neither sated nor subdued. 
In composing this poem, it may be naturally presumed, that 
Dryden exerted his full powers. He was to justify, in the eyes of 
the world, a step which is always suspicious ; and; by placing be- 
fore the public the arguments by which he had been induced to 
change his religion, he was at once to exculpate himself, and in- 
duce others to follow his example. He chose, for the mode of con- 
veying this instruction, that parabolical form of writing, which 
took its rise perhaps in the East, or rather which, in a greater or 
less degree, is common to all nations. An old author observes, 
that there is ''no species of four-footed beasts, of birds, offish, of 
insects, reptiles, or any other living things, whose nature is not 
found in man. How exactly agreeable to the fox are some men's 
tempers ; whilst others are profest bears in human shape. Here 
you shall meet a crocodile,|who seeks, with feigned tears, to entrap 
you to your ruin ; there a serpent creeps, and winds himself into 
your affections, tUl, on a sudden, when warmed with favours, he 

* Our author was not the only poet who hailed this dawn of toleration ; for 
there is in Luttrell's Collection, ♦* A Congratulatory Poem, dedicated to his 
Majesty, on the late gracious Declaration (9th June 1687 ;) by a Person of Qua- 


"Will bite and sting you to death. Tygers, lions, leopards^ panthers, 
wolves^ and all the monstrous generations of Africa, may be seen 
masquerading in the forms of men; and 'tis not hard for an ob- 
serving mind to see their natural complexions throaffh the bor- 
rowed vizard."* Dryden concaved the idea, of extehdihg to reli- 
gious communities uie supposed resemblance between man and 
the lower animals. Under the name of a «^ milk-white Hind^ im- 
mortal and unchanged/' he described the ufiity, simplicity^ and in- 
nocence of the churchy to which he had become a convert ; and un- 
der that of a Panther, fierce and inexorable towards those of a dif- 
ferent persuasion^ hebodied forth thechurch of England, obstinate 
in defending its palefrom encroachment, bythe penal statutes and 
the Test act.t There wanted not critics to tell him, that he had 
mistaken the character of either communi<m4 The inferior sects 

• Turkish Spy, VoL vui. p. 19. 

•f- Perhaps the poet recollected the attributes ascrihed to the panther by one 
of the fathers : ** PaniheraSf ut Divut Banliiu ait^ eum immani sint ae crudeli 
odio in hominet a ttatura incenses^ in hominum simiilacra furibundce irruunt^ nee 
ahter hominum ejffigiem, quam homines i$po8 dtZace^'aM/.*'— Granateus, Con* 
don. de Tempore, Tom. L p. 492. 

X *^ Only by the way, before we bring D. against D. to the stake, I would 
fain know how Mr Bayes, that so well understood the nature of beasts, came to 
pitdi upon the Hind and the Panther, to signify the church of Rome and the 
church of England ? Doubtless his reply will be, because the hind is a creature 
harmless and innocent ; the panther mischievous and inexorable. Let all this 
be granted ; what is this to the author's absurdity in the choice of his beasts ? For 
the scene of the persecution is Europe, a part of the world which never bred pan- 
thers since the creation of the universe. On the other side, grant his allubioo 
passable, and then he stigmatizes the church of England to be the most cruel 
and most voracious creature that ranges all the Lybian deserts ; — a character, 
which shews him to have a strange mist before his eyes when he reads ecclesias- 
tical history. And then, says he, 

The panther, sure the noblest next the hind, 
And fairest creature of the spotted kind. 

Which is another blunder, cujus contrarinm verum at : For if beauty, strength, 
and courage, advance the value of the several parts of the creation, without ques- 
tion the panther is far to be preferred before the hind, a poor, silly timorous, ill- 
shaped, bobtailed creature, of which a score will hardly purchase the skin of a true 
panther. Had he looked a little farther, Ludolphus would have furnished him 
with a zebra, the most beautiful of all the four-footed creatures in the world, to 
have jcoped with his panther for spots, and with his hind for gentleness and mild- 
ness ; of which one was sdd singly to the Turkish governor of Suaquena for 2000 
Venetian ducats. There had been a beast for him, as pat as a pudding for a 
friar's mouth. But to couple the hind and the panther, was just like sic magna 
parvis componere ; and, therefore, he had better put his hind in a good pasty, or 
reserved her for some more proper allusion ; for this, though his nimble beast 
have four feet, will by no means run quatuor pedibus, though she had a whole 
kennel of hounds at her heels."— 7*^^ RevoHer, a Tragt-comedy, 


are ilescribecl under the emblem of varioiis animals, fierce and dis- 
gustily in proportion to their marc remolb aflinity to the church 
of Rome. Aiul in a diakgoe between the two principal cha- 
racters, the leading aiguments of the controversy between the 
churdies, at least what the poet chose to consider as such, arc 
formally discussed. 

But Dryden's plan is far from coming within the limiu of a fa- 
ble or parable, strictly so called ; for it is strongly objected, that 
the poet has been unable to avoid confounding tlie ml churdies 
themselves with the Hind and the Panther, under which they are 
represented. ««'The hind," as Johnson observes, " at one time is 
afraid to drink at the common brook, because she may be worried ; 
but, walking home with the panther, talks by the way of the Ni- 
cene fathers, and at last declares herself tobe the Catholic church." 
And the same critic complains, ** that the king is now Csesar, and 
now die lion, and that the name Pan is given to the Supreme Be- 
ing." ''The Hind and Panther transversed, or the City and Conn- 
try Mouse," the joint compodtion of Prior and Montague, 
written in ridicule of this poem, turns diiefly upon the incon- 
gruity of the emblems adopted by Diyden, and the inconsis- 
tencies into which his plan had led him.* This ridicule, and 

• The following justification of the plan of the anthors is taken from the pre- 
face, which is believed to have been entirely the oompostion of Monb^ue. 

•' The favourers of ^ The Hind and Panther* will be apt to say in its defence, 
that the hcst things are capable of being turned to ridicule ; that Homer has been 
burlesqued, and Virgfl travestied, without sufiering any thing in their reputation 
from that bufibonery ; and that, in Hke manner, * The Hii^ and the Panther' 
may be an exact poem, though it is the subject of our raillery : But there is this 
difference^ that those aothon are wrestad from their true sense, and this naturally 
falls into ridicule ; there is nothing represented here as monstrous and unnatural, 
which is not'equally so in tfie original.— First, as to the general design ; Is it 
not as easy to imagine two mice bilking coachmen, and supping at ^e Devil, 
as to suppose a hind entertaining the panther at a hermit's cell, discussing the 
greatest mysteries of religion, and telling you her son Rodriguez writ very good 
Spanish ? What can be more improb^e and oootradictoiy to the rules and 
examples of all ftbles, and to the very design and use of them ? They were first 
begun, and raised to the hij^est perfection, in the eastern countries, where they 
wrote in signs, and spoke in parableB, and delivered the most useful precepts in 
delightful stories ; which, for their aptness, were entertaining to the most judi- 
cious, and led the vulgar into understanding by surprizing them with their no- 
velty, and fixing their attention. All their fiddes carry a double meaning ; the 
story is one and entire ; the characters the same throug^iout, not broken or 
changed, and always oonfbnnahlie to the nature of the creatures they introduce. 
They never tdl you, that the dog, whidi snapt at a shadow, lost his troop of 
horse ; that would be unintelligible ; a piece of flesh is proper for him to drop, 
and the reader will apply it to manldnd : They would not say that the daw, who 
was so proud of her borrowed plumes, looked very ridiculous, when Rodriguez 
came and took away all the book but the 17th, 84^, and 25th chapters, which 


the criticism on which it is founded, seems^ however, to be car- 
ried a little too for. If a fable, or parable, is to be entirely and 
exclusively limited to a detail whidi may suit the commcm ac- 

shti stole from him. But this is his new way of telling a story, and confounding 
the moral and the fable together. 

Befoire die woid was wriUeiif said the hind. 
Our Saviour preachM the fidth to all manldnd. 

What relation has the hind to our Saviour ? or what notion have we of a pan- 
therms Bible ? If you say he means the ehurch, how does the church feedon 
lawns, or range in the forest ? Let it be always a church, or always the doven- 
footed beast, for we cannot bear his shifting the scene every Hne. If it is abnud 
in comedies to make a peasant talk in the strain of a hero, or a country wench 
use the language of the court, how monstrous is it to make a priest of a hind, 
and a parson of a panther ? To bring them in disputing with uL the ibniialities 
and terms of the school'? Though as to the arguments themselves, those we 
confess are suited to the capacity of the beasts ; and if we would suppose a hind 
expressing herself about these matters, she would talk at that xate.^* 

The render may be curious to see a 'Specimen of the manner in whidi these 
two applauded wits encountered Diyden*s controversial poem, with such eminent 
success, that a contemporary author has said, '* that * The City and Countiy 
Mouse* ruined the reputation of the divine, as the ^ Rehearsal* ruined the rq^- 
tation of the poet*** The pUn is a dialogue between Bayes, and Smith, and 
•Johnson, his old friends in the ** Rehearral ;** the{K>et recites to them a new 
work, in which the Popish and English churches are represented as the dty and 
country mouse, the former spotted, the latter milk-white. The following is a 
specimen both of the poetry and dialogue : 

" Bayes. [Reads,] With these allurements. Spotted did invite. 

From hermit*8 cdl, the female prosdyte. 
Oh, with what ease we follow such a guide. 
Where souls are s^^ed, and senses gratified ! 

<* Now, would not you think she*s going ? but, egad, you're mistaken ; you 
shall hear a long argument about infallibility before she stir yet : 

But here the White, by observation wise, 
Who long on heaven had fixed her prying eyes, 
W^th thoughtful countenance, and grave remark, 
Said, *^ Or my judgment fails me, or *tis dark ; 
Lest, therefore, we should stray, and not go right, 
Through the brown horror of the starless night. 
Hast thou Infallibility, that wight ?'* 
Sternly the savage grinn*d, and thus replied, 
** That mice may err, was never yet denied.** 
*•* That I deny,'* said the immortal dame, 
** There is a guide, — Gad, I've forgot his name,— 

* Preface to the Second Part of *< The Reasons of Mr Bayes changing his 


tions and properties of the animals^ or things introduced in it, 
we strike out fit)m the class some which have always been held 
the most beautiful examples of that style of fiction. It is surely as 

Who tives in Heaven or Rome, the Lord knows where ; 
Had we but him, sweet-heart, we could not err.— 
But hark ye, sister, this is but a whim. 
For still we want a guide to find out him.*' 

** Here, you see, I don*t trouble myself to keep on the narration, but write 
White speaks, or Dapple speaks, by the side. But when I get any noble thought, 
which I envy a mouse should say, I dap it down in my own person, with a poeta 
loquitur ; which, take notice, is a surer sign of a fine thing in my writings, than a 
hand in the margent anywhere else.^-Wdl now, says White, 

What need we find him ? we have certain proof 
That he is somewhere, ^me, and that's enough ; 
For if there is a guide that knows the way, 
Although we know not him, we cannot stray. 

** That's true, egad : Well said, White.— You see her adversary has nothing 
to^say for herself; and, therefore, to confirm the victory, she shall make a simile. 

Smith. yf^Ji then, I find nmilies are as good after victory, as after a sur- 

Bayet. Every jot, egad $ or rather better. Well, she can do it two ways ; either, 
about emission or recept^n of light, or else about Epsom waters : But I think 
the last is most familiar ; therefore speak, my pretty one. [iZ^oif.] 

As though 'tis controverted in the school, 
If waters pass by urine, or by stool ; 
Shall we, who are philosophers, thence gather. 
From this dissention, that they work by neither ? 

" And, egad, she's in the right on't ; but, mind now, she comes upon her scoop. 

All this I did, your arguments to try. 

<* And, egad, if they had been never so good, this next lin^ confutes 'em. 

Hear, and be dumb, thou wretch, that guide am I. 

'* There's a surprize for you now !— How sneakingly t'other looks !— Was not 
that pretty now., to make her ask for a guide first, and tell her she was one ? 
Who could have thought that this little mouse had the Pope, and a whole gene- 
ral council, in her belly ?— -Now Dapple had nothing to say io this ; and, there- 
fore, you'll see she grows peevish, t-'^^^'^*! 

Come leave your cracking tricks ; and, as they say, 
Use not that barber that trims time, delay ;— 
Which, egad, is new, and my own. 

I've eyes as well as you to find the way."— 



ea9y to ccmoeive a Hind and Panther discussing points of religion, 
as that the trees of the forest should assemble together to chuse 
a king^ invite different trees to accept of that dignity, and, finally, 
make choice of a bramble. Yet no one ever hesitates to pronounce 
Jotham's Parable of the Trees one of the finest which ever was 


Then qn they jogg*d ; aiicU since an hour of talk 
Might cut a banter on the tedious walk, 
** As I remember,** said the sober Mouse, 
" I've heard much talk of the Wits* Coffee-house.** 
** Thither,** says Brindle, ^* thou shalt go, and see 
/ Priests sipping coffee, niarks and poets tea ; 

Here, rugged frieze ; there, quality well drest ; 
These, baffling the Grand Seigneur ; those, the Test; 
And here shrewd guesses made, and reasons given. 
That human laws were never made in heaven* 
But, above all, what shall oblige thy sight. 
And fill thy eye-balls with a vast delight. 
Is the poetic Judge of sacred wit,* 
Who does i*the darkness of his glory sit. 
And as the moon, who first receives the light 
With which she makes these nether regions bright, 
So does he shine, reflecting from afar ^ 

The rays he borrow*d from a better star ; 
For rules, which from Corneille and Rapin flow, 
Admired by all the scribbling herd below, 
Proip Frendi tradition while he does dispense, 
Unerring truths, 'tis schism,— « damn*d offence,— 
To question his, or trust your private sense. 

" Ha ! is not that right, Mr Johnson ?— Gad forgive me, he is fast asleep ! 
Oh, the damned stupidity of this age ! Asleep !— -Well, sir, since you*re eio drowsy, 
your humble servant. 

Johtt, Nay, pray, Mr Bayes ! Faith, I heard you all the while.— The white 

Bayes, The white mouse ! Ay, ay, I thought how yon heard me. Your set- 
vant, sir, your servanL 

John, Nay, dear Bayes : Faitli I beg thy pardon, I was up late last night. 
Prithee, lend me a little snuff, and go on. 

Bayes. Go on ! Pox, I don't know where I was.— Well, 1*11 begin. Here, 
mind, now they are both come to town. [Reads^] 

But now at Piccadilly they arrive, 
. And takipg coach, t*wards Teinple-Bar they drive ; 
But, at St Clement's church, eat out the back, 
And^ slipping through the Palsgrave, bilk*d poor hade. 

'* Tliere*3 the utile which ought to be in all poetry. Many a young Templar 
will save his shilling by this stratagem of my mice. 

Smith. Why, wiB any young Templar eat out the back of a coach ? 

Bayes, No, egad ! But you'll grant, it is mighty natur^U for a mou8e."<»^tfii 
sind Panther Trdnsversed. , 

Such was the wit, which, bolstered up by the applause of party, was deemed 
an unanswerable ridicule of Dryden's favourite poem. 

* i. e. Dryden himself. 


written. Or what shall we say of one of the most common among 
iEsop's apologues, which informs us in the outset, that the b'on, 
the ox, the sheep, and the ass, went a hunting together, on condi- 
tion o^di viding equally whatever should be caught ? Yet this and 
many other fables, in which the animals introduced act altogether 
contrary to their nature, are permitted to rank without censure in 
the class which they assume. Nay, it may be questioned whether 
the most proper fables are not those in which the animals are in- 
troduced as acting upon the principles of mankind. For instance, 
if an author be compared to a daw, it is no €able, but a simile ; 
but if a tale be told of a daw who dressed himself in borrowed 
feathers, a thing naturally impossible, the simile becomes a proper 
fable. Perhaps, therefore, it is sufficient for the fabulist, if he 
can point out certain original and leading features of resem- 
blance betwixt his emblems, and that which they are intended to 
represent, and he may be permitted to take considerable latitude 
in their farther approximation. It may be fiirther urged in Dry- 
den's behalf^ that the older poets whom he rNrofessed to imitate^ 
Spenser, for example, in '^ Mother Hubbart's Tale," which he has 
actually quoted, and Chaucer, in that of the '* Nun's Priest's Tale," 
havestepped beyond the simplicity of the ancient &ble, and intro- 
duced a species of mixed composition, between that and down- 
right satire. The names and characters of beasts are only assu« 
med in ^^ Mother Hubbart's Tale," that the satirist might, under 
that slight cloak, say with safety what he durst not otherwise 
have ventUTjed upon ; and in the tale of Chaucer, the learned 
dialogue about ureams is only put into the mouths of a cock 
and hen, to render the ridicule of such disquisitions more p<Ng« 
nant. Ha4 Spenser been asked, why he described the court of 
the lion as exactly similar to that of a human prince, and intro- 
duced the fox as composing madrigals for the courtiers? he 
would hav'e bidden the querist, 

-Yield his sense was all too Mont and base. 

That n*ote without a hound fine footing trace. 

And if this question had been put to the bard of Woodstock, 
why he made his cock an astrologer, and his, hen a physician, 
he would have answered, that his satire might become more ludi- 
crous, by putting these grave speedies into the mouths of such 
animals. Dryden seems to have proposed as his model this looser 
kind of parable ; giving his personages, indeed, the names of 
the Hind and Panther, but reserving to himself the privilege of 
making the supposed animals use the language and arguments 
of the communities they were intended to represent. I must 
own, however, that this licence appears less pardonable in tlic 
First Part, where he professes to usje the majestic turns of heroic 
poetry, than in those which are dedicated to argument and satire. 


Dryden has, in this very jpoem, given us two examples of the 
more pure and correct species of fable. These, which he terms 
in the preface Episodes, are the tale of the Swallows seduced to 
defer their emigration, and that of the Pigeons, who chose a Buz- 
zard for their king.* It is remarkable, that, as the former is by 
much the most complete story, so, although put in the mou^ m 
a representative of the heretical church, it proved eventually to 
contain a truth sorrowful to our author, and those of the Roman 
Catholic persuasion : For, while the Buzzard's elevation (Bishop 
Burnet by name) was not attended with any peculiar evil conise- 
quences to the church of England, the short gleam of Popish 
prosperity was soon overcajst, and the priests and their proselytes 
plunged in reality into all the distress of the Swallows in the 
Panmer's fable. 

In conformity to our author's plan, announced in the prefiice, 
the fable is divided into three parts. The First is dedicated to the 
general description and character of the religious sects, particu- 
larly the churches of Rome and of England. And here Dryden 
has used the more elevated strain of heroic poetry. In the Ser 
cond, the general arguments of the controversy between the two 
churches are agitated, for which purpose a less magnificent style 
of language is adopted. In the Third and last Part, from discuss- 
ing the disputed points of theology, the Hind and Panther de- 
scend to consider the particulars in which their temporal interests 
were judged at this period to interfere with each other. And here 
Dryden has lowered the tone of his verse to that of common con- 
versation. We must admit, with Johnson, that these distinctions 
of style are not always accuratelv adhered to. The First Part has 
familiar lines ; as, for instance, the four with which it concludes : 

Considering her a dvil well-bred beast, 
And more a gentlewoman than the rest, 
After some common talk, what rumours ran. 
The lady of the spotted muffb^an. 

Some passages are not only mean in expression, but border on 
profaneness; as. 

The smith divine, as with a careless beat. 
Struck out the mute creation at a heat ; 
But when at last arrived to human race, 
The Godhead took a deep considering space* 

* I know not, however, but a ciitic n.igh,. here also point out an example of 
that discrepancy, which is censured by Johnson, and ridiculed by Prior. The 
cause of dissatisfaction in the pigeon -house is, that the proprietor chuses rather to 
feed upon the flesh of his domestic poultry, than upon theirs ; no very rational 
cause of mutiny on the part of the doves. 


On the other>Iuind, the Third Part has passages in a higher tone of - 
poetry ; particularly the whole character of James in the fable of 
the Pigeons and the Buzzard : but it is enough to fulfil the au- 
thor's promise in the preface^ that the parts do each in general 
preserve a peculiar character and style, though occasionally siu 
ding into that of the others. 

It is a main de^t of the plan just detailed^ that it necesaarilv ■ 
limited the interest of the poem to that crisis of politics when it 
was published. A work, which the author announces as calcula- 
ted to attract the favour of friends^ and to animate the malevo- 
lence of enemies^ is now read with cold indifference. He launched 
forth into a tide of controversy, which^ however furious at the 
time^ has long subsided^ leaving his poem a disregarded wreckj 
stranded upon the shores which the surges once occupied. 

Setting aside this original defect^ the First and Last Parts of thq 
poem, in particular^ abound with passages of excellent poetry^ In 
the former^ it is worthy attention, with what ease and commanc^ 
of his language and subject Dryden passes from his sublime de- 
scription of the immortal Hind, to brand and stigmatise the secta^ 
lies by whom she was hated and persecuted ; a rare union of dig« 
nity preserved in satire, and of satire engrafted upon heroic poe- 
try. The reader cannot^ at the same time, fail to observe the fe-i 
licity with which the poet has assigned prototypes to the dissent- 
ing churches, agreeing in character with that which he meant to 
fix upon their several congregations. The Bear, unlicked tp 
forms, is the emblem of the Independents, who disclaimed them;* 
the Wolf, which hunts in herds, to the classes and synods of 
the Presbyterian church ; the Hare, to the peaceful Quakers ; 
the wild Boar, to the fierce and savage Anabaptists, who ra- 

« Butler, however, assignft the Bear-Gardenas a type of my Mother Kirk; an4 
ihe reeemblance is thus proved by Ralpho : 

Sjmods are mystical bear-gardens. 
Where elders,, deputies, <£urch- wardens. 
And other members of the court, 
Manage the Babylonish sport ; 
For prolocutor, scribe, and bear-wazd. 
Do differ only in a mere word ; 
Both are but several synagogues 
Of carnal men, and bears and dogs ; 
* Both antkhristian assemblies, 

To mischief bent as far's in them lies ; 
Both slave and toil with fierce contests, 
The one with men, the other beasts : 
The difference is, the one fights with 
The tongue, the other with the teeth ; 
And that tbey bait but bears in this^ 
In fothpr souls and consciences. 

VOL. X. Q 


vaeed Germany, the native country of that aninML IVith n- 
muar felicity, the *' bird, who warned St Peter of his &h/* Im, 
from that circumstance, and his nocturnal vigils, afterwards as^ 
signed as the representative of the Catholic dergy. Above all, 
the attention is arrested by the pointed description of those dark 
and suUen enthusiasts, who, scarcely agreeing among themselves 
upon any peculiar pointsof doctrine, rested their claim to superior 
sanctity upon abominating and contemning those usual forms of 
reverence, by which men, in all countries since the beginning of 
the world, have agreed to distinguish public worship from ordma- 
ry or temporal employments. The whole of this Furst Part of the 
poem abounds with excellent poetry, rising above the tone of or- 
dinary satire,and yet p<Msessing all its poignancy. The difference, 
to those against whom it is directed, is wne that of beins blasted 
by a thunder-bolt, instead of being branded with a rtd-^ot iron. 
Th^ First Part of *' The Hind and Panther," although chiefly 
dedicated to general characters, contains some reasoning on the 
grand controversy, similar to that which occupies the Second. 
The author displays, with the utmost art and energy of amimen- 
tative poetry, the reasons by yhich he was himself guided in 
adopting the Roman Catholic faith. He is led into this discussion 
byhnentioningtheheretical doctrine of the Unitarians; and insists, 
that the Protestant churches, which have consented to postpone 
human reason to fidth, by acquiescing in the orthodox doctrine of 
the Trinity, are not entitled to appeal to the authority whidi 
they have waived, for arguments against the mystery of the res! 
presence in the eucharist This was a favourite mode of rea« 
soning of the Catholics at the time, as may be seen from the 
numerous treatises whidi they sent forth upon the controversy* 

Httdibras denies ^e resonblance, ami answers by an appeal to the 

For bears and dogs on four legs go 
As beasts, but synod-men have two ; 
'Tis true, they all have teeth and nails* 
But prove that synod-men have tails ; ' 
Or that, a rugged shaggy fur 
Grows o*er the hide of presbyter ; 
. Or that his snout and spacious e&rs 
Do hold proportion widi a beards. 
A bear's a savage beast, of all 
Most ugly and unnatuial ; 
VIThelp'd without form, until the dam 
Has lick'd it into shape and frame ; 
But all thy light can ne*er evict. 
That ever synod man was lickt. 
Or brought to any other fashion, 
l*han hu own will and inclination* 

Budibraty Vui U Cukto % 


It is undoubtedly very fit to Impode on the vulgar, but complete- 
ly overi^oots the mtrk at whidi it aimg. For, if our yielding 
humble belief to one abstruse doctrine of divinity be sufficient to 
debar the exercise of our reason respecting another, it is obvious, 
that, by the same reason, the appeal to our understanding must 
be altogether laid aside in matters of doubtful orthodoxy. The 
Pr9te8tant divines, thereforey took a distinction ; and, while they 
admitted they were obliged to surrender their human judgment 
in matters of divine revelation which were above their reason, they 
asserted the power of appealing to its ^idance in those things of a 
finite nature which depend on the evidence of sense, and the con- 
sequent privil^fes of rejecting any doctrine, which, being within 
the sphere of human comprehension, is nevertheless repugnant to 
die understanding : thcffefore* while they received the doctrine of 
the Trinity as an infinite mystery, far above their reason, they 
contended against that of transubstantiation, as capable of being 
tried by human fiiculties, and as contradicted by an appeal to 
them. In a subsequent passage, the author taxes the church of 
England with an attempt to reconcile contradictions, by admitting^ 
the real presence in the eucharist, and yet denying actual transub- 
stantiation. Dry den boldly appeals to the positive words of Scrip- 
Cure, and 9ums his doctrine thus : 

The literal sense ii hard to flesh and blood. 
But nonsense never can be understood. 

Granting, however, the obscurity or mystery of the one doctrine, 
it is a hard choice to be obliged to adopt, in its room, that which 
asserts an acknowledged irapossibihty. 

In the Second Part, another point of the controversy is agitated ; 
the infallibility t namely, which is claimed by the Roman church. 
The author appears here to have hampered himself in the toils of 
his own argument in a former poem^ He had asserted in the 
** 'Religio I^4ci," that the Scriptures contained all things necessary 
for salvation ; while he yet admitted, that those, whose bent inch- 
ned theiwto the study of polemical di^rinity, were to be guided by 
the exfiositions of the fathers, and the earlier, especially the writ-i* 
ten traditions of the Church. Thei^e is, as has been noticed in 
the remarka pn '^ Re%ip Laici," a certain vacillation in our au- 
thor's arguments concerning tradition, while yet a Projtestant, which 
prepares us for his finally reposing his doubts in the bosom of that 
/church, i^hjich pretends to be the sole depositary of the earlier 
doctrines of Christianity, and claims a right to ascertain all doubts 
in point of faith, by the same mode, and with the same unerring 
certainty, as the original church in the days of the apostles and 
fath^rf • These doubts, with which Dryden sepms to have been 
deeply impressed while within the pale of the Church of En^g^land, 



he now objects to her as inconsistencies, and accuses her <»f having 
recourse to tradition, or discarding it^ as suited the ailment 
which, for the time, she had in aff itation. It is unnecessary here 
to trace the various grounds on which refbrmed diurches provey 
that the chain of apostolical tradition has been broken and shiver* 
ed; and that the church, claiming the protfd title of In&llible, has 
repeat^y sanctioned heresy and error. Neither is it necessary 
to ^hew, how the Church of England stops short in her recep- 
tion of traditions, adopting only those of the primitive churoL 
Something on these points may be found in the notes* I may re« 
mark^ that Dryden is of the Gallican or low Church of Rome, if 
I may so speak, and rests the infallibility which he claims for her 
in the Pope and Council of the Church, and not in the Vicar of 
Christ alone. In point of literary interest, this Second Part is 
certainly beneath tne other two. It furnishes, however, an exceU 
lent specimefn of poetical ratiocination upon a most unpromising 

The Third Part refers entirely to the politics of the day ; and 
the poet has endeavoured^ by a number of arguments, to remove 
the deep jealousy and apprehensions which the king's religion, and 
his zeal for prosel3^sm, had awakened in the Church of England. 
He does not even spare to allege a recent adoption of presbyteriaa 
doctrines, as the reason for her unwonted resistance to the royal 
will; and all the vigour of his satire is pointed against the latitu- 
dinarian clergy, or, as they were finally called, the Low Church 
Party, who now began to assert, what James at length found a 
melancholy truth, that the doctrine of passive obedience and non- 
resistance was not peremptorily binding, when the church herself 
was endangered by the measures of the monarch. Stillingfleet» 
the personal antagonist of our author, in the controversy concern- 
ing the Duchess of York's posthumous declaration of faith, is per- 
sonallyand ferociously attacked. The poem concludes with a fable 
delivered by each of the disputants, of which the moral applies to 
the project and hopes of her rival. We have already said, that 
which IS told by the Panther, as it is most spirited and pointed* 
proved, to the great regret of the author, most strictly prophetic. 
It is remarkable for containing a beautiful character of King 
Jamesy as the other exhibits a satirical portrait of the historian 
Burnet, with whom the court party in general, and Dryden per- 
sonally, were then at enmity. 

The verse in which these doctrines, polemical and {political, are 
delivered, is among the finest specimens of the English heroic 
stanza. The introductory verses, in particular, are lofty and dig- 
nified in the highest degree; as are those, in which the splendour 
and majesty of the Church of Rome are set forth, in all tne glow- 
ing colours of rich imagery and magnificent language. But the 



•aiiie pnose extends Uhtke versification of the whole poem. It 
iiever Mis, never becoi^es rugged ; rises with the dignified strain 
of the poetry; sinks into. quaint familiarity^ where sarcasm and 
humour are employed ; and winds through aJl the mazes of theo- 
logical argument^ without becoming either obscure or prosaic. 
The arguments are in general advanced with an air of conviction 
and candour, which, in those days, must have required the pro- 
testant reader to be on his guard in the perusal, and which seems 
completely to ascertain the sincerity of the author in his new re- 
ligious creed. 

This controversial poem, containing a bold defiance to all who 
opposed the king's measures or faith, had no sooner appeared, 
than our author became a more general object of attack than he 
had been even on the publication of " Absalom and Achitophel." 
Indeed, his enemies were now far more numerous, including most 
of his former friends, the 2hrieso£the high church, excepting a 
very few who remained attached to James, and saw, with anxiety, 
his destruction precipitated by the measures he was adopting. 

Montague and Prior were among the first to assail our aumor, 
in the parody, of which we have just given a large specimen. It 
must have been published before tlie 24th October 1687^ for it is 
referred to in " The Laureat," another libel against Dryden, in- 
scribed by Mr Luttrel with that date. This assault affected him 
the more, as coming from persons with whom he had lived on 
habits of civility. He is even said to have shed tears upon this 
occasion; a report probably exaggerated, but which serves to 
shew, that he was sensible he had exposed himself to the most 
unexpected assailants, by the unpopularity of the cause which he 
had espoused. Some further particulars respecting this contro- 
versy are mentioned in Dryden's Life. Another poet, or parodier, 
published " The Revolter, a tragi-comedy," in which he brings 
the doctrines of the *' Religio Laici,'* and of the '* Hind and 
Panther," in battle array against each other, and rails at the 
author of both with the most unbounded scurrility.* 

* '^ In ihort, the whole poem, if it may deserve that name, is a piece of de. 
formed, arrogant nonsense, and self-contradiction, drest up in fine language, 
Wu an uglj brazen-faeed whore, peeping through die costly trappings of a 
point de VenUe comet. I call it nonsense, because unseasonable ; and arrogant, 
because impertinent : For could Mr Bayes have so little wit, t9 think him^lf a 
•affident chammon to decide the high mysteries of faith and transubstahtiation, 
and the nice disputes concerning traditions and infallibility, in a discourse be- 
tween ** The Hind and the Panther," which, undetermined hitherto, have exer- 
cised til the learning in the world ? Or, could he think the grand arcana of 
divinity a subject fit to be handled in flounshirig rhyme, by the author of *' The 
Dukf of GuiM," or ^* The Conquest of Peru,*' or «* The Spanish Friar :*' 


Not only new enemiet arose against him, but the hiMtilitj of 
former and deceased foes seemed to experwnce a sort of reaurreD- 
tion. Four Letters, by Matthew Clifiord of the Charter- House, 
containing notes upon Dryden's poems and plays, were now either 
published for the first time, or raked up from the obscuritY of ^ 
a dead-bom edition, to fill up the cry of criticism against him' 
on all rides. They are coarse and virulent to the last degree, and 
so fiir served the purpose of the publishers ; but, as they had no 
reference to " The Hind and Panther," that defect was removed 
by a supplementary Letter from the facetious Toifi Brown, an ao^ 
thor, whose sole wish was to attain the reputatioiii of a anecesaful 
bufibon, and who, like the jesters of old, having once made him- 
self thorouffhly absurd and ridiculous, gained a sort of privilege' 
to make others feel his grotesque raillery.* Berides the reflec« 

Doubts which Mr Bayes it no more able to uofoldy than Saffold to rewlTe a 
question in astrology. And all tbia only as a tale to usher in his beloved cha- 
racter, and to diew the excellency of his wit in abusing honest men. If thesis 
were his thoughts, as we cannot rationally otherwise believe, seeing that bo maa 
of understanmng will undertake an enterprize, wherein he does not think him- 
adf to have some advantage of his predecessors ; then does this lomance, I aay, 
of The Panther and the Hind, fall under the most fatal censure of unseasonable 
folly and saucy impertinence. Nor can I think, that the more solid, prudent, 
and learned persons of the Roman Churdi, con him any thanks for laying Are 
prophane fingers of a turn-coat upon the altar of their sacred debates."— .7%e 
JtevotUTt a tragi.comedy, acted between The Hind and Panther and Rdigio 
lAid, &c 1687. 

* The following is the commencement of his ** Reflections on the Hind and 
Panther,'* in a Letter to a Friend, 1687 : 

** The present vou have made me of * The Hind and Panther,* is variously 
talked of here in tne country. Some wonder what kind of champion the Roman 
Catholics have now gotten ; for they have had divers wajrs of representing them- 
selves ; but this of rfajrming us to death, is altogether new and unhourd d^ 
before Mr Bayes set about it ; and, indeed, he hath done it in the markishart 
poem that ever was seen. 'Tis true, he hath written a great many dungs ; but 
ne never had such pure swifbiess of thought, as in this composition, nor such 
fiery flights of fancy. Such hath always been his dramatical and scenical way of 
scribbling, that there was no post nor pillar in the town exempt firom the pasting 
up of the titles of his plays ; insomuch, that the footboys, for want of skill in 
reading, do now (as we hear) often bring away, by mistake, the title of a new 
book against the Chureh of England, instead of taking down the play for the af- 
ternoon. Yet, if he did it weU or handsomely, he might deserve some pardon ; 
but, alas ! how ridiculously doth he appear in print for any religion, who bath 
-made it his business to laugh at all ! How can he stand up for any mode of wor^ 
ship, who hath been accustomed to bite, and spit his vencm against the very name 
thereof ? 

^* Wherefore, I cannot but wish our adversaries joy on their new-co n v e itid 
hero, Mr Bayes ; whose principle it is to fight single with whole armies ; nd 
this one quality he prefers before all the moral virtues put together. The Ro- 
man Catholics may talk what they will, of their Bellarmine and Perrone* their 
Hector and Achilles, and I know not who ; but 1 desire them all, to shew one 


tions contained in this Letter, Brown also published " The New 
Converts exposed^ or Reasons for Mr Bayes changing his Reli- 
gion^" in two parts ; the first of which appeared in I688, and 
the second in 1690. From a- passage in the preface to the first 
partyWhicfi may serve as a sample of Tom's buffoonery, we learn, 
Dryden publicly complained, that, although he had put his name 
to '* The Hind and Panther," those who criticized or replied to 
that poem had not imitated his example** 

such champion for the cause, as this Drawcansk : For he is the man that kills whole 
nations at once ; who, as he never wrote any thing, that any one can imagine'has ever 
been the practice of the world, so, that in lus late endeavours to pen centroversy, you 
shall hardly find one word to the purpose. He is that accomplished person, who loves 
reasoning so much in verse, and hath got a knack of writing it smoothly. The 
subject (he treats of in this poem) did, in his opinion, require more than ordinazj 
spirit and flame ; therefore, he suppoMsd it to he too great for prose ; for he is too 
proud, to creep servilely after sense ; so that, in his verse, he soars high above 
the reach of it. To do this, there is no need of brain, 'tis but scanning right | 
the labour is in the finger, not in the head. 

** However, if Mr Bayes would be pleased to abate a Hfetle of the exuberancy 
of his fancy and wit ; to dispense with bis ornaments and superfluendes of inven- 
tion afid satire, a man might consider, whether he should submit to lus aigti- 
ment ; but take away the railing, and no argument remains ; so that one may 
beat the bush a whole day, and» after s6 much labour, only spring a butterfly, 
or start a hedee-hog. 

*' For all this, is it not great pity to see a man, in the flower of his romantic 
conceptions, in the full vigour of his studies on love and honour, to fall into 
such a distraction, as to w& through the thorns and briars of controversy, unless 
his confessor hath commanded it, as a penance for some past sins ? that a man, 
who hath read Don Quixote for the greatest part of his life, should pretend to 
interpret the Bible, or trace the footsteps of tradition, even in the darkest ages?" 
-— JPour Letters, &c. 

* ^* To draw now to an end, Mr Bayes, I hear, has lately complained, at 
Willis* Coff*eehouse, of the iU usage he has met in the world ;. that whereas he 
had the generosity and assurance to set his own name to his late piece of polemic 
poetry, yet others, who have pretended to answer him, wanted the breeding and 
civility to do the like : Now, because I would not willingly disoblige a person of 
Mr Baye8*s character, I do here fiiirly, and before all the world, assure him that 
my name is Dudly Tomkinson, and that I live within two miles of St Michael's 
Mount, in Cornwall, and have, in my time, been both constable, church-warden, 
and overseer of the parish ; by the same token, that the little gallery next the 
belfrey, the new motto about the pulpit, the king's arms, the ten command- 
ments, and the great sim-dial in the church-yard, inll transmit my name to all 
posterity. Furthermore, (if it will do him any g^Dod at all) I can make a pretty 
shift to read without spectacles ; wear my own hair, which is somewhat indining 
to red ; have a large mole on my left cheek ; am mightily troubled with corns ; 
and what is peculiar to my constitution, after half-a-dozen bottles of claret, which 
I generally carry home every night from the tavern, I never fail of a stool or two 
next morning ; besides, use to smoke a pipe every day af\er dinner, and after- 
wards steal a nap for an hour or two in the old wicker-chair near the oven ; take 



Another of these wit^ varleU jmbliihed, ia 1688, '' Bdi|^ 
tid, or a Layman's Faith^ touching the Supreme Head and In- 
fallible Guide of the Church, in Two Letters, &c. by J. B. a^on- 
vert o£ MrBayes," licensed June the first, 1688. From this pasi- 
phlet we have given some extracta in the introdoctoiy lemaiks 
to <' Religio Laid/' pp. 9, la 

There were, besides, many libels of the most personal kind 
poured forth against Dryden by the poets who supplied the usual 
demand of the hawkers. One of the most virulent contains a sin- 
gular exhibition of rage and impotence. It professes to contains 
review of our poet's life and literary labours, and calls itself " The 
LaureaL" This, aa containmg some curious particulan, is giTen 

gentle pmgadict wpring aod fUl ; and it has been my cuttom, any tinle Ane 
sixteen yesri , (as all the parish can testify) to ride in gambadoes. Naj, to via 
the heart of him for ever, I invite him here, before Sie oourteoni reader, to a 
pmnttj rcgak, (provided he will befbte hand promise not to debauch voj wife,) 
where he shall have sugar to his roast-beef, and vinegar to his butter; and lasdj, 
to make him amends for the tediousness of the journey, a pafod of Miics to cany 
home with him, which I believe can seaiiee be matdied in the whole Chrisdaa 
wedd ; bat, because I have no great fiuicr that way, I don*t care if I part with 
them to so worthy a penon ; tfa^ are as folWwedi s 

. " St Gregory's Ritual, bound up in the same calve'«-akin Aat the old gentle- 
man, in St Luke, roasted at the return of his prodigal son. 

" The quadrant that a Philistine tailor took the height of (^oUah by, when he 
made him his last suit of elothes ; for the giant being a man of extraordinary 
dimensions, it was impossible to do this in any other way than your designers we 
when they take the he^ht of a oountryi^teeple,'' ice Scc^-^ReattHufor Mr Baya 
thanginghitlUHgUm. See Prefiice. 


Jatk Squdk*9 history ^ in a little drawn. 
Dawn to hit eveninfffrom his morning dawn, 

(Bought by Mr Luttrel, 24th October, 1667.) 

Appear, thou mighty bard, to open view ; 
Whidi yet, we must confess, you need not do. 
The labour to expose thee we may save ; 
Thou standst upon thy own records a knave, 
Condemn*d to hve in thy apostate rhymes. 
The curse of ours, and scoff of future times. 
Still tacking round with every turn of state. 
Reverse to Shaftesbury, thy cursed fate 
Is always, at a change, to come too late. 
To keep hi? plots from coxcombs, was his care ; 
His villainy was mask d, and thine is bare. 
Wise men alone could guess at his design. 
And could but guess, the threads were spun so fine 
But every purblind fool may see through thine. 


The ety against our author being thus general^ we may reason^ 
)ly suppose, that be would have taken some opportunity to ex- 
'cise bis powers of retort upon those who were most active or 
[O0t considerable among the aggressors, and that Montague and 
ricNT stood a fair chance of being coupled up with Doeg and Og» 
18 former antagcmists. But, if Dryden entertained any intention 

Had Dick stSll ke^t Ihe regal diadem. 

Thou hadst been poet laureat still to him. 

And, long ere now, in lofty verse prodaim'd 

His high extraction, among princes famed ; 

Difiiised his glorious deeds, from pole to pole* 

Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll : 

Nay, had our Charles, by heaven's severe decree. 

Been found and murdered in the royal tree. 

Even thou hadst praised the fact ; his £iither slain , 

Thou call*st but gently breathing of a vein. 

Impious and villunous, to bless the blow 

That laid at once three lofty nations low. 

And gave the royd cause a fiital overthrow ! 

Scandal to all religions, new and old ; 

Scandal to them, where pardon's bought and soldy 

And mortgaged- happiness redeem'd for gold. 

Tell me, for 'tis a truth you must allow. 

Who ever changed more in one moon than thou ? 

Even thy own Zimri was more stedfast known. 

He had but one religion, or had none. 

What sect of Christians is't tho^ hast not known, 

And at one time or other madjB thy own ? 

A bristled baptist bred, and then thy strain 

Immaculate was far from sinful stain ; 

No songs, in those blest times, thou (Udst produce. 

To brand and shame good manners out of use ; 

The lac^ had not then one b — — bob. 

Nor thou the courtly name of Poet Squab. 

NffiLt, thy dull muse, an independant jade, 
On sacred tyranny fine stanzas made ; 
Praised NoU, who even to both extremes did run. 
To kill the father and dethrone the son. 
When Charles came in, thou-didst a convert grow. 
More by thy interest, than thy nature so ; 
Under his 'Evening beams thy laurels spread ; 
He first did place that wreath about thy head. 
Kindly relieved thy wants, and gave thee bread. 
Here 'twas thou niadest thy bells of fimcy chime. 
And choked the town with suffocating rhyme ; 
Till heroes, form'd by thy creating pen, 
Were grown as cheap and dull as other men. 
I^ush'd with success, full gallery and pit. 
Thou bravest all mankind with want of wit ; 

Nay, in short time wer't grown so proud a ninny, 
As scarce to allow that Ben himselt] 

bad any; 


^^retaliation, the RevolutioD, whidi cnuiied hit ximng proqucts, 
took away both the opportuni^ and in cl ina t io p . From that pc^ 
liod, the iame of' The Hind and Panthei^'gndmdljdinimiflhi 
ed, as the controveny between Ptoteatant and Papist 0we wvf 15 
that between Whig and Tory. Within a few yean after A^int 
publicatimi of the poem. Swift ranks it among the co m p o wtioni 
of Grub-street ; ironically terms it, '^ the master-pieoe of a fii- 

But when the mett df seme thy error ttw. 

They cfaeckM thy mnse, and lupt the tennaguit bk aire» 

To satire next thy talent was addreit. 
Fell fdul on all, thy friends among the rest : 
Those who the oft*nest did thy wants supply. 
Abused, traduced, without a reason why t 
Nay, even thy royal patron was not qMred, 
But an obscene, a santring wretch dedazed* 
Thy loyal libel we can stffl produce i 
Beyond example, and bejrend excuse. 
O strange return fo a forgiring king ! 
But the warm*d viper wears the greatest sting. 
Thy pension lost, and justly without doubt ; 
When servants snarl, we ought to hick 'em out ; 
They that disdain their benefactor^ bread. 
No longer ought by bounty to be fed. 
That lost, ^e visor changed, you turn about. 
And straight a true blue Protestant crept out. 
The *^ Friar** now was writ ; and some will say. 
They smell a maLcontent through all the play. 
The Papist too was damn'd,. unfit for trust, ' 1 

Called treacherous, shameless, profl^te, unjust ; v 
And kingly power thought arbitrary lust f 

This lasted till thou didst thy pension gain. 
And that changed both thy morals and thy strain. 

If to write contradictions nonsense be. 
Who has more nonsense in their works than thee ? 
We*ll mention but thy Lajrman's Faith, and Hind : 
Who*ll think both these, such clashing do we find. 
Could be the product of one single milid ! 
Here thou wouldst charitable fain appear, 
Ffaid fault that Athanasius was severe ; 
Thy pity straight to cruelty is raised. 
And even the pious inquisition praised. 
And recommended to the present reign, 
** O happy countries, Italy and Spain !" 
Have we not cause, in thine own words, to say, 
Let none believe what varies every day. 
That never was, nor will be, at a stay ? , 
Once heathens might be saved, you did allow. 
But not, it seems, we greater heathens now. 
The loyal thurch, that buoys the kingly line, 
Damn*d with a breath, but *tis such a breath as thine 



mou8 ftuthor^ now living, intended as a complete abstract of six- 
teen thousand schoolmen^ from Scotus to BeHarmine ;" and im« 
mediately subjoins, " Tommy Potts, supposed by tile same liand^ 
by way of Supplement to the former/'* With such acrimony do 
men of genius treat the productions of each other ; and so cer« 
tain it is^ that, to enjoy permanent reputation, an anthor most 
chuse a theme of permanent interest. 

What credit to thy party can it be. 

To have gained so lewd a profligate as thee ? 

Stray*d from our fold, muces us to laugh, not wttpi 

We have but lost what was difgraoe to keepw 

By them mistrusted, and to us a soom ; 

For 'tis but weakness at the bert to turn. 

True, hadst thou left us in the former reign, 

Y'had proved it was not wholly done tor §na ; 

Now the meridian sun is not so plain. 

Gold IB thy god ; for a substantial sum. 

Thou to the Turk wonldst nm awsy fiuni Botm, 

And sing his holy ezpcditioB against Onastcndoa. 

But, to conclude ; Undi with a lascii^ red. 

If thou*rt not moved by wbat*8 abcady said. 

To see thy boars, bears, buzzards, wolves, and owliw 

And an thy other beasts and other fowls. 

Routed by two poor mice (uneqaal fight !) 

But easy *tis to conquer in the r^|it. 

See there a youth, (a shame to thy gray baiff) 

Make a mcge dnnceof aU thy t fai f etwe 

What in diat tedious poem hast tfaoadone. 

But cramm'd aU Stop's foblcs ini* one ? 

But why do 1 the pteaons ■mratcs spoid 

On him, diat woiud modi tadier hang diai 

No, wretdi, eonliuues^l just ae dioii art, 

Thon'rt now in thio last seene tfaatcnnma ikj pBt» 

To purdiase fiivour veer with every gde. 

And against interert never cease to lafl. 

Though thoa*rt the only proof bow intemSaa picvilL 


•«Ta]eof a Tub," first part **TammjFM^ utkmBjfOgtimhaUdftm 
' see Bitson's •* Andent Songb" 



The nation is in too high a ferment^ for me to ex- 
pect either fair war, or even so much as fair quar« 
ter, from a reader of the opposite party. All men 
are engaged either on this side or that : and though 
conscience is the common word which is given by 
both, yet if a writer fall among enemies, and can- 
not give the marks of their conscience, he is knock- 
ed down before the reasons of his own are heard. 
A preface, therefore, which is but a bespeaking of 
favour, is altogether useless. What I desire the 
reader should know concerning me, he will find in 
the body of the poem, if he have but the patience 
to peruse it. Oiuv this advertisement let him take 
beK)re-hand, whidb rdates to the merits of the cause. 
No general characters of parties (call them either 
sects or churches) can be so rally and exactly drawn, 
as to comprehend all the seveial members of them ; 
at least all such as are received under that denomi- 
nation. For example ; there are some of the church 
by law established, who envy not liberty of con- 
science to dissenters.; as being well satisfied that, 
according to tiidr own principles, they ought not 
to persecute them. Yet. these, by reason of their 
fewness, I could not distinguish from the numbers 
of the rest, with whom they are embodied in one 
common name. On the other side, there are many 

110 FEl&FACE TO 

of our sects, and more indeed than I could reason- 
ably have hoped, who have withdrawn themselva 
from the communion of the Panther, and embraced 
this gracious indulgence of his majesty in point of 
toleration^ But neither to the one nor the other of 
these is this satire any way intended : it is aimed 
only at the refractory and disobedient on either side. 
For those, who are come over to the royal party, 
are consequently supposed to be out of gun-shot* 
Our physicians have observed, that, in process of 
time, some diseases have abated of their virulence, 
and have in a manner worn out their malignity, so 
as to be no longer mortal ; and why may not I sup- 
pose the same concerning some of those, who have 

* The tumultuary joy of the sectaries, upon their first view of 
this triumph over the church of Englandt led them into all the ex- 
travagances of loyalty^ which used to be practised by their an- 
cient enemies the Tories. Addresses teeming with allection, an4 
foaming with bombast, were poured in upon King James from all 
^wmers of his dominions ; Presbyterians^ Anabaptists, Quakers, 
sectaries of all sorts and persuasions, strove to be foremost in the 
race of gratitude. And when similar addresses came in from cor- 
porations, who had been formerly anxious to shew their loyidty on 
the subject of the Rye-house plot, the king's accession, and other 
occasions of triumph to the Tories, the tone of these bodies also 
was wonderfully changed ; and, instead of raving against excluders, 
rebelsy regicides, republicans, and fanatics, whose hellish contri- 
vances endeavoured to destroy the safety of the kingdom, and the 
life of the king, these same gentlemen mention the aeotaries as 
^heir brethren and fellow-subjects, to whom the king, their com? 
inon father, had been justly, liberally, royally, pleased to grant 
freedom of conscience, for which the addressers offer their hearty 
and unfeigned thanks. These were the two classes of persons, 
^hom Dryden, as they had closed with the measures of govem- 
ynent, declares to be exempted from his satire. Those, there? 
fore» against whom it is avowedlv directed, are first, the Church 
of En^and, whose adherents saw her destructionaimedat through 
^e pretence of toleration. 2dly, Those sectaries who distrusted 
^e boon iiFfaich the king presented, and feared th§t tbs fonser 


formeiy been enemies to kingly government, as 
vdl as Catholic religion ? I hope they have now 
another notion of both, as having found, by com«r 
fortable experience, that the doctrine of persecu^ 
tion is far from being an article of our faith * 

It is not for any private man to censure the pror 
ceedings of a foreign prince :f but, without suspicion 
of flattery, I ipay praise our own, who has taken 
contrary measures, and those more suitable to the 
spirit of Christianity. Some of the dissenters, in 
taeir addresses to his majesty, have said, '^ That he 

quenoes of this iimnedi«te indulgence at the hands of an anqient 
enemy^ would be purchased by future persecution. I'bese formed 
a body^ small at nrst^ but whose numbers daily increased. 

Among the numerous addresses which were presented to the 
court on this occasion, there are two somewhat remarkable from 
the quality and condition of the persons in whose name they are 
offered* The one is from the persons engaged in the schemes of 
Shaftesbury and Monmouth^ and who set out by acknowledging 
their lives and fortunes forfeited to King James ; a singular in-> 
stance of convicts offering their sentiments upon state affairs. 
The other is from no less a corporation than the company of Lon- 
don Cooks> which rei^^ectable persons declare their approbation 
of the indulgence^ upon a principle recognized in their profession, 
f the difference ofmen's 0usto, in religion^ as in eatables ;" and as- 
sure his majesty, that his declaration ** somewhat resembles th^ 
Almighty's manna, which suited every man's palate."— //iw/ory of 
Addresses, pp. IO69 l^^* 

* Most readers will^ I thinks acknowledge with me, the extreme 
awkwardness with which Dryden apologizes, for hoping well of 
those sectaries, against whom he had so often discharged the ut- 
most severity of his pen. Yet there is much real truth in the ob- 
servation, thouffh th^ compliment to the new allies of the Catho- 
lics is but a cold one. Many sects have distinguished themselves 
liyfaction,fanaticism,and furious excess at their rise, which, when 
their spirits have ceased to be agitated by novelty, and exaspera- 
ted by persecution, have subsided into ^uiet orderly classes of citi- 
zens, only remarkable for some peculiarities of speculative doc- 

t Alluding to the persecution of the Huguenots in France af- 
fer the recal of the E^qjt of Nantes. 


has restored God to his empire over conscience."* 
I confess, I dare not stretch the figure to so great 
a boldness : but I may safely say, that conscience 
is the royalty and prerogative of every private man. 
He is absolute in his own breast, and accountaUe 
to no earthly power for that which passes only be- 
twixt God and him. Those who are driven into 
the fold are, generally speaking, rather made hypo- 
crites than converts. 

This indulgence being granted to all the sects, 
it ought in reason to be expected, that they should 
both receive it, and receive it thankfully. For, at 
this time of day to refuse the benefit, and adhere 
to those whom they have esteemed their persecu- 
tors, what is it else but publicly to own, tnat they 
suffered not before for conscience-sake, but only out 
of pride and obstinacy, to separate from a church 
for those impositions, which they now judge may 
be lawfully obeyed ? After they have so long con- 
tended for their classical ordination (not to speak of 
rites and ceremonies) will they at length submit to 
an episcopal ? If they can go so far, out of com- 
plaisance to their old enemies, methinks a little rea- 
son should persuade them to take another step and 
see whither that will lead them.f 

* This phrase occurs in the address of the Ministers of the Gros- 
^nbI in and about the city of London, commonly called Presbyte- 
rians : ** Your majesty's princely wisdom," say these reverend 
sycophants, ** now rescues us from our long sufferings^ and by die 
same royal act restores God to the empire over consdence." This 
it is to be too eloquent ; when people set no bounds to their rhe- 
toric, it betrays uiem often into nonsense, and not seldcnn into 
blasphemy. — History of Addresses, p. 107. 

t A gentle insinuation, that if the sectaries could renounce 
the ordination by presbyteries or classes, in favour of the diurch 
of England, it would require but a step or two i^rtber to bring 
them to a conformity with that of RomCr 


Of the receiving this toleration thankfully, I shall 
say np more, than that they ought, and I doubt not 
they will consider from what hand they received it. 
It is not from a Cyrus, a heathen prince^ and a fo« 
reigner^^ but from a Christian king, their native so- 
vereign ; who expects a return in specie from them, 
that the kindness, which he has graciously shewn 
them^ may be retaliated on those of his own per- 

. As for the poem in general, I will only thus far 
satisfy the reader, that it was neither imposed on 
me, nor so much as the. subject given me by any 
man. It was written during the last winter, and 
the beginning of this spring ; though with long 
interruptions of ill health and other hindrances. 
About a fortnight before I had finished it, his Ma- 
jesty's Declaration for liberty of conscience came 
abroad ; which, if I had so soon expected, I might 
have spared myself the labour of writing naany 
things which are contained in the third part of it. 
But I was always in some hope, that the Church of 
England might have been persuaded to have taken 
off the pen^ laws and the test, which was one de- 
sign of the Poem, when I proposed to myself the 
writing of it. 

It is evident that some part of it was only occa- 
sional, and not first intended : I mean that defence 
of myself, to which every honest man is bound, 
when he is injuriously attacked in print ; and I re- 
fer myself to the judgment of those^ who have read 
the answer to the Defence of the late King's Papers, 
and that of the Duchess, (in which last I was con- 

* Who freed the Jews from their bondage, and gavq them per- 
mission to rebuild their city and temple.— See the Book ofEsdras. 

VOL. X. H 


cerned,) how charitably I have been represented 
there.* I aim now informed both of the author and 
supervisors of this pamphlet, and will reply, when 
I think he can affront me : for I am of Socrates's 
opinion, that all creatures cannot. In the mean 
time let him consider whether he deserved not a 
more severe reprehension than I gave him former- 
ly, for using so little respect to the memory of those, 
whom he pretended to answer ; and, at his leisure, 
look out for some original treatise of humility, writ- 
ten by any Protestant in English ; (I believe I may 
say in any other tongue:) for the magnified piece 
of Duncombe on that subject, which either he must 
mean, or none, and with which another of his fel- 
lows has upbraided me, was translated from the 
Spanish of Rodriguez ; though with the omission 
of the seventeenth, the twenty-fourth, the twenty- 
fifth, and the last chapter, which will be found in 
comparing of the books, f 

* In his ardoiir for extending the Catholic religion^ James IL 
had directed copies of the papers found in his brother's stxoDg^ 
box in favour of that communion^ with the copy of a paper by 
his first duchess, giving her the reasons of her conversion to that 
faith^ to be printed^ and circulated through the kingdom. These 
papers were answered by the learned StiUingfleet, wen Dean of 
St Paul's. A Defence of the Papers was published by '' com<- 
mand," of which it appears, from the passage in the text^ that our 
author wrote the third part^ which applies to the Duchess of 
York's paper. Stillingfleet published a vindication of his answer^ 
in which he attacks our author with some severity. A fail ac« 
count of the controversy will be found attached to Dryden's part 
of the Defence, among his prose works. 

f In the controversy between Dryden and Stillingfleet, the 
former had concluded his Defence of the Duchess of York's pa- 
per, by alleging, that " among all the volumes of divinity writ- 
ten by the Protestants, there is not one original treatise^ at least 
that 1 haveseen or heard of, which has handled distinctly^ and by 
itself, the Christian virtue of humility." This Stillingfleet^ in his 
reply^ calls a " bare-faced assertion of a thing known to be ^se ;" 


' He would have insinuatpd to the world, that her 
late Highness died not a Roman Catholic. He de- 
dares himself to be now satisfied to the contrary, 
in which he has given up the cause : for matter of 
fact was the principal debate betwixt us. In the 
mean time, he would dispute the motives of her 
change ; how preposterously, let all men judge, 
wheri he seemed to deny the sul^ect of the contro- 
versy, the change itsejf.* And because I would 

for, *^ within a few years, besides what has been printed former- 
ly^ ^scich a book hath been published in London.'' Dryden^ in the 
text^ replies to this allegation, that Duncombe's treatise, which 
he supposes, to be m^ant, is a translation from the Spanish of Ra> 
driguez, therefore, not originally a Protestant work. Montague, 
in the preface to " The Hind and Panther Triahsversed," al- 
leges, tnat Dryden has mistaken the name of the author of the 
treatise alluded to ; which was not, he asserts, Duncombe, but 
Allen. See the matter more fully canvassed in a note on the ori- 
ginal passage, in " The Duchess of York's Paper Defended." 

* Dryden is not quite candid in his statement* In Stilling- 
fleet's Answer to the Duchess's paper, it is indeed called, the ^'pa- 
per 8a\d to be written by a great lady ;" but there is not another 
word upon the autbority, which, indeed, considering it was pub- 
lished under the king's immediate inspection, could not be very 
decorously disputed. Dryden seizes upon this phrase in his De- 
fence, and, coupling wiui it some expressions of the Bishop of 
Winchester, he argues that it was the intention of thede sons of 
the Church of England, to give the lie to their sovereign. In 
this vindication of the Answer, Stillingfleet thus expresses him- 
self: ** As to the main design of the third paper* I declared, that 
I considered it, as it was supposed to contam the reasons and mo- 
tives of the conversion of so great a lady to the Church of Rome. 

** But this gentleman has now eased me of the necessity of 
farther considering it on that account For he declares, that none 
of those motives or reasons are to be found in the paper of her 
highness. Which he repeats several times* ' She writ this paper, 
not as to the reasons she had herself for changing,' &c. ' As for 
her reasons* they were only betwixt God and her own soul, and 
the priest with whom she spoke at last.' 

'' And so my work is at an end as to her paper, For I never 


not take up this ridiculous challenge, he tells the 
worll I cannot argue : but he may as well infer, 
that a Catholic cannot fast, because he will not take 
up the cudgels against Mrs James,* to confute the 
Protestant religion. 

intended to ransack the private papers or secret narratives of 
great persons ; and I do not in the least question the relation now 
given fi*om so great authority, as' that he menticms of the. pas« 
sages concerning her ; and therefore I have nothing more to say 
as to what relates to die person of the duchess." 

It is obvious that Dryden^ probably finding the divine too 
hard fen: him on the controversial part of the subject^ affects to 
consider the dispute as entirely limited to the authenticity of the 
paper, which it cannot be supposed Stillingfleet ever seriously 
intended to impeach. 

* Eleanor James, a lady who was at this period pleased to 
stand up as a champion for the test, against the repeal wlucfa 
James had so deeply at heart. This female theologian is men-* 
tioned in the ^' Remarks from the country, upon the two Letters, 
relating to the convocation and alterations in the liturgy." ** It 
is a thousand pities so instructive and so eloquent papers should 
ever fall under such an imputation, (of being too forward, and 
solemn impertinence,) and be ranked amongst the scribblings of 
Eleanor James, with this only advantage of having better Ian* 
guage, whereas the woman counsellor is judged to have the 
better meaning." Although Mrs James's lucubrations were thus 
vilipended by the male disputants, one of her own sex thought 
it necessary to enter the lists in opposition to her. See Elizabeth 
Rone's short Answer to Eleanor James's Long Preamble, or Vindi^ 
cation of the New Test : 

The book called Mittresf Jameses Vindication, 
Does seem to me but her great indignation ; 
Against the Romans and dissenters too. 
She for the Church of England makes adoe ; 
Calling her Christ's spouse, but she's mistaken, 
Christ's spouse is she that is by her forsaken. 

Mrs James's work was entitled, "A Vindication of the Church 
of England, in answer to a pamphlet, entitled, a New Test of the 
Church of England's Loyalty." She was herself the wife of a 
printer, who left many books to the library of Sion College. Mrs 
James's picture is preserved in the library, in the full dress of a 
citizen's wife of that period. She survived her husband many 
years, and carried on Uie printing business on her own account. 
— Malone, Vol. III. p. 539. 



I have but one word more to say concerning the 
poem as such, and abstracting from the matters, 
either religious or civil, which are handled in it. 
The First Part, consisting most in general charac- 
ters and narration, I have endeavoured to raijie, 
and give it the majestic turn of heroic poesy. The 
Second, being matter of dispute, and chiefly con- 
cerning church authority, I was obliged to make as 
plain and perspicuous as possibly I could ; yet not 
wholly neglecting the numbers, though I had not 
frequent occasions for the magnificence of verse. 
The Third, which has more of the nature of do- 
mestic conversation, is, or ought to be, more free 
and familiar than the two former. 

There are in it two episodes, or fables, which are 
interwoven with the main design ; so that they are 
properly parts of it, though they are also distinct 
stories of themselves. In both of these I have made 
use of the common-places of satire, whether true or 
false, which are urged by the members of the one 
church against the other ; at which I hope no read- 
er of either party will be scandalized, because they 
are not of my invention, but as old, to my know- 
ledge, as the times of Boccace and Chaucer on the 
one side, ' and as those of the Reformation on the 



A milk-white Hind,* immortal and unchanged^ 
Fed on the lawns, and in the forest tanged ; 
Without unspotted, innocent within. 
She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin. 
Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds, 
And Scythian shafts ; and many winged wounds 
Aim'd at her heart ; was often forced to fly. 
And doom'd to death, though fated not to die.f 

Not so her young ; for their unequal line 
Was hero's make, half human, half divine. 
Their earthly mould obnoxious was to fate. 
The immortal part assumed immortal state. 
Of these a slaughter'd army lay in blood,:}; 
Extended o'er the Caledonian wood. 

* The. Roman Catholic Church. 

t Note I. 

X The Roman Catholic priests executed in England^ at dif- 
ferent times since the Reformation^ and regarded as martyrs and 
saints by those of their communion. 


Their native walk ; whose vocal blood arose^ 
And cried for pardon on their peijur'd foes. 
Their fate was fruitful, and the sanguine seed. 
Endued with souls, increased the sacred breed. 
So captive Israel multiplied in chains, 
A numerous exile, and enjoy'd her pains. 
With grief and gladness mix'd, the mother view'd 
Her martyr'd offipring, and their race renew'd ; 
Their corps to perish, but their kind to last. 
So much the deathless plant the dying fhiit sur- 

Panting and pensive now she ranged alone. 
And wander'd in the kingdoms, once her own. 
The common hunt, though from their rage re- 
By sovereign power, her company disdain'd, 
Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye 
Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. 
'Tis true, she bounded by, and tripped so light. 
They had not time to take a steady sight ; 
For truth has such a face and such a mien. 
As to be lov'd needs only to be seen. 

The bloody Bear, an independent btost, 
Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate expressed.* 
Among the timorous kind, the quaking Hare 
Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear.f 
Next her the buffoon Ape, as atheists use. 
Mimicked all sects, and had his own to chuse ; 
Still when the Lion look'd, his knees he bent. 
And paid at church a courtier's compliment.:|: 
The bristled baptist Boar, impure as he, J 
But whiten'd with the foam of sanctity. 

* The Independants, See Note II. 
t The Quakers. See Note III. 
X Free-Thinkers. See Note IV. 
§ Anabaptists. See Note V, 


With fat pollutions fill*d the sacred place. 
And mountains levelled in his furious race ; 
So first rebellion founded was in grace. 
But since the mighty ravage, which he made 
In German forest, had his guilt betrayed. 
With broken tusks, and with a borrowed name. 
He shunn'd thevengeance,and concealed the shame; 
So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile 
False Reynard fed on consecrated spoil ;♦ 
The graceless beast by Athanasius first 
Was chased firom Nice, then by Socinus nursed ; 
His impious race their blasphemy renew'd. 
And Nature's King through Nature's optics view*d. 
Revers'd, they view'd him lessened to their eye. 
Nor in an infant could a God descry. 
New swarming sects to this obliquely tend. 
Hence they began, and here they all will end. 
What weight of ancient witness can prevail, 
If private reasons hold the public scale ? 
But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide 
For erring judgments «n unerring guide ! 
Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, 
A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. 
O, teach me to believe thee, thus conceal'd, 
And search no farther than thyself reveal*d ; 
But her alone for my director take. 
Whom thou hast promised never to forsake ! 
My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires ; 
My manhood, long misled by wandering fires. 
Followed false lights ; and, when their glimpse was 

My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. 
Such was I, such by nature still I am ; 
Be thine the glory, arid be mine the shame ! 

* Unitarians. See Note VI. 


Good life be now my task ; my doubts are done ;* 

What more could fright my faith, than three in one? 

Can I believe eternal God could lie 

Disguised in mortal mould, and infancy ? 

That the great Maker of the world could die 

And after that trust my imperfect sense. 

Which calls in question his omnipotence ? 

Can I my reason to my faith compel. 

And shall my sight, and touch, and taste rebel ? 

Superior faculties are set aside ; , 

Shall their subservient organs be my guide > 

Then let the moon usurp the rule of day. 

And winking tapers shew the sun his way ; 

For what my senses can themselves perceive, 

I need no revelation to believe. 

Can they, who say the host should be descried 

By sense, define a body glorified ? 

Impassible, and penetrating parts ? 

Let them declare by what mysterious arts 

He shot that body through the opposing might, ^ 

Of bolts and bars impervious to the light, > 

And stood before his train confess'd in open sightf ) 

For since thus woifidrously he pass'd, 'jtis plain. 

One single place t^o bodies did contain ; 

And sure the same Omnipotence as well 

Can make one body in more places dwell. 

Let reason then at her own quarry fly. 

But how can finite grasp infinity ? 

'Tis urged again, that faith did first commence 
By miracles, which are appeals to sense. 
And thence concluded, tnat our sense must be 
The motive still of credibility ; 

* See Introductory Remarks, 
t Note VII. 


Far lattar ages most on former wwit. 
And what b^an bdieC musfc propagate. 

But winiK>w wefl this tlioiiglit, and joo sUU find 
Tis light as chaff that ffies be&re the wind. 
Were all those wondos wioo^it bj power Avine, 
As means or ends of some move deep dea^ ? 
Most sure as means, whose end was this alone; 
To prove the Godhead of the Elenial Son. 
God thus asserted, man is to bdiere 
Beyond what sense and reason can c o nc eiie ; 
And, for mysterkms thmgs of finth» rtij 
On the propcment, heaven's aothontj. 
If, then, our fiuth we for oar gmde admit. 
Vain is the £irther search of human wit ; 
As when the building gains a smer stsnr. 
We take the unusefbl sfaflBiiding awav. 
Reason by saase no more can midentand : 
The game is play'd into another hand. 
Why chuse we then, like bikmder^^ to oseep 
Along the coast, and land in view to keep. 
When safdy we may launch into the de^? 
In the same vessd, which oar Sarioor bote. 
Himself the {Mlot, let us leave the dboicv 
And with a better guide a better wodd csqp&oie. 
Could he his Godhead veil with fledt and blood,' 
And not veil these ^^ain to be oar fiiod? 
His grace in both is equal in extent. 
The first affords us^lifi^ the second n omishni cnt 
And if he can, why all this fiantic pain. 
To construe what his dearest wotw ^'m \7t H \^ 
And make a riddle wiiat he made «> ^ain ? 
To take up half on trust, and half to try. 
Name it not &ith, but bon^^g bigotry ; 

* Qbuui By-land-cr, an old woid taa m txMrt, ittcd m coMt na«- 


Both knave and fool the merchant we may caU,^ 
To pay great sums, and to compound the small ; I 
For who would break withheaven, and would not f 

break for all ? 
Rest then, my soul, from endless anguish freed ; 
Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed. 
Faith is the best ensurer of thy bliss ; 
The bank above must fidl, before the venture miss. 
But heaven and heaven-born faith are far from 

Thou first apostate to divinity ! 
Unkennell'd range in thy Folonian plains ; 
A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf remains. 
Too boastful Britain, please thyself no more. 
That beasts of prey are banished from thy shore ; 
The Bear, the Boar, and every savage name. 
Wild in effect, though in appearance tame^ 
Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy bliss&l bower, 
And, muzzled though they seem, the mutes devour. 
More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race 
Appears with belly gaunt, and famish'd face 
Never was so deform'd a beast of grace. 
His ragged tail betwixt his tail he wears. 
Close dapp'd for shame ; but his rough crest he 

And pricks up his predestinating ears.* 
His wild disordered walk, his hagard eyes. 
Did all the bestial citizens surprise. 
Though fear'd and hated, yet ne ruled a wh le. 
As captain or companion of the spml. 
f'ull many a year his hateful head had been 
For tribute paid, nor since in Cambria seen ; 
The last of ail the litter 'scaped by chance. 
And from Geneva first infested France. 

Note VIII. 


Some authors thus bis pedigree will trace. 

But others write him of an upstart race ; 

Because of Wickliffe's brood no mark he bruigs. 

But his innate antipathy to kings. 

These last deduce him from the Helvetian kind. 

Who near the Leman-lake his consort lined ; 

That fiery Zuinglius first the affection bred. 

And meagre Calvin blest the nuptial bed. 

In Israel some believe him whelp'd long since. 

When the proud sanhedrim oppress'd the prince ; 

Or, since he will be Jew, derive him higher. 

When Corah ynth his brethren did conspire 

From Moses' hand the sovereign sway to wrest. 

And Aaron of his ephod to divest ; 

Till opening earth made way for all to pass. 

And could not bear the burden of a class.* 

The Fox and he came shuffied in the dark. 

If ever they were stow'd in Noah's ark ; 

Perhaps not made ; for all their barking train 

The dog (a common species) will contain ; 

And some wild curs, who firom their masters ran. 

Abhorring the supremacy of man. 

In woods and caves the rebel-race began. 

O happy pair, how well you have increased ! 
What ills in diurch and state have you redress'd ! 
With teeth, untried, and rudiments of daws. 
Your first essay was on your native laws ; 
Those having torn with ease, and trampled down. 
Your fangs you fasten'd on the mitrea crown. 
And freed from God and monarchy your town. 
What though your native kennel still be small. 
Bounded betwixt a puddle and a wall ;t 

* Alluding to the classical ordination^ which the Presbyterian 
church has adopted, instead of that by Bishops. 

t Geneva, the cradle of Calvinism. The territories of the lit- 
tle republic, dum Trqfajuk, were bounded by its ramparts and 


Yet your victorious colonies are sent 

Where the north ocean girds the continent. 

Quidcen'd with fire below, your monsters l»reed 

In fenny Holland, and in fruitful Tweed ; 

And, like the first, the last affects to be 

Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. 

As, where in fields the fairy rounds are seen, 

A rank sour herbage rises on the green ; 

So, springing where those midnight elves advance, 

Rebellion prints the footsteps of the dance. 

Such are their doctrines, such contempt they ^ow 

To heaven above, and to their prince below. 

As none but traitors and blasphemers know. 

God, like the tyrant of the skies, is placed. 

And kings, like slaves, beneath the crowd debased 

So fulsome is their food, that flocks refuse 

To bite, and only dogs for physic use. 

As, where the lightning runs along the ground. 

No husbandry can heal the blasting wound ; 

Nor bladed grass, nor bearded corn succeeds. 

But scales of scurf and putrefaction breeds ; 

Such wars, such waste, such fiery tracks of dearth 

Their zeal has left, and such a teemless earth. 

But, as the poisons of the deadliest kind 

Are to their own unhappy coasts confined ; 

As oiily Indian shades of sight deprive, ' 

And magic plants will but in Golchos thrive ; 

So presbytery and pestilential zeal 

Can only flourish in a commonweal. 

From Celtic woods is chased the wolfish crew ;* 

But ah ! some pity e'en to brutes is due ; 

Their native walks, methitiks, they might enjoy, 

Curb'd of their native malice to destroy. 

* Alluding to the recal of the Edict of Nantz, and persecu* 
tion of the Huguenots. See Note IX. 


Of all the tyrannies on human-kind, 
The worst is that which persecutes the mind. 
Let us but weigh at what offence we strike ; 
'Tis but because we cannot think alike. 
In punishing of this, we overthrow 
The laws of nations and of nature too. 
Beasts are the subjects of tyrannic sway, 
Where still the stronger on the weaker prey ; 
Man only of a softer mould is made. 
Not for his fellows' ruin, but their aid ; 
Created kind, beneficent and free, 
The noble image of the Deity. 

One portion of informing fire was given 
To brutes, the inferior family of heaven. 
The smith divine, as with a careless beat. 
Struck out the mute creation at a heat ; 
But, when arrived at last to human race. 
The Godliead took a deep considering space ; 
And, to distinguish man from all the rest. 
Unlocked the sacred treasures of his breast. 
And mercy mixt with reason did impart. 
One to his head, the other to his heart ; 
Reason to rule, but mercy to forgive ; 
The first is law, the last prerogative. 
And. like his mind his outward form appear'd. 
When, issuing naked to the wondering herd, "] 
He charm'd their eyes ; and, for they loved, they >• 

fear'd. ) 

Not arm'd with horns of arbitrary might. 
Or claws to seize their fiery spoils in fight. 
Or with increase of feet to o'ertake them in their 

Of easy shape, and pliant every way. 
Confessing still the softness, of his clay. 
And kind as kings upon their coronation day, 

* Which is usually distinguished by an act of grace^ or general 


With open hands, and with extended space 
Of arms, to satisfy a large embrace. 
Thus kneaded up with milk, the new-made Man 
His kingdom o'er his kindred world b^an ; 
Till knowledge misapplied, misunderstood. 
And pride of empire, sour'd his balmy blood. 
Then, first rebelling, his own stamp he coins ; 
The murderer Cain was latent in his loins ; 
And blood began its first and loudest cry^ 
For differing worship of the Deity. 
Thus persecution rose, and farther space 
Produced the Mighty Hunter* of his liace. 
Not so the blessed Panf his flock increased. 
Content to fold them fi-om the famish'd beast : 
Mild were his laws ; the sheep and harmless hind 
Were never of the persecuting kind. 
Such pity now the pious pastor shows. 
Such mercy fi-om the British Lion .flows,J 
That both provide protection from their foes. 

Oh, happy regions, Italy and Spain, 
Which never did those monsters entertain ! 
The Wolf, the Bear, the Boar, can there advance 
No native claim of just inheritance ; . 
And self-preserving laws, severe in show. 
May guard their fences from the invading foe. 
Where birth has placed them, let them safely share 
The common benefit of vital air ; 
Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd. 
Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarm'd; 
Here, only in nocturnal bowlings bold. 
They dare not seize the Hind, nor leap the fcdd. 

* Nimrod. 
t Jesus Christ 
X King James II. 


More poirerfoly and as vigilant as they, » 

The luBQin awfully fcurbsds die prey. 

Their rage rqmsfi'd, though pindi'd with &mine 

They stand aloo^ and tremble at his roar ; 
Much is. their hunger, but their fear is more. 
These are the dim; to number o'er the rest, 
And stand, Uke Adam, naming every beast, 
Were weary wcnrk; nor will the muse describe 
A slimy^-bcmi and sun-begotten tribe ; 
Who, fiir from steeples and their sacred sound, 
*In fields their sullen conventicles found.^ 
These gross, half-animated, lumps I leave ; 
Nor can } think what thoughts they can conceive 
But if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher 
Than matter, put in motion, may aspire ; 
Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of day ;\ 
So drossy, so divisible are they, v 

As would but serve pure bodies for allay ; } 

Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things 
As only buz to heaven with evenmg wings ; 
Strike in the dark, offimding but by diance. 
Such are the Uindfold blows of ^orance. 
They know not beings, and but hate a name ; 
To mem the Hind and Panther are the same. 
^ The Panther, sure the noblest, next the Hind, 
And fiureat creature of tibe spotted kind ; 
Oh, could her in-born stains be wash'd away. 
She were too good to be a beast of prey ! 
How can I fHraise, or blame, and not oSend, 
Or how divide the frailty fmta the friend ? 
Her &ult8 and virtues lie so mix'd, that site 
Nor wholly stands condemn'd, nor wholly free. 


VOL. X. ^ I 


Then, like her injured Lion, let roe speak ; 

He cannot bend ner, and he would not break. 

Unkind already, and estranged in part. 

The Wolf begins to share her wandering heart. 

Though impolluted jet with actual ill. 

She half commits who sins but in her wall.^ 

If, as our dreaming Platonists report, . j 

There could be spirits of a middle sort. 

Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell, 

Who just dropt half-way down, ncH^lower ;feU i^ 

So poised, so gently she descends from hi^, . . 

It seems a soft dismission from the sky. 

Her house not ancient, whatsoe'er pret^ioe 

Her clergy-heralds mske in her d^ence ; 

A second century not half-way run. 

Since the new honours of her blood begun. 

A lion, old, obscene, and furioua made i ' 

By lust, compress'd her mother in a shade ; 

Then, by a left-hand marriage, weds the dame. 

Covering adultery with a specious name ;f 

So schism begot ; and sacrilege and she, 

A well matched pair, got graceless heresy. 

God's and kings' rebels have the same good caus^ 

To trample down divine and human laws ; 

* Our author recollected his own Philadel in *' King Arthur:' 

Ao airy shape, the tenderest of my kind, 

The last seduoed and least deformed of hdl ; ' ' 

Half-white, and shuffled in the crowd 1 feU, ; i 

Desirous to repent and loath to sin, 

Awkward in mischief, piteous of mankind ; 

My name is Philidd, my lot in air, 

Where, next beneath the moon, and nearest heaven, 

I soar, I have a glimpse to be received. 

Vol. Vill. p. 135. 

t Henry the Eighth's passion for Anna BuUen led the way 
to the Reformation. 


Both would be call'd reformers, and their hate 
Alike destructive botii to church and state. 
The i&iiit proclaims the plant ; a lawless prince ' 
By luxury reform'd incontinence ; 
By ruins, <charity ; by riots, abstinence. 
Confessions^ fasts, and penance set aside, 
Oh, with what ease we follow such a guide. 
Where souls are starved, and senses gratified ! 
Where marriage pleasures midnight prayer supply, ^ 
And matin b^, a melancholy cry, f 

Are tuned to merrier notes. Increase and Multi* % 
ply.* ^ 

Rdigion shews a rosy-colour'd face ; If 

Not nattered f out with drudging works of grace ; r 
A down-hill reformation rolls apace. y 

What flesh and blood would crowd the narrow gate, 1 
Or, till they waste their pamper'd paunches, wait? i 
All would be happy at the cheapest rate. ^ 

Though our lean faith these rigid laws has given. 
The full-fed Musselman goes fet to heaven ; 
For his Arabian prophet with delights 
Of sense allured his eastern proselytes. 
The jolly Luther, reading him, began 
To interpret Scriptures by his Alcoran ; 
To grub the thorns beneath our tender feet, 
And make the paths of paradise more sweet, 
Bethought him of a wife, ere half way gone. 
For 'twas uneasy travelling alone ; 
And, in this masquerade of mirth and love. 
Mistook the bliss of heaven for Bacchanals above. 
Sure he presumed of praise, who came to stock 
The etherial pastures with so fair a flock. 

* The marriage of the dergy^ licensed by the ReformatioD. 
t Worn out, x)r become hard. 


Bumisb'dy and battening on their food, to show 
Their diligence of careful herds below.* 
Our Panther, though like these sfie ehanged her 
Yet, as the mistress of a monardi's bed,f 
Her front erect with maiesty she bore. 
The crosier wielded, and the mitre wore. 
Her upper part of decent discipline 
Shew'd affectation of an ancient line ; 
And fathers, councils, church and churches head, 
Were on her rev'rend phylacteries ^ read. 
But what disgraced and disavow'd the rest^ 
Was Calvin's brand, that stigmatized the' beast 
Thus, like a creature of a double kind. 
In her own labyrinth she lives confined ; 
To foreign lands no sound of her is come. 
Humbly content to be despised at home. 
Such is her &ith, where good cannot be had, ' 
At least she leaves the refuse of the bad : 
Nice in her choice of ill, though not of best. 
And least deform'd, because reformed the least* 
In doubtful points betwixt her differing friends. 
Where one for substance, one for sign contends. 

* A Popish advocate^ in the contxoversy with Teimiaon, tells 
us exultingly^ ** That Martin Luther himself^ Dr 'Fa ezc^ent 
instrument^ after he had eat a feasting supper^ and drank Itdher* 
aniciy as the German proverb has it, wai called into ano&er 
world at two o'clock in uie night, February 18, 154&" This was 
one of the reasons why his adversaries alleged, that Martin Lu- 
ther set sail for hell in the manner described by Sterne, in bis 
tale from Slawkenbergius. 

f The king being owned the head of the Church of England, 
contrary to the doctrine of the other reformed churches. 

J Phylacteries are little scrolls of parchment worn by the Jews 
on their foreheads and wrists, inscribed with senteni^es from the 
law. They are supposed, as is expressed by the phrase in the 
original, to have the virtue of preserving the wearer from danger 
and evil. 


Hieir contradicting terms fihe strives to join ;^ 
Sign shall be sabstance^ substance shall be sign, 
A real presence all her sons allow» "% 

And yet 'tis flat idolatry to bow» L 

Because the god Jiead's tibere they know not how. ) 
Her novices are taught, that bread and wine 
Are but the visible and outward sign, 
Beceived by those who in communion join ; 
But the inward grace, or the thing signified. 
His blood and body, who to save us died,f 
The faithful this thing signified receive. 
What is't those faithful then partake or leave ? 
For, what is signified and understood. 
Is, by her own confession, flesh and blood. 
Then, by the same acknowledgment, we know 
They take the sign, and take the substance too. 
The literal sense is hard to flesh and blood. 
But nonsense never can be understood. 

Her wild belief on every wave is tost ; 
But sure no church can better morals hoaat. 
True to her king her principles are found ; 
Oh that her practice were but half so sound l^ 
Sted&st in various turns of state she stood. 
And seal'd her vow'd affectioD with her blood :§ 

* The Latlieraiis adopt the doctnne of coDsnbi^^ tbat 

MB to mjf ihey bdieve, Aat, dKmgh the dements «e not duinged 
into tbe bod^ and blood of Chrut by eonieeratioa, wbicb k the 
Roman &idi» jet the partkipanta, at tbe m oment of to mnmni ' 
catiog^ do actnalljreoeiTe the real bodjr and blood. TbeCalrm- 
lata atteri J deny the feal presence m the eoAm^ mod sMrm, 
that the trvxda of CIttiat were onlj a jrmboBcaL The ciiufdi of 
England annooneea a doeuine aonewiiat betwem these. 8ee 
Note XL 

t Note XL 

t Note XtL 

§ Anoding to Uie fide of the chauacb and mo mr thv of Eo^< 
land, wfaidi fidl togedier in the grvat rebeUmc See Note XL 


Nor win I meanly tax her constancy. 
That interest or oUmement made tibe tye^ 
Bound to the fate ofmrnnder^d monarchy. 
Before the sounding axe so fidk the vkie^ 
Whose tender brandies round the pojfdar 
She chose her ruin, and resign'd her hSs, 
tn death undaunted as an Indian wife : 
A rare example ! but some souls we see 
Grow hard, and stiffen with advi^raty. 
Yet these by fortune's &vours are undone ; . 
Resolved,* into a baser form they run. 
And bore the wind, but cannot bear die smi. 
Let this be nature's fhdlty, or her fete^ 
Or Isgrim's counsel, her new-chosen mate,t 
Still she's the fairest of the &llen crew ;. 
No mother more indulgent, but the true. 

Fierce to her foes, yet fears her force to try. 
Because she wants innate authority ; 
For how can she constrain them to obey. 
Who has herself cast off the lawAil sway ? 
Rebellion equals all, and those, who tou 
In common theft, will share the common spoil. 
Let her produce the title and the right,. 
Against her old superiors first to fi^t ; 
If she reform by text, even that's as plain 
For her own rebels to reform again. 
As long as words a different sense will bear. 
And each may be his own interpreter. 
Our airy faith will no foundation find. 
The word's a weathercock for every wind : 
The Bear, the Fox, the Wolf, by turns prevail ; 
The most in power supplies the present gale. 
The wretched Panther cries aloud for aid 
To church and councils, whom she first betray 'd ; 

* Resdvedy i. e. dissolved. 

t The Wolf, or Presbytery.— See Note XIIL 


Ko help fiom fathers or tradition's traiii : 
Those ancient guides she taught us to disdain. 
And by that Scripture, which she once abused 
To reformation, stands herself accused.* 
What bills for breach of laws can she prefer, 
[Expounding which she owns herself may err ? 
^tid, after all her winding ways are tried. 
If doubts arise, she slips herseU* aside. 
And leaves the private conscience for the guide. 
If, then, that conscience set the offender free. 
It bars her claim to church authority. 
How can she censure, or what crime pretend. 
But Scripture may be construed to defend ? 
Even those, whom for rebellion she transmits 
To civil power, her doctrine first acquits ; 
Because no disobedience can ensue. 
Where no submission to a judge is due ; 
!Each judging for himself by her consent. 
Whom, thus absolved, she sends to punishment. 
Suppose the magistrate revenge her cause, 
'TIS only for transgressing human laws. 
How answering to its end a church is made. 
Whose power is but to counsel and persuade ? 
O solid rock, on which secure she stands ! 
Eternal house, not built with mortal hands ! 
O sure defence against the infernal gate, 
A Patent during pleasure of the state ! 

Thus is the Panther neither loved nor fear'd, 
A mere mock queen of a divided herd ; 
Whom soon by lawfid power she might controul. 
Herself a part submitted to the whole. 
Then, as tne moon who first receives the light 
By which she makes our nether regions bright. 
So might she shine, reflecting fix)m afar 
The rays she borrowed fi-om a better star ; 

♦ Note XIV. 


Big with the beams trhidi ftcm her motherflow/ 
And mgning o'er the rising tides bdoir :* 
Now, mixing with a savage crowd, she jgbeB^ 
And meanly flatters her invet^^ate foes ; 
Ruled while she rules, and losing every hour 
Her wretched remnants of precarious power* . 
i. One evening, while the cooler shade she aoughty 
Revolving many a melancholy thought, 
Alotie she walk'd, and look'd around in vain. 
With rueful visage, for her vanished train : 
None of her sylvan subjects made th^ court ; 
Lev^ and conchies pass'd without resort. 
So hardly can usurpers manage well 
Those> whom they first instructed to rebel : 
More liberty begets desire of more ; 
The hunger still increases with the store. 
Without l-espect, they brush'd along the wood^ \ 
Each in his clan, and, filVd with loathsome ibc^ > 
Ask'd no permission to the neighbouring flood. / 
The Panther, full of inward disoHitent, 
Since they would go, before them wisely wient $ 
Supplying want of power by drinking first. 
As if she gave them leave to quench th«r thirst 
Amon^ the rest, the Hind, with fearful iaoe^ 
Beheld from far the common watering place* 
Nor durst approach ; till with an awfol roar 
The sovereign Lion bade her fear no more«f 
Encouraged thus, she brought her younglinj^ l^b» 
Watching the motions of her patron'b eye, 

t . ifc« 4jiaifci— ai^,^ 

* That is, if the Church of England would be t«OMidled Id 
Rome, she should be gratified with a delegated porttdil «f innate 
authority over the rival sectaries ; instead of being obliged t» 
depend upon the civil power for protection. 

t Alluding to the exeifcise of uie dispensing poWer, lUid the 
Declaration of Indulgence* 



And drank a sober draught ; the rest^ amazed, 
Btood mutely still, and on the stranger gazed ; 
Siirvey'd her part by part» and sought to find 
The ten4iom'd monster in the harmless Hindi 
Such as the Wolf and Panther had design'dL^ 
They thoaght at first they dream'd; for 'twas dSenee 
With tfaem, to question certitude of sense. 
Their guide in faith : but nearer when they drew, 1 
And bid the faultless object full in view, > 

Lord, how they all admired her heavenly hue ! } 
Some, who, before, har fellowship disdain'd, Y 
Scarce,andbutscarce,from in-born rage restrain'd, >- 
l^ow fiisk'd about her, and old kindred feign'd* y 
W hether for love or interest, every sect 
Of all the savage nation shew'd respect. 
The viceroy Panther could not awe the h»d ; 
The more the company, the less they fear'd. 
The surly Wolf with secret envy burst, ^ 

'Yetoouldnotkowl; (theHindhadseaihimfirst^)f L 
3ut what he durst not speak, the Panther durst } 

For when the herd^ sufficed, did late repair 
To ferny heathis, and to their forest' lair. 
She made a mannerly excuse to stay. 
Proffering the Hind to wait her half the way ; 

* The ten-horned monster^ in the Revelations^ was usually ex- 
plained by the reformers as typical of the Church of Rome. 

t There was a classical superstition, that, if a wolf saw a man 
before he saw the wolf^ the person lost his voice : 

iooxque Mterin 

Jamfugit ipsa: lupi Mcerin videre prioret. 

Dryden has adopted^ in the text^ the converse of this supersti- 
tious oelief. 



That, since the sky was dear, an hour of talk 
Might help her to b^uile the tedious walk. 
With much good-wiU the motion was embraced. 
To chat a while on their adventures pass'd ; 
Kor bad the grateful Hind so soon forgot 
Her friend and fellow*sufierer in the plot* 
Yet wondering how of late she grew estranged, 
Her forehead doudy, and her countenance changed, 
She thought this hour the occasion would present, 
To learn her secret cause of discontent ; 
Which well she hoped, might be witb^ ease re-' 

dress'd, ' ^: . 

Considering her a well-bred dvil beast. 
And more a gentlewoman than the rest. 
After some common talk what rumours ran. 
The lady of the spotted muff began* 

* Although the Roman Catholic plot was made the pretence 
of persecuting the Papists in the first instance, yet the high-fly- 
ing party of the Church of £ngland were also levelled at, and 
accused of being Tantivies^ Papists in masquerade^ &c &c. 

•.' t 


I# . I 





Note I. 

And doom'dto death though fated not to die^^^V, 119* 

• The critics fastened on this line with great exultation^ condu* 
ding, that doomed and fitted meant precisely the same thing* 
*' Faith, Mr Bayes/' sayv one of these gentlemen, ** if you were 
doomed to be lumged, whatever vou were JiUed to 'twoidd give 
you but small cmnf<nt." * This criticism is quite erroneous ; 
doom, in its general acceptation, meaning merely a sentence of 
ainrldnd ; the pronounang which by no means necessarily im« 
pfaes its execution. In the criminal courts of Scotland, the sen-^ 
tenoe is always concluded with this formula, '* and this I pro* 
nounoe for doom." Till of late years, a special officer recited the 
sentence after the judge, and was thence called the doomtierff 
an office now performed by the derk of court. The criticism 
is founded on the word doom having been often, and even gene- 
rally, used as synonimous to the sentence of heaven, and there^ 
fore inevitable. But in the text, it is obvious that the doom, or 

* Hiad and Panther TniitTened. 

t Thif oflfee WM usnallj hdd bv the executioner, who, to this extent, wa» 
a plimlift ; and the change was chieflj made, to prevent the necessity of produ- 
cing that penon in court, to the aggiayation of the criminaFs terrors. 


sentence, of an earthly tribunal is placed in oppoaiticm (o the 
decree of Providence. 

Note II. 

The Uoody Bear, an independent beasi, 
UnUci^d to farms, S^.—Y. 120. 

The sect of Independents arose to great eminence in the Cinl 
Wars, when the enthusiastic spitits were deemed entitled to pre- 
ferment upon earth, in proportion to the extravagance of tneir 
religions zeal. Huine hiu admirably described their leading te- 
nets, or rather the scorn with which they discarded the pnnci- 
pies of other veligkniB sects ; for their peculiarities consisted mudi 
more i|i their neglect and contempt of all forms, than in any lyiles 
or dogttata of their own. 

'' 'Die Independents rejected all ecclesiastical establiahmentii 
and would admit of no spiritual courts — no government anumg 
pastors— no interposition of the magistrate in religious concerns 
— 410 fixed encouragement annexed to any system of doctrines or 
opinions. According to their principles, each congregation, uni- 
ted voluntarily and by spiritual ties, composed, within itself, a 
separate church, and exercised a jurisdiction, but one destitute of 
temporal sanctions, over its own pastor and its own monben. 
Tlie election alone of the congregation was sufficient to bestow 
the sacerdotal character ; and, as all essential distinction wiu de^ 
ni^ between tlie laity and the dergy, no eeiemonj, no iaititii^ 
tion, no Toeation, bo imposition of hands, was» as in ail otlMr 
ehurches^ supposed teqmsite to convey a rig^ to holy 4takft. 
TIm eu^usiasm of the Presbyterians led tbim to r^ot ths «•* 
thority of prelatc6--^to throw off the restraint of iltUfgies^M^o re* 
trendb cttemonie»o-to Hmit the riches and authority of the posit* 
ly offieew* The fenaricirmi of tiie Independents, exahed to a lu|^ 
er pitch, abdiahed ecclesiastical gpyemment-^isdainad meds 
and sjrstcms-^oegleoted every ceremony^^Huid confimnded wSi 
raldoi and orders. The soldier, the merchant, the mechanic, in^ 
dvd^iag the llervours of seal, and guided by the illapaes <if the 
spirit, lesigned himself te an inwiml and superior direetioB, and 
was consemited, in a manna:, by an immecUate interooaMs and 
conuuunioation with heaven." 

Botkr tinus deacribes the Independents t 

j/n6 iiidcpciidcniSf wnose first station 
Was in the rear of reformation : 
A mongrel kind of church dngeoost 
That served fcr facnrae and foot at oiioe« 
Attd in the saddle «f otM stMd, 
The Saiacen aad Chnstian rid« 


, Were free of ev^ryqalzUual order* 

To preeeh* and fight^ and prey, and moidert 

It is well known^ that these sectaries obtained the fimd aacen- 
dancy in the ciyil war9« Cromwell^ their chief* was highly gifted 
aa a preacher as well as distinguidied as a warrior ; witness his 
'^ leanied, devout^ and conscientious exemae, held at Sir Peter 
Temple's, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, upon Boooans, xiii. 1/' 

« ■ 

Note III. 

Among the timorous kind, the quaking ffure 
Professed neutrality, hut would not swear, — P. 1^0. 


As Mr Hume's account of the rise of this sect (the Quakers) is 
imcemmonly lively, I take the liberty to insert it at length; 
though, perhaps, the passage does not call for so prolonged a 
qiiotati<»i. Aner describing the ascetic solitude of George Fox, 
uieir founder, he proceeds': 

*< When he had been sufficiently consecrated, in hia own ima- 
gination, he felt that the fumes of self*applause soon dissipate, if 
not continually supplied by the admiration of others ; and he be» 
gaa to seek proselytes. Proselytes were easily gained, at a time 
when all men's affections were turned towards religion, and when 
extravagant modes of it were sure to be most popular. All Ae 
forms of ceronony, invented by pride and ostentation. Fox and 
liis disciples, ^om a superior pride and ostentation, carefully re* 
jected : Even the ordinary rites of civility were shunned, as the 
nourishment of carnal vanity and self-conceit. They would be» 
stow no titles of distinction i The name of friend was the only sa- 
lutation with which they indiscriminately accosted every onew To 
no person would they make a bow, or move their hat, or give any 
signs of reverence. Instead of that affected adulation introduced 
into modem tongues, of speaking to individuals as if they were a 
mnltitude, they returned to the simplicity of ancient languages; 
and than and thee were the only expressicms whidi, on any con« 
sidetation, they would be brought to employ. 
• ** Dress too» a material circumstance, distinguished the ntem* 
bers of this sect. Every superfluity and <n*nament was carefully 
letrenched : Noplaits to their coat, no buttons to their sleeves x 
No lace, no ruffles, no embroidery. Even a button to the hat, 
though sometimes useful, yet not being always so, was univer- 
sally rejected by them with horror and detestation. 

*' The violent enthusiasm of Uiis sect, like all high passions^ 
being too strong for the weak nerves to sustain, threw the preach- 
ers into convulsions, and shakings, and distortions in their limbs ; 
and they thence received the appellation of Quakers. Amidst 


the gteat toleration whidi was then jpranted to all sects, and even 
cnoonraffement given to all innovations, this sect alone suffered 
Mrsecntion. From the fervour of their seal) the Qnakflrs hpdke 
mto churches, disturbed public worship, and harassed die mi* 
nister and audience with railing and reproadies. When camed 
befinre a maffistratey they refused him all reverence, mad treated 
him with the same fiuniliarity as if he had been Aeir ecnuL 
Sometimes they were thrown into mad-houses, sometimes mto 
prisons; sometimes whipped, sometimes pilloried. The patience 
and fOTtitude with whidi thej suffered, b^^t oomraaaion, ad- 
miration, esteem. A sujpematural ^irit was bdievea to support 
them under those suffermgs, which the ordinary state of huma- 
nity, fireed from the illusions of passion, is unable to sustain* 

*' The Quakers creep'd into the army : But* as they preadied 
universal peace, they seduced the military sealots firom tneir pro- 
fession, and would soon, had they been sufieredy have put an end, 
without any defeat or calamity, to the dominion or the saiiiti. 
These attempts became a fresh ground for persecution, and a new 
reason for tneir progress among the people. 

" Morals, with tins sect, were camed, or affected to be carried, 
to the same di^ree of extravagance as religion. Give ^ Qpaker 
A Mow on one cheek, he held up the other : Ask his ddke, he 

Sve you his coat also. The greatest interest could not engMR 
SI in any court of judicature, to swear even to the truth. Us 
never asked more for his wares than the precise sum whidi lie 
was determined to accept. This last maxim is laudable, and con- 
tinues still to be religiously observed by that sect. 

" No fanatics ever carried &rther the hatred to ceremonies, 
fonns, orders, rites, and positive institutions. Even baptism and 
the Lond's supper, by aU other sects believed to be interwoven 
with the very vitals of Christianity, were disdainfiilly r^ectodby 
them. The very Sabbath they profaned. The holiness of chundies 
they derided ; and they would give to these sacred edifices no 
other appellation than that of shops, or steeple-houses. No piiestB 
were admitted in their sects : Every one had receivec^ firam 
immediate illumination, a character much superior to the sacer- 
dotal. When they met for divine worship, each rose up in his 
place, and delivered the extemporary inspirations of the Holy 
Ghost : Women were also admitted to teach the brethren, and 
were considered as proper vehicles to convey the dictates of the 
spirit. Sometimes a great many preachers were moved to speak 
at once; sometimes a total silence prevailed in their congrega- 

''Some Quakers attempted to fast forty days, in imitation of 
Christ; and one of them bravely perished in the experiment. A 


lemale Quaker came naked into the church ^ere the protecl«ir 
mat ; being moved by the spirit, as she said, to appear as a sign 
to €bie people. A number of them fimcied, that the raunration 
of all things had commenced^ and that clothes were to be reject- 
ed, together with other superfluitie8.--The sufferings which £bl» 
lowed the practice of this doctrine, were a species <^ perseoutiiMi 
not well calculated for promoting it." 

The Quakers were particularly favoured by James IX^ owing 
to the interest which Penn, the settler of Pennsylvama, had wit£ 
that monarch. That person took a lead in the controversy con* 
ceming the Indulgence, by publishing a pamphlet, entitled, 
'^ Good Advice to the Church of Engiuid/' 

Note IV, 

Next her, the buffoon Ape, as atheists use, 
' Mimick'd all sects y and had Ms own to chuse; 
StUl, when the Lion look'd, his knee^ he bentf 
And paid at church a courtier^s compliment.'^F. 120. 

The sect of free-thinkers^ who professed a disbelief in revealed 

■ religion, was to be found even among the fitnatical ranks of the 
■Lon^ Parliament. Harvey, Martin, Sidney, and others, were 
•considered as the chiefii of this party. After the restoration of 

Charles 11., these loose principles became prevalent among his 

• gay courtiers, and were supposed to have been prevalently adopt- 
ed by the king himself, who was educated by the sceptic Hobbes. 
As the fireei-thinkers taught a total disbelief of revelation, and 
indifference for religious forms, they left their disciples at libert- 
^ occasionally to conform to whatever creed, or form of wor- 

'unp, might appear most conducive to their temporal interests. 

Sunderland was supposed to belong to this sect, tor he made his 

- diange to Popery, without even the form of previous instruction 

. or eonfierence ; evincing to the whole world, that, being totally 

• indifierent about all religions, he was ready to embrace any that 

■ would best serve his immediate views. This statesman's charao 
ter, as a latitudinarian in religion, is mentioned with great bit- 
terness by the Princess Anne, afterwards queen, in her private 
correspondence with hier sister, the Princess of Orange. — See 
Dalrympl^s Memoirs, Vol. II. p. I69. 8va edit Dry den pro- 
bably intended a sarcasm at Sunderland, or some such time-ser- 
ving courtier, for his occasional conformity with the royal faith, 
of which there were several instances at the time. These per- 
sons, as they attended James to mass, were compared to Naaman, 
who, on adopting the Jewish religion, craved an indulgence for 
waiting upon his master to the house of the idol Rimmon. It is 
hinted in '^ The Hind and Panther Transversed," that Dryden's 


titiie it ptnonal ; for he is made to quote the fines, end to ad^ 
bj wmj of eonmentaiTt '' That gaUs somewhere I Emd, I em- 
not leaTe it off, though I were cudgelled ennry day m it." 

The ehttich par^, among other pamphlets intended to vkBeak 
AeDedaratioDofuidulgence, and as aparody of the addresses of 
the dissenters on that oocasion* publiriied, ^ To the King's Moit 
Excellent Majesty, the Humble Address of the Atheiats^ or tht 
Sect ef Epicureans.* After congratulatiB^ the ldiM^«Qii havmg 
Aeed his subjects from the solemn superstition of oma, tiier pio- 
oeed : *' Your majesty was pleased to wish, that all yovraBDJsets 
were of your own religion ; aod perhaps every division winhte yon 
were of theirs ; but, for our parts, we freely declare, that if ever 
we should be obliged to proress any religion, we would jKrefer the 
Church of Rome, which does not much trouble the woild with 
the affairs of invisible beings, and is very civil and indulgent to 
the fiulin^s of human nature. That church can ease ua firam die 
grave fitti^es of religion, and, for our monies^ allow uf^mnaes, 
-both for piety and penances : We can easily swidlow end digest 
a wafer deity, and will never cavil at the mass in an unknown 
tongue> when the sacrifice itself is so unintdligifale. We shall 
never scruple the adorationof an ima^, when the cfai^fost leUgioD 
is but imagination; and we sre wiUinff to allow the Fopeaiiab- 
aolute power to dispense with all penal laws, in this wond and is 
another. But before we return to Rome, die greatest origin d 
8theism> we wish the Pope, and all his vassal princes, would free 
the world from the fear of hell and devils, the inquisition and 
dragoons, and that he would take off the chimney-money ef por- 
gatoxy» and custom and excise of pardons and indoigcBciei^ 
which are so much inconsistent with the flourishing trade and 
grandeur of the nation. As for the engagements of lives and 
rartnnes, the common compliment of addressers, we eoofissi we 
have a more peculiar tenderness for those most sscred oooesm- 
ments ; but yet we will hazard them in defence of your nunestjy 
with as mudi constancy and resolution as your majesty wul ds- 
£end your indulguice ; that is, so fisu: as the adventure will serve 
our designs and interest 

From the Devil-Tavern, the 5th of 
November, l6S8. Presented by 
Justice Baldock, and was gra- 
ciously received," 


Notp V. 

The brUtled baptist Boar, impure as he. 

But tvhiten'd imh the foam of sanctity , 

With fat pollutions ^fiird the sacred place. 

And mountains levelTd in hisjurious race; 

So first rebellion founded was in grace. 

But since the mighty ravage, tohu:h he made 

In German forests, had his guilt betraj/d, 

With broken tusks, and mth a borrou}'d name, 

He shunn'd the vengeance, and coxceard the shame. 

P. 120. 

The sect of Anabaptists^ whose principal tenet is the disallowing 
of infant baptism^ arose in Germany and the Low Countries about 
the year 1521. This new light, for such it was esteemed, hap- 
pened unfortunately to appear to some of the most ignorant and 
ferocious of the Low German burghers and boors. Thomas Mun<« 
<:ery by birth a Saxon» was the principal apostle of this sect. 
He preached both against the Papists and Luther^ recommending 
the eschewing of open crimes^ the chastening of the body by se^ 
verities of abstinence^ and the wearing a long beard. With these 
tenets, he combined that of an immediate intercourse with God^ 
by demanding of him signs and tokens, which would be infallibly 
granted, and that of an universal community of goods. These two 
&8t doctrines, concerning spiritual and temporal matters, were ad- 
mirably calculated to turn the heads of his followers. Being banish- 
ed from Saxony, he seized upon the monasteryof Muhlhans,from 
which he expelled the monks ; and afterwards made a convert of 
one Pfeifer, a daring enthusiast, who» because in a dream he had 
put to flight an innumerable number of mice, made no doubt he 
was destined to vanquish all principalities and powers. Muncer 
easily prevailed on this visionary conqueror to head the miners of 
the country of Mansfeldt, in^some ferocious inroads into Saxony. 
The Dukes of Saxony and Brunswick, the Landgrave of Hesse, 
and other German princes, marched against these madmen, whom 
Muncer stimulated to resistance, by assuring them, that a rain- 
bow, which happened then to be visible, was an indubitable sign 
of victory. The poor deluded wretches accordingly suffered 
themselves to be quietly cut to pieces, with their eyes fixed on 
the heavenly sign, in expectation of divine assistance. Muncer 
was made prisoner, and recanted before his death, only blaming 
the princes for their cruelty and oppreission to their vassals, which 
drove them to desperation ; — so, if he lived a false prophet, he 
died a true preacher. His death, and that of Pfeifer, with the 
slaughter made among their followers, did not extirpate the he»e- 
ay ; and the most dreadful consequences attended, for some time, 

VOL. X. K 


the progress of those enthusiastic opinions. A tailor, called Bock- 
liolutt better known by the name of John of Leyden, with his as- 
sociates, Rotman, M atthews, and Cnipperdoling, in 1535, actually 
possessed themselves of the city of Munster, expelled the bishopi 
and commenced the reign of the saints. Their leader^ under the 
strange and horrible delusion that he was inspired by the Holy 
Ghost, played the most outrageous pranks of lust and cruelty that 
ever madness dictated* Yet, amidst their frensy, the Anabaptists 
had valour and conduct sufficient to defend the dty for a length of 
time against the bishop and his allies ; and, while the unfortunate 
inhabitants were in the utmost misery, the enthunaata themselves 
revelled in the indulgence of every licentious appetite. At lengtli 
the city was taken, and a cruel, though deserved punishment, in- 
flicted upon those who had been the leadery in this holy warfiure. 
John of Ley den himself was torn to pieces with hot pincers. After 
this memorable event, those who retamed the principles of this sect 
were not desirous of beine distinguished by a name which the ex- 
cesses of these fanatics had rendered an abomination to all the 
Christian world. They were generally confounded with the In- 
dependents, with whom they hold many principles in common, 
particularly, I believe, the disavowal of any clerical order. Yet 
if, for a time, they '' lurked in sects unseen," as Dryden assures 
us, the sunshine of general toleration soon brought them out un- 
der their own proper appellation. We have, among the addresses 
of various classes of dissenters upon the Declaration oflndulgence, 
that of the Anabaptists in and about the city of London, who, in- 
deed, were the very first in expressing their thanks and loyalty. 
The Anabaptists of Leicestershire, the Independents and Baptists 
of Gloucester, the Anabaptists of Cheshire, Shropshire, and Staf- 
fordshire, &C. &c. &c. all came forward with loyal acclamations 
on the same occasion. 

Note VL 

With greater guile 

False Reynard foil an consecrated spoil; 

The graceless beast by Athananusjirst 

Was chased from Nice, then by Socinus nursed, — P. 121. 

Arius, the propagator of a great heresy in the Christian church, 
denied that God the Son was equal to God the Father, or that he 
was coexistent with him. See page 16. This doctrine he maintain- 
ed in the council at Nice against Athanasius, the champion of or- 
thodoxy ; and although his doctrines were condemned by the gene- 
ral council, and he himself banished, yet his party was so powerful 
as to accomplish his restoration, and the banishment of Athanasius, 
who fled into the Thebais, or deserts of Upper £g3npt. The schism 


thus occasioned^ continued long to divide the Christian church. 
Lelius Socinus, a nobleman of Sienna, revived and enlarged the 
doctrine of Arius^ about the latter end of the sixteenth century* 
His nephew Faustus collected^ arranged, and published his opi- 
nions, which have since had many followers. The Socinians 
teach the worship of one God^ without distinction of persons ; 
affirming, that the Holy Ghost is but another expression for the 
iwer of God ; and that Jesus Christ is only the Son of God 
' adoption. As they deny our Saviour's divinity^ they disavow, 
course, the doctrine of redemption, and consider him only as a 
prophet, gifted with a more than usual share of inspiration, and 
aealiDg his mission by his blood. This heresy has, at different 
times, and under various disguises and modifications, insinuated 
itself into the Christian church, forming, as it were, a resting- 
place, though but a tottering one, between natural and revealed 
religion. Here, I fear, the author's lines apply :— 

To take up half on trust, and half to try. 

Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry ; 

Both knave and fool the merchant we may call. 

To pay great sums, and to compound the small ; 

For who would break with heaven, and would not break for all ? 

This heretical belief was adopted by the Protestants of Poland and 
of Hungary, especially those who were about this time in arms 
under Count Teckeli against the emperor. Hence Dryden bids 
the Fox, 

Unkcnneird, range in thy Polonian plains. 

Note Vn, 

Let them declare hy vJiat mysterious arts 

He shot that body through the opposing might, 

Of bobs and bars, impervious to the light. 

And stood before his train confessed in open sight, — P. 122. 

*' Then the same day, at evening, being the first day of the 
week, when the doors were shut, where the disciples were assem- 
bled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus, and stood in the midst, and 
saith unto them. Peace be unto you." 

Again, " And after eight days, again his disciples were within, 
and Thomas with them ; then came Jesus, the doors being shut, 
and stood in the midst, and said. Peace be unto you."— T/ie Goj* 
pel of St John, chap. xx. verses 19. 26. 

From these passages of Scripture, Dryden endeavours to con- 
fute the objection to transubstantiation, founded on the host be- 
ing consecrated in various places at tlie same time, in each of 
which, however, the body of Christ becomes present, accordingf 


to the Papist doctrine. This being predicated of the real body 
of our Saviour^ the Protestants allege is impossible, as matter can 
only be in one place at the same time. Dryden, in answer, as- 
sumes, that Christ entered into the meeting of the disciples, by 
actually passing through the closed doors of the apartment ; and 
as, at the moment of such passage, two bodies must have been in 
the same place at the same instant, the body of Jesus namely, and 
the substance through which he passed, the poet founds on it as 
an instance of a transgression of a natural law, proved from Scrip- 
ture, as violent as that of one body being in several different places 
at once. But the text does not prove the major part of Drjdea's 
proposition ; it is not stated positively by the evangelist, that our 
Saviour passed through the doors which were shut, but merely 
that he cmne and stood among his disciples without the doors being 
opened ; which miraculous appearance might take place many 
ways besides that on which Dryden has fixed for the foundation 
of his argument. 

Note VIII. 

More haughty than the rest, the Wolfish race 1 

Appears with belly gaunt, and famish* d face ; #■ 

I^ever was so deform'd a beast of grace. J 

His ragged tail betwixt his legs he wears. 
Close clappdfor shame ; but his rough crest he rears. 
And pricks up his predestinating ear^.-— P. 124. 

The personal appearance of the Presbyterian clergy was suited 
by an affectation of extreme plainness and rigour of appearance. 
A Geneva cloak and band, with the hair close cropped, and co- 
vered with a sort of black skull-cap, was the discriminating attire 
of their teachers. This last article of dress occasioned an un- 
seemly projection of their ears, and procured those who affected 
it the nick-name of prick-eared fanatics, and the still better known 
appellation of Round-heads. Our author proceeds, with great 
bitterness, to investigate the origin of Calvinism. His account of 
the rise and destruction of a sect of heretics in Cambria may be 
understood to refer to the ancient British church, which disowned 
the supremacy of the See of Rome, refused to adopt her ritual, 
and opposed St Augustin*s claims to be metropolitan of Britain, in 
virtue of Pope Gregory's appointment. They held two confer- 
ences with Augustin ; at one of which he pretended to work a 
miracle by the cure of a blind man ; at the second, seven Bri- 
tish bishops, and a numerous deputation from the monastery of 
Bangor, disputed with Augustin^ who denounced vengeance against 
them by the sword of the Saxons, in case they refused to submit 
to the See of Rome. His [prophecy, which had as little effect 


upon the Welch clergy as his miracle, was shortly afterwards ac- 
complished : For Ethelfred, the Saxon King of Northumberland^ 
having defeated ihe British under the walls of Chester^ |Cut to 
pieces no fewer than twelve hundred of the monks of Bangor, who 
had come to assist their countrymen with their prayers. Our 
author alludes to this extermination of the British recusant clergy, 
by comparing it to the census, or tribute of wolves-heads, inipo- 
sed on the Cambrian kings. It has been surmised by some au- 
thors, that Augustin himself instigated this massacre^ and thereby 
contributed to the accomplishment of his own prophecy. Other 
authorities say, that he died in 604*^ and that the monks of Bangor 
were slain in 613. Perhaps, however, our author did not mean 
to carry the rise of Presbytery so far back, but only referred to 
the doctrines of Wiccliff, who, in the reign of Edward III., and 
his successor Richard II., taught publicly at Oxford several doc- 
trines inconsistent with the supremacy of the Pope, and otherwise 
repugnant to the doctrines of the Roman church. He was pro- 
tected during his lifetime by John of Gaunt ; but, forty years af- 
ter his death, his bones were dug up and burned for heresy. His 
followers were called Lollards, and were persecuted with great 
severity in the reign of Henry V.^ Lord Cobham and many others 
being burned to death. Thinking, perhaps, either of these too 
honourable and ancient a descent for the English Presbyterians, 
our author next refers to Heylin, who brings them from Geneva,* 

* ** But, separating this obliquity from the main intendment, the work was 
vigorously carried on by the king and his counsellors, as appears clearly by the 
doctrinals in the Book of Homilies, and by the practical part of Christian piety, 
in the first public Liturgy, confirmed by act of parliament, in the second and 
third year of the king ; and in that act (and, which is more, by Fox himself) af- 
finned to have been done by the espedol aid of the Holy Ghost. And here the 
business might have rested, if Catin's pragmatical spirit had not interposed. He 
first began to quarrel at some passages in this sacred liturgy, and afterwards never 
left sol^tiag the Lord Protector, and practising by his agents on the court, the 
eoontry, and the urdversities, till he had laid the first foundation of the Zuinglian 
fiiction ; who laboured nothing more, than innovation both in doctrine and dis- 
dplioe ; to which they were encouraged by nothing more than some improvident 
indolgenee granted unto John A-Lasco ; who, bringing with him a mixt multi- 
tnde of Poles and Germans, obtained the privilege of a church for himself and his, 
diftinct in government and forms of worship from the church of England. 

«• This gave powerful animation to the Zuinglian gospellers (as they are called 
by Bishop Hooper, and some other writers) to practise first upon the church ; who 
being countenanced, if not headed, by the Earl of Warwick, (who then began to 
nnderminethe Lord Brotector,) first quarrelled the episcopal habit, and afterwards 
inveighed against caps and surplices, against gowns and tippets, but fell at last 
upon the altars, which were left standing in all churches by the rules of litiii^. 
Tne touching on tliis string made excellent music to most of the grandees of the 
court, who had before cast many an envious eye on tho^e costly hangings, that 


whcrb the rcforrocd doctrine was taught by the well known Zuin- 
glius, and the still more famous Calvin. The former began to 

f»reach the Reformation at Zurich about 1518^ and disputed pub- 
icly with one Sampson, a friar^ whom the Pope liad sent thither 
to dfistribute indulgences. Zuinglius was persecuted by the Bishop 
of Constance ; but) being protected by the magistrates of Zurich, 
he set him at defiance, and in 1523 held an open disputation be- 
fore the senate, with such success, that they commanded the tra- 
ditions of the church to be thrown aside, and the gospel to be 
taught through all their canton. Zuinglius^ in some respects, 
merited the epithet o^ fiery ^ which Dryden has ^ven him ; he 
was an ardent lover of liberty, and dissuaded his countrymen 
from a league with the French^ by which it must have been en- 
dangered ; he vindicated, from Scripture, the doctrine of resist- 
ing oppressors and asserting liberty, of which he said God was 
the author, and would be the defender ;"* and, finally, he was 
killed in battle between the inhabitants of Zurich and those of 
the five small cantons. The conquerors, being Catholics, treated 
his dead body with the roost shameless indignity. 

The history of Calvin is too well known to need recital in this 
place. He was expelled from France, his native country, on ac- 
count of his having adopted the doctrines of the reformers, and, 
taking refuge in Geneva, was appointed professor of divinity there 
in 1536. But being afterwards obliged to retire from thence, on 
account of a quarrel about the administration of the communion 
to certain individuals, Calvin taught a French congregation at 
Strasburgh. He may be considered as the founder of the Pres- 
byterian doctrine, differing from that of Luther, in 'denying con- 

BUMsy plat^, and other rich and precious utensils, which adorned thoae altars 
And what need all this waste ? said Judas, when one poor chalice onl> , and per- 
haps not that, might have served the Uirn. Besides, there was no small spoil to 
be made of copes, in which the priest officiated at the holy sacrament ; some of 
them being made of doth of tissue, of cloth of gold and silver, or embroidered 
velvet ; the meanest being made of silk, or satin, with some decent trimmiogi 
And might not these be handsomely converted into private use, to serve as cw- 
pets for their tables, coverlids to their beds, or cushions to their chaira or win- 
dows ? Thereupon some rude people are encouraged under-hand to beat down 
some altars, which makes way lor an order of the council-table, to take down 
the rest, and set up tables in their places ; followed by a commission, to be 
executed in all parts of the kingdom, for seizing on the premises to the use of the 

« *' Quo animo ipsum quoque Patdum dicere exhtimOf si potes liber fieri utere 

potius, 1. Cor, 7. Quod eternum DciconcUium^patresnottri^forfisgimiyAritin^ 

fracto animo sccuti, miris victuriarum succcssibtts ut Sempachxiy^ ^. And again, 

'* Ipse Dominus libertatis autiior cxstUU, ct honestam libertatem quercntibut adistL' 

-p»Pia et Arnica ParanaKis ad Suitensium rempublicam. 



substantiation, and affirming, in a large extent, the doctrine of pre- 
destination, founded upon election to grace. The poet proceeds 
to describe the progress of this sect : 

With teeth untried, and rudiments of daws, 
Your first essay was on your native laws ; 
Those having torn with ease, and trampled down, ^ 
Your fangs you fastened on die mitred crown, > 

And iVeed from God and monarchy your town. j 
What though your native kennel ^U be small. 
Bounded betwixt a puddle and a wall ; 
Yet your victorious colonies are sent 
Where the north ocean girds the continent* 
Quicken*d with fire below, your monsters breed 
In fenny Holland, and in miitful Tweed ; 
And like the first the last affects to be. 
Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. 

The citizens of Geneva^ before they adopted the reformed reli- 
gion, were under the temporal^ as well as the ecclesiastical, au- 
thority of a bishop. But, in 1528, when they followed the ex- 
ample of the city of Berne, in destroying images^ and abolishing 
the Roman ceremonies, the bishop and his clergy were expelled 
from the city, which from that time was considered as the cradle 
of Presbytery. As they had made choice of a republican form 
of government for their little state, our author infers^ that demo- 
cracy is most congenial to their new form of *religion. It is no 
doubt true, that the Presbyterian church government is most 
purely democratical ; which perhaps recommended it in Holland. 
It Is also true, that the Presbyterian divines have always preach- 
ed, and their followers practised, the doctrine of resistance to 
S^pression, whether affecting civil or religious liberty. But if 
ryden had looked to his own times, he would have seen, that 
the Scottish Presbjrterians made a very decided stand for mo- 
narchy after the death of Charles I. ; and even such as were en- 
gaged in the conspiracy of Baillie of Jerviswood, which was in 
aome respects the cdunter-part of the Ryehouse-plot, refused to 
take arms, because they suspected that the intentions of Sidney^ 
and others of the party in England, were to establish a common- 
weedth. I may add, that, in latter times, no body of men have 
shewn themselves more attached to the king and constitution 
than the Presbyterian clergy of Scotland. 

There is room for criticism also in the poetry of these lines. 1 
question whetherjenn^ Holland andjruiif id Tweed, in other words, 
a marsh and a river, could form a &vourable medium for com- 
municating the influence of the quickening Jire belofv, 



Note IX* 

From Celtic troods is chased the wolfish crew / 
But ah ! some pity ^en to brutes is due ; 
Their native wallts, methinks, they might emoy, 
Curb'd of their native malice to destroy. — r. 126. 

It is remarkable how readily sentiments of toleration occur, 
even to the professors of the most intolerant religion, when their 
minds have fair play to attend to them. The edict of Nantes, by 
which Henry IV. secured to his Huguenot subjects the undis- 
turbed exercise of their religion, was the recompense of the great 
obligations he owed to them, and a sort of compensation for bis 
having preferred power to conscience ; an edict, declared unal- 
terable^ and which had even been sanctioned by Louis XIV. him- 
self, so late as 1680^ was, in 1685, finally abrogated. The vio- 
lence with which the persecution of the Protestants was then 
J»ushed on, almost exceeds belief. The principal and least vio- 
ent mode of conversion^ adopted by the King and his minister 
Louvois, was by quartering upon tliose of the reformed religion 
large parties of soldiers, who were licenced to commit every out- 
rage in their habitations, short of rape and murder. When, by 
this species of persecution^ a Huguenot had been once compelled 
to hear mass, he was afterwards treated as a relapsed heretic, if 
he shewed the slightest disposition to resume the religion in which 
he had been brought up. James 11.^ in two letters to the Prince 
of Orange, beseeching toleration for the regular priests in Hol- 
land, fails not to condemn the conduct of Louis towards his Pro- 
testant subjects ; yet^ with gross inconsistency^ or the deepest 
dissimulation, he was at the same time congratulating Barillou on 
his Most Christian Majesty's care for the conversion of his sub- 
jects, and hoping God would grant him the favour of completii^ 
so great a work. * And just so our author, after blaming the per- 
secution of the Huguenots, congratulates Italy and "Spain upon 
possessing such just and excellent laws, as the rules of the in- 
quisitorial church courts. 

Note X. 

A slimy^hom and sun^begotten tribe. 

Who Jar from steeples, and their sacred sound. 

In f elds their sullen conventicles found, — P. 129. 

The dregs of the fanaticism of the last age fermented^ during 
that of Charles II., into various sects of sullen enthusiasts, who 

♦ Dalryniplc-*s Memoirs, Vol. II. p. 108. 


distinguished themselves by the different names of Brownists^ Fa- 
milies of Love, &c. &c* In many" cases they rejected all the 
usual aids of devotion, and, holding their meetings in the open air, 
and in solitary spots, nursed their fanaticism by separating them- 
selves from the more rational part of mankind. Dryden has else- 
where described them with equal severity :•— 

A numerous host of dreaming saints succeed, 
Of the true old enthusiastic breed ; 
'Gainst form and order they their powers employ, 
Nothing to build, and all tnings to destroy. 

In Scotland, large conventicles were held in the mountains and 
morasses by the fiercest of the Covenanters, whom persecution had 
driven frantic. These^men, known now by the name of Camero- 
nians, considered Popery and Prelacy as synonymous terms ; and 
even stigmatized^ as Erastians and self-seekers, the more moder&e 
Presbyterians, who were contented to exercise their religion as 
, tolerated by the government. 

• Note XI. 

Her novices are taught, that bread and wine 

Are but the visible and outward sign^ 

Received by those who in communumjoin ; 

But the inward grace, or the thing signified. 

His blood and body, who to save us aied^ &c. — P. 133. 

The poet alludes to the doctrine of the church of England con- 
cerning the eucharist, thus expressed in the twenty-eighth article 
of faith : — 

** The Supper of the Lord is not only a sign of the love that 
Christians ought to (lave among themselves one to another, but 
rather it is a sacrament of our redemption by Christ's death ; in- 
somuch, that to such as rightly, worthily, and with faith receive 
the samey the bread which we break is a partaking of the body of 
Christ, and likewise the cup of blessing is a partaking of the blood 
of Christ. 

** Transubstantiation, or the change of the substance of bread 
and wine, in the Supper of the Lord, cannot be proved by holy 
writ ; but it is repugnant to the plain words of Scripture, over- 
throweth the nature of a sacrament, and hath given occasion to 
many superstitions. 

*' The body of Christ is given, taken, and eaten in the supper 
only, after an heavenly and spiritual manner. And the mean, 
whereby the body of Christ is received and eaten in the supper^ 
ia faith." 


Dryden insisU upon a supposed inconsistency in this docstrine; 
but his argument recoils upon the creed of his own churcfa. The 
words of our Saviour are to be interpreted as they must have been 
meant when spoken ; a circumstance which excludes the literal 
interpretation contended for by the Romanists : For, by the words 
*' Hoc est corpus meum^" our Saviour cannot be then suppoted to 
have meanty that the morsel which he gave to his disciples was 
transformed into his bodv^ which then stood before their eyes, and 
which all but heretics allow to have been a real, natural^ human 
bod}^ incapable, of course, of beins multiplied into as many bo- 
dies as there were persons to partd^e of the communion, and of 
retaining its original and identical form at the same time. But 
unless such a multiplied transformation actually took place, our 
Saviour's words to his apostles must have been emblenwtical only. 
Ciueen Elizabeth's homely lines are, after all, an excellent com- 
mcnt on this point of divinity :-— 

His was the word that spake it ; 
Hs took the bread and brake it ; 
And what that word did make it, 
That I believe and take it. 

Note XII. 

True to her king her principles are found ; 

Oh that her practice were but half so sound /«*P. 133. 

The pretensions of the church of England to loyalty were car- 
ried to a degree of extravagance, which her divines were finally 
unable to support, unless they had meant to sign the destruction 
of their religion. This was owing to the recollection of the mo* 
mentous period which had lately elapsed. The interest of the 
church had been deeply interwoven with that of the crown ; their 
struggle, sufferings, and fall, during the Civil Wars,hadbeenincom« 
mon, as well as their triumphant restoration : the maxim of ^'no 
king no bishop," was indehbly imprinted on the hearts of the cler- 
gy ; in fine, it seemed impossible that any thing should cut asunder 
Uie ties which combined them. In sanctioning, therefore, the doc* 
trines of the most passive loyalty, the English divines probably 
thought, that they were only pa3dng a tribute to the thronep which 
was to be returned by the streams of royal bounty and grace to- 
wards the church. Even the religion of James did not, before his 
accession, shake their confidence, or excite their apprehensions. 
They were far more afraid of the fanatics, under whose iron yoke 
they had so lately groaned, than of the Roman Catholics, who, for 
three generations, had been a depressed, and therefore a tractable 
body, whoso ceremonies and church government resembled, in 
some respects, their own, and who had sided with them during the 


Civil Wars against the Protestant sectaries. But when the members 
of the established church perceived, that the rapid steps which 
James adopted would soon place the Catholics in a condition to 
rivalt and perhaps to overpower her, they were obliged to retract 
and explain away many of their former hasty expressions of abso- 
lute and unconditional devotion to the royal pleasure. The king, 
and his Catholic counsellors^ saw with astonishment and indigna- 
tion, that professions of the most ample subjection were now to 
be understood as limited and restricted by the interests of the 
church. In the height of their resentment, even the church of 
England's pretensions to a peculiar degree of loyalty were un« 
thankfUlly turned into ridicule* in such bitter and sarcastic terms 
as the following, which occur in a pamphlet published expressly 
** with allowance," i» e. by royal permission. 

<' I have often considered, but could never yet find a convin- 
cing reason, why that part of the nation, (which is commonly 
called the Church of England) should dare appropriate to them- 
selves alone the principles of true loyalty ; and that no other 
church or communion on earth can be consistent with monarchy, 
or, indeed, with any government. 

" This is a presumption of so high a nature, that it renders the 
Church of England a despicable enemy to the rest of mankind : 
For, what can be more ridiculous than to say, that a congregation 
of people, calling themselves a church, which cannot pretend to 
an infallibility even in matters of faith, having, since their first in- 
stitution, made several fundamental changes of reh'gious worship, 
should, however^ assume to themselves an inerribility in point of 
civil obedience to the temporal magistrate? Or, what can be 
more injurious than to aver, that no other sect or community on 
eartht from the rising to the setting sun, can be capable of this 
singular gift of loyalty ? So that the Church of England alone* (if 
you have faith enough to believe her own testimony,) is that beau- 
tiful spouse of Christ, holy in her doctrine, and infallible in her 
duty to the supreme magistrate, whom (by a revelation peculiar 
to herself) she owns both for her temporal and spiritual head. 
But I doubt much, whether her ipsa diaU alone will pass current 
with all the nations of the universe, without making further 
search into the veracity of this bold assertion." 

A Nea> Test of the Church qfEnglantPs LoyaUtf. 

Note XXX. 

Or lsgrim*s counseL'^V. 134. 

This name for the Wolf is taken from an ancient political satire, 
called ** Reynard the Fox ;" in which an account is given of the 
intrigues at the court of the Lion ; the impeachment of the Fox ; 


his various wiles and escapes ; finally, his conquering his accuser 
in single combat This ancient apologue was translated from the 
German by the venerable Caxton, and published the 6th day of 
June, 1481. It became very popular in England ; and we derive 
from it all the names commonly applied to animals in fable, as 
Reynard the fox, Tybert the cat, Bruin the bear, Isgrim the wolf, 
&c* The original of this piece is still so highly esteemed in Ger- 
many, that it was lately modernized by Goethe, and is published 
among his " Neiie Schriflen." It is probable that this ancient 
satire might be the original of '' Mother Hubbard's Tale»" and 
that Dry den himself may have had something of its plan in his 
eye, when writing *' The Hind and Panther." As it had become 
merely a popular story-book, some of his critics did not fail to 
make merry with his adopting any thing from such a source. 
'* Smith, I have heard you quote Reynard the fox. — Bayes, Why, 
there's it now ; take it from me, Mr Smith, there is as good moral- 
ity, and as sound precepts, in The Delectable History of Rey- 
nard the Fox, as in any book I know, except Seneca. Pray, tell 
me, where, in any other author, could I have found se pretty a 
name for a wolf as Isgrim ?" * 

Note XIV. 

The wretched Panther cries aloud for aid 
To church and councils^ whom shejirst betray* d; 
No help fi om fathers or traditions trains 
Those ancient guides she taught us to disdain. 
And by that Scripture^ which she once abused 
To reformation, stands herself accused, — P. 135. 

The author here prefers an argument much urged by the Ca- 
tholic divines against those of the Church of England, and which 
he afterwards resumes in the Second Part. The English divines, 
say they, halt between two opinions ; they will not allow the 
weight of tradition when they dispute with the Church of Rome, 
but refer to the Scripture, interpreted by each man's private opi- 
nion, as the sole rule of faith ; while, on the other hand, they are 
obliged to have recourse to tradition in their disputes with the 
Presbyterians and dissenters, because, without its aid» they couki 
not vindicate from Scripture alone their hierarchy and church- 
government. To this it was answered, by the disputants on the 
Church of England's side, that they owned no such inconsistent 
opinion as was imputed to them ; but that they acknowledged, for 

The Hind and tlic Panther Tronsversed, p. 14. 


their rule of faitb^ the word of God in general ; that by this 
they understood the written word, or Scripture^ in contradistinc- 
tion to the Roman rule of Scripture and traditions ; and as dis- 
tinguished, both from the Church of Rome^ and from heretics 
and sectaries, they understood by it more particularly the writ- 
ten word or scripture, delivering a sense, owned and declared by 
the primitive church of Christ in the three creeds^ four first ge- 
neral councils, and harmony of the fathers. 

Dryden's argument, however, had been, by the Catholics, 
thought so sound, that it is much dwelt upon in a tract, called, 
*' A Remonstrance, by way of Address to both Houses of Par- 
liament, from the Church of England," the object of which is to 
recommend an union between the Churches of England and of 
Rome. The former is there represented as holding the following 
language : — 

'* You cannot be ignorant, that ever since my separation from 
the Church of Rome, I have been attacked by all sorts of dissent- 
ers : So that my fate, in this encounter, may be compared to that 
of a city, besieged by different armies, who figh^ both against it 
and one another ; where, if the garrison make a sally to damage 
one, another presently takes an advantage to make an attacL. 
Thus, while I set myself vigorously to suppress the Papist, the 
Puritan seeks to undermine me ; and, whilst I am busied to op- 
pose the Puritan, the Papist gains ground upon me. If I tell the 
Church of Rome, I did not forsake her, but her errors, which I 
reformed ; my rebellious subjects tell me the same, and that they 
must make a thorough reformation ; and, let me bring what ar- 
guments I please to justify my dissent, they still produce the 
same against me. If, on the other hand, I plead against the 
Puritan dissenter, and show, that he ought to stand to church- 
authority, where he is not infallibly certain it commands a sin ; 
the Papist presently catches at it, and tells me, I destroy my 
own grounds of reformation, unless I will pretend to that mfal- 
libility which I condemn in them. 

*^ Matters standing thus betwixt me and them, why would it 
not be a point of prudence in me, (as I doubt not but you would 
esteem it in a governor of that city I lately mentioned,) to make 
peace with one of my adversaries, to the end I may with more 
ease resist the onsets of the other ?" 








T)ame, said the Panther, times ^re mended well. 
Since late among the Philistines you fell.* 
The toils were pitched, a spacious tract of ground 
With expert huntsmen was enqompass'd round ; 
The inclosure narrow'd ; the sagacious power 
Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour. 
Tis true, the younger lion 'scaped the snare, 
But all your priestly calves lay struggling there. 
As sacrifices on their altars laid ;:]: 
While you, their careful mother, wisely fled, 
Not trusting destiny to save your head. 

♦ Alluding to the Popish Plot. See Note I. 

+ James 11. then Duke of York, whom Shaftesbury and hiaf 
party involved in the odium of the plot. 

t Plunket, the titular primate of Irelandv Whitebre^d, provin- 
ciu of the Jesuits, and several other Catholic priests, sunered for 
(the alleged plot. Derrick most absurdly supposes the paasagfi 
po irefer to the period of the Civil War. 

VOL. X. * h 


For, whatever promises you have applied 
To your unfailing church, the surer side 
Is four fair legs in danger to provide ; 
And whate'er tales of Peter's chair you tell. 
Yet, saving rev'rence of the miracle. 
The better luck was yours to 'scape so well. 

As I remember, said the sober Hind, 
Those toils were for your own dear self designed. 
As well as me ; and with the self-same throw. 
To catch the qunrry * and the vermin too,i-»- 
Forgive the sland'rous tongues that calPd you so. 
Howe'er you take it now, the common cry 
Then ran you down for your rank loyalty .f 
Besides, in Popery they thought you nurst. 
As evil tongues will ever speak the worst. 
Because some forms, and oe^^nonies some 
You kept, and stood in the main question dumb. 
Dumb you were bom indeed ; but, tliinking long. 
The t^t, it seems, at last has loosed yoqr tongue tt 
And to explain what your forefathers meant. 
By real presence in the sacrament. 
After long fencing push'd against a wall^ \ 

Your salvo comes, that he's not there at all : f 
There changed your faiths and what may change i 
may fall. ^ 

Who can beUeve what varies every day, 
Npr ever was, nor will be at a stay ?— 

• Q^any signifies^ properly, " dead ffame ready to be cut up bjr 
the huntsman," whiA Uie French stifi ca^Jhire la curie. .But it 
is often taken, as in this passage, for the game in general* Ver« 
min comprehends such wild animals as are not game— -fiyzci^ 
polecats^ and the like. 

t Note II. 
^ $ The test-oath against Popery, in which transubatantiatioii 
18 formally disavowed. See Note III. 


Tortures may force the tongue untruths to tell^ 
And I ne'er own'd myself infallible^ 
Keplied the Panther : grant 3uch presence were, 
Yet in your sens^ 1 never own'd it there. 
A real virtue we by faith receive. 
And that we in the sacrame^nt believe.--- 
Thfn^ said the Hind, as you the matter state, 
Not only Jesuits can (equivocate ; 
For real, as you now the word e:$ppund^ 
From solid substance dwindles to a sound. 
Methinks, an ^sop's fable you repeat ; 
You know who took the shadow fqr the meat- 
Your church'^ substance thus you change at will, 
Apd yet retain your former %ure still, 
I freely grant you spoke to save yo\jr life ; 
For then you lay beneath the butcher's knife. 
Long time you fought, redoubled battery bore. 
But, after all, against yourself you swore. 
Your former sw*; for every hour your form 
Is chopp'd and changed* like winds before a stpro). 
Thus fear and interest wiU prevail with some ; 
Fof all haye not the gift of martycdom. — 

The panther grinn'd at this, and thus replied : 
That men may err wai; never yet denied ; 
But if that common principle be true. 
The capon, dame, is levell'd full at you* 
But, shunning long disputes, I fain would see 
That wond'rous wight. Infallibility. 
Is he from heaven, this mighty champion, come ?. 
Or lodged below in subterranean JBtome ? 
First, seat him somewhere, and deiaYe his race. 
Or else conclude that nothing has no place. — 

Suppose, though I disown it, said the Hind, 
The certain m^nsion were not yet assigned ; 
The doubtful residence no proof can brujg 
Against the plain existence of the thing. 


Because philosophers may disagree. 
If sight by emission, or reception be. 
Shall it be thence inferr d, I do not see ?* 
But you require an answer positive. 
Which yet, when I demand, you dare not give ; 
For fallacies in universals live.f 
I then affirm, that this unfailing guide 
In pope and general councils must reside } 
Both lawful, botb combined ; what one decrees "I 
By numerous votes, the other ratifies, >- 

On this undoubted sense the chuirch relies.:J; } 
'Tis true, some doctors in a scantier space, 
I mean, in each apart, contract the place. 
Some, who to greater length -extend the line. 
The church's after-aoceptation join. 
This last circumference appears too wide ; 
The church diffiised is by the council tied. 
As members by their representatives 
Obliged to laws, which prince and senate gives. 
Thus, some contract, and some enlarge the space ; 
Jn pope and council, who denies the place. 
Assisted from above with God's unfailing grace ? 
Those canons all the needful points contain ; 
Their sense so obvious, and their words so plain. 
That no disputes about the doubtful text 
Have hitherto the labouring world perplex'd. 
If any should in after4imes appear, 
IsTew councils must be called, to make the mean^ 
ing clear ; 

* There was a dispute among naturalists, whether sight wa^ 
fuscomplished per emissionem vel per receptionem spederum* 
+ lioltts versatur in generalibus. was ^n axiom of the schools. 
X Note JV 


Because in them the power supreme resides. 
And all the promises are to the guides.* 
This may be taught with sound and safe defence ; 
But mark how sandy is your own pretence^ 
Who, setting councils, pope, and church aside, 
Are every man his owli presuming guide»f 
The sacred books, you say, are full and plain, 
And every needful point of truth contain ; 
All who can' read interpreters may be. 
Thus, though your churches disagree, 
Yet every s^int has to himself alone 
The secret of this philosophic stone^ 
These principles your jarring sects unite. 
When differing doctors and disciples fight. 
Though Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, holy chiefs, 
Have made a battle-royal of beliefs ; 
Or, like wild horses, several ways have whirl'd 
The tortured text about the Christian world ; 
Each Jehu lashing on with furious force. 
That Turk or Jew could not have used it worse ; 
No matter what dissension leaders make, 
Where every private man may save a stake. 
Ruled by the Scripture and his own advice. 
Each has a blind bye-path to Paradise ; 
Where, driving' in a circle slow or fast. 
Opposing sects are sure to meet at last. 
A wond'rous charity you have in store 
For all reform'd to pass the narrow door ; 
So much, that Mahomet had scarcely more. 
For he, 'kind prophet, was' for damning Tione ; 
But Christ and Moses were to save their own ; 

• The Catholics interpret our Saviour's promise, '' that he 
would be with the disciples to the end of the world," as appli«* 
cable to cheir own church exclusively. 

1- Note V. ^ 


Himself was to secure his chosen ntee. 
Though reason good for Turks to take the place. 
And he allowed to be the better man. 
In virtue of his holier Alcoran. 

True; said the Panther, I shall ne'er deny 
My bf^thren may be saved as well as I : 
Though Huguenots condemn our ordination. 
Succession, ministerial vocation ; 
And Luther, more mistaking what he read, 
Misjoins the sacred body with the bread :* 
Yet, lady, still remember I maintain. 
The word in needful points is only plain.-^— - 

Needless, or needful, I not now contend. 
For still you have a lGk>p-hole for a friend, 
Rgoin'd the matron ; but the rule y6u lay \ 
Has led whole flodks, and leads them still astray, > 
In >^eighty points, and full damnation's wny. j 
For^ did not Arius first, Socinus now. 
The Son's eternal Godhead disavow ? 
And did not these by gospel texts alone 
Condemn our doctrine, and maintain tileir own ? 
Have not all heretics the same pretence 
To plead the Scriptures in their own defence ? 
How did the Nicene council then decide 
That strong debate ? was it by Scripture tried ? 
No, sure ; to that the rebel would not yield ; 
Squadrons of texts he marshalled in the field : 
That was but civil war, an equal set. 
Where piles with piles, and eagles eagles met.f 
With texts point-blank and plain he faced the foe, 
And did not Satan tempt our Saviour so ? 
The good old bishops took a simpler way ; 
Each ask'd but what he heard his fether say* 

• By the doctrine of consubstantiation. 

t Alluding to Lucan's description of the Roman civil wiu*. 


• • • ( 

Or how he wa^ instructed in his youth, ' 
And by tradition's force upheld the truth.* 

ThePanther smiled at this ; — And when, said she. 
Were those first councils disallowed by me ? 
Or where did I at sure tradition strike. 
Provided still it were apostolic ?f 

Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former 
Where alfyout faith you did on Scripture found. 
Kow *tis tradition joined with holy writ ; 
But thus your memory betrays your wit. 

No, said the Panther ; for in that I view. 
When your tradition's forged, and when 'tis trufe. 
I set them by the rule, and, as they square. 
Or deviate from undoubted doctrine there. 
This oral fiction, that old faith declare. — 

Hind. The council steefd, it seems, a different 
course ; 
They tried the Scripture by tradition's force. 
But you tradition by the Scripture try ; 
Pursued by sects, from this to that you fly, 
Nor dare on one foundation to rely. 
The word is then deposed, and in this view. 
You rule the Scripture, not the Scripture yoii. 
Thus said the dame, and, smiling, thus pursued : 
I see, tradition then is disallow'd. 
When not evinced by Scripture to be true. 
And Scripture, as interpreted bv you. 
But here you tread upon unfaithful ground. 
Unless you could infallibly expound ; 
Which you reject as odious Popery, 
And throw that doctrine back with scorn on me. 
Suppose we on things traditive divide. 
Ana both appeal to Scripture to decide ; 
By various texts we both uphold our claim. 
Nay, often ground our titles on the same : 

♦ Note Vr. + See Note XIV. Part I. page 156. 


After long labour lost, and time's expence. 
Both grant the words, and quarrel for the sense. 
Thus all disputes for ever must depend ; 
iP'or no dumb rule can controversies end. 
Thus, when you said, — Tradition must be tried 
By sacred writ, whose sense yourselves decide^ 
You said no more, but that yourselves must be 
The judges of the scripture sense, not we. 
Against our church-tradLtion you declare. 
And yet your derks would sit in Moses' chair ; 
At least 'tis proved against your argument. 
The rule is far from plain,, where all dissent.-^ 

If hot by Scriptures, how can we be sure*. 
Replied the Panther, what tradition's pure ^ 
For you may palm upon us new for old ; 
All, as they say, that glitters, is not gold. 

How but by followmg her, replied the dame,. 
To whom derived from sire to son they came ; 
Whejre every age does on another move* 
And trusts no farther than the next above ;. 
Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rise^ 
The lowest hid in earth, the top-most in the skies ? 

Sternly the savage did her answer mark* 
Her glowing eye-balls glittering in the dark. 
And said but this : — Since lucre was your trade. 
Succeeding times such dreadful gaps have m^de,. 
'Tis dangerous climbing : To your sons and* you 
I leave the ladder, and its omen too.* 

Hind. The Panther's breath was ever famed for 
sweet; • . ' 

But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet. 
You leam'd this language from the Blatant Bea3t,f 
Or rather did not speak, but were possess'd. 

* The gallows. 

V By the Blatant Beast, we are generally to understand slan- 
i: :• ; see Spenser's Legend of Courtesy. But it is here taken for 
' le Wol^ or Presbyterian clergy, whose violent dedamationS' 
"gainst the church of Rome filled up many sermons. 


As for your answer, *tis but barely urged : 

You must evince tradition to be forged ; 

Produce plain proofs ; unblemish'd authors use 

As ancient as those ages they accuse ; 

*Till when, 'tis not sufficient to defame ; 

An old possession stands, till elder quits the claim. 

Then for c>ur interest, which is named alone 

To load with envy, we retort your own ; 

IFor when traditions in your faces fly. 

Resolving not to yield, you must decry. 

As when the cause goes hard, the guilty man 

Excepts, and thins his jury all he can ; 

So when you stand of other aid bereft^ 

You to the twelve apostles would be left. 

Your friend the Wolf did with more craft provide 

To set those toys, traditions, quite aside ;* 

And fathers too, unless when, reason spent. 

He cites them but sometimes for ornament. 

But, Madam Panther^ you, though more sincere. 

Are not so wise as your adulterer ; 

The private spirit is a better blind. 

Than all the dodging tricks your authors find. 

For they, who left the Scripture to the crowd,. 

Each for his. own peculiar judge allow'd ; 

The way to please them was to make them proud.. 

Thus \yith full sails they ran upon the shelf; 

Who could suspect a cozenage from himself? 

On his own reason safer *tis to stand. 

Than be deceived and damn'd at second-hand. 

But you, who fathers and traditions take. 

And garble some, and some you quite forsake,. \ 

Pretending church-authority to fix. 

And yet some grains of private spirit mix. 

* The Presbyterian church utterly rejects traditions, and ^9h 
peals to the Scripture as the sole rule of faith. --^^ 


So, great physicians cannot all attend. 
But some they visit, and to some they send. 
Yet all those letters were not writ to all ; 
Nor first intended but occasional. 
Their absent sermons ; nor, if they contain 
All needful doctrines, are those doctrines plain. 
Clearness by frequent preaching must be wrought; 
They writ but seldom, but they daily taught ; • 
And what one saint has said of holy Paul^ 
" He darkly writ,*' is true applied to all. 
For this obscurity could heaven provide 
More prudently than by a living guide, 
As doubts arose, the difference to decide ? 
A guide was therefore needful, therefore made ; 
And, if appointed, sure to be obey'd. 
Thus, with due reverence to the apostles' writ, 
By which my sons are taught, to which submit, 
I think, those truths, their sacred works coutaiDi 
The church alone can certainly explain ; 
That following ages, leaning on the past. 
May rest upon the primitive at last. 
Nor would I thence the word no rule infer. 
But none without the church-interpreter ; 
Because, as 1 have urged before, 'tis mute. 
And is itself the subject of dispute. 
But what the apostles their successors taught, 1 
They to the next, from them to us is brought, y 
The undoubted sense which is in Scripture sought, j 
From hence the church is arm'd, when errors rise,^ 
To stop their entrance, and prevent surprise ; I 
And, safe entrench'd within, her foes without i 
defies. ^ 

By these all festering sores her councils heal, 
Which time or has disclosed, or shall reveal 
For discord cannot end without a last appeal. 
Nor can a council national decide. 
But with subordination to her guide : 
(I wish the cause were on that issue tried.) 


Much less the Scripture ; for suppose debate 
Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate, 
Bequeath'd by some legator's last intent ;* 
(Such is our dying Saviour's testament :) 
The will is proved, is open'd, and is. read. 
The doubtful heirs their differing titles plead ; 
All vouch the words their interest to maintain, 
And each pretends by those his cause is plain. 
Shall then the testament award the right ? 
"No, that's the Hungary for which they fight ; 
The field of battle, subject of debate ; 
The thing contended for, the fair estate. 
The sense is intricate, 'tis only clear 
TVhat vowels and what consonants are there. 
Therefore 'tis plain, its meaning must be tried 
Before some judge appointed to decide. — 

Suppose, the fair apostate said, I grant. 
The faithful flock some living guide should want. 
Your arguments an endless chace pursue : 
I^oduce this vaunted leader to our view. 
This mighty Moses of the. chosen crew. — 

The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired. 
With force renew'd, to victory aspired ; 
And, looking upward to her kindred sky, 
As once our Saviour own'd his Deity, 
Pronounced his words — " She whom ye seek 

am I."t 
ISTor less amazed this voice the Panther heard. 
Than were those Jews to hear a G!od declared. 
Then thus the matron modestly renew'd : 
Liet all your prophets and their sects be view'd. 

* It 18 probable, that fVom this passage Swifl took the idea of 
(DODiparin(|[ the Scripture to a testament in his '^ Tale of a Tub." 

f By thii asseveration the author seems to, infer^ that^ because 
dM C&irdi of Rome avers he^ own infallibilityi she is therefore 



And see to which of them yourselves think fit 
The conduct of your conscience to submit ; 
Each proselyte would vote his doctor best. 
With absolute exclusion to the rest : 
Thus would your Polish diet disagree. 
And end, as it began, in anarchy ; 
Yourself the fairest for electicm stand, 
Because you seem crown-general of the land ; 
Sut soon against your superstitious lawn 
Some Presbyterian sabre would be drawn ;* 
In your established laws of sovereignty 
The rest gome fundamental flaw would see. 
And call rebellion gospel-liberty. 
To churqh-decrees your articles require . 
Submission mollified, if not entire.f 
Homage denied, to censures you proceed ; 
Sut when Curtana % will not do the deed. 
You lay that pointless clergy-weapon by. 
And to the laws, your sword of justice, fly. 
Now this your sects the more unkindly take, 
'(Those prying varlets hit the bolts you make.) 
Because some ancient friends of vours declare. 
Your only rule of faith the Scriptures ve. 
Interpreted by men of judgment sound. 
Which every sect will for themselves expound ; 

* In a Polish Diet, where unanimity was necessary^ the mode 
adopted ofensuring it was for the majority to hew to pieces the 
first individual who expressed his dissent by the &tal veto. 

+ '^ The church, according to the articles of faith, hath power 
to decree rites and ceremonies, and authority in controversies of 
faith ; and yet it is not lawful for the church to ordain any thing 
that is contrary to God's word written, neither may it so expound 
one place of Scripture, that it be repugnant to another." Artide 


X This ro^lantic name is given to the sword of mercy ; which 
wants a point, and is said to have been that of Edward the C<m- 
fessor. It is borne at the coronation. The sword of Ogier the 
Dane, fampus in romance, the work of GaUod, who made 
Joyeuse and Durandal^ was also called Curtana. 


Nor think less reverence to tbeir doctors du^ 
For sound interpretatlcHi^ than to you. 
If then, by. able bei^Js, are understood 
Your brother prophets, who reform'd abroad ; 
Those able heads expound a wiser way, ' 
That tbeir own sheep their sh^ph^d should obey. 
But if you mean yourselves are only sound, 
Tbat doctrine turns the reformation round. 
And all the rest are false reform^s found > 
Because in sundry points you stand alone. 
Not in communion join'd with any one ; 
And therefore must be all the church» or none. 
Then, till you hav^ agreed whose judge is b^st, 
Aga.inst this forced submission they protest ; 
^\^ile sound, and sound a different sense explains. 
Both play at hardhead till they break their brains ; 
And from their chairs each other's force defy, 
While unregarded thunders vainly fly. 
I pass the rest, because your church alone 
Of all usurpers best could fill the throne. 
But neither you, nor any sect beside. 
For this high office can be qualified. 
With necessary gifts required in such a guide. 
For that, which must direct the whole, must be 
Bound in one bond of faith and unity ; 
But all your several (lurches disagree. 
The cpnsubstantiating church* and priest 
B«efuse communion to the Calvinist ; 
TheFrench reform'd from preachingy ou restrain, 
Because you judge their ordination vain ;f 
And so they judge of yours, but donors must 

* The Lutherans. 

-f The Huguenot preachers, being Calvinists, had received 
dassical, and not episcopal ordination ; hence, unless re-ordain- 
ed, th^ were net adButted-te pn«di in the established church 
of England. 


In short, in doctrine, or in discipline. 
Not one reformed can with anotner join ; 
^ut all from each, as from damnation, fly t 
No union they pretend, but in non-pc^ry. 
Nor, should their numbers in a 63mod meet. 
Could any church presume to mount the seat. 
Above the rest, their discords to dedde ; 
Npne would obey, but each would be the guide ; 
And face to face dissensions would increase. 
For only distance now preserves the peace. 
All in tneir turns accusers, and accused, 
Sabel was never half so much confused ; 
What one can plead, the rest can plead as weU ; 
For amongst equals lies no last appeal. 
And all confess themselves are fallible. 
Now, since you grant some necessary guide. 
All who can err are justly laid aside ; 
Because a trust so sacred to confer 
Shews want of such a sure interprets ; 
And how can he be needful who can err ? 
Then, granting that unerring guide we want. 
That such there is you stand obliged to grant ; 
Our Saviour else were wanting to supply 
Our needs, and obviate that necessity. 
It then remains, that church can only be 
The guide, which owns unfailing certainty ; 
Or else you slip your hold, and change your side. 
Relapsing from a necessary guide. 
But this annex'd condition of the crown. 
Immunity from errors, you disown ; 
Here then you shrink, and lay your weak pre- 
tensions down.* 
For petty royalties you raise debate ; 
But this unfailing universal state 
You shun ; nor dare succeed to such a glorious 
weight ; 

♦ Note VIII. 


And for that cause those promises detest. 
With which our Saviour did his church invest ; 
But strive to evade, and fear to find them true, 
As conscious they were never meant to you ; 
All which the mother-church asserts her own. 
And with unrivall'd claini ascends the throne. 
So, when of old the Almighty Father sate 
In council, to redeem our ruin'd state. 
Millions of millions^ at a distance round. 
Silent the sacred consistory crown'd. 
To hear what mercy, mixt with justice, could 

propound ; 
All prompt, with eager pity, to fulfil 
The full extent of their Creator^s will : 
But when the stem conditions were declared, 
A mournful whisper through the host was heard. 
And the whole hierarchy, with heads hung down. 
Submissively declined theponderousproffer'dcrown. 
Then, not till then, the Eternal Son fi-om high ' 
Rose in the strength of all the Deity ; 
Stood forth to accept the terms, and underwent '\ 
A weight which all the fi*ame of heaven had bent, > 
Nor he himself could bear, but as omnipotent. } 
Now, to remove the least remaining doubt. 
That even the blear-eyed sects may find her out. 
Behold what heavenly rays adorn her brows. 
What fi-om his wardrobe her beloved allows. 
To deck the wedding-day ofhis unspotted spouse !* 
Behold what mark! of majesty she brin^ 
Richer than ancient heirs of eastern kings ! 
Her right hand holds the sceptre and the keys. 
To shew whom she commands, and who obeys ; 
With these to bind, or set the sinner fi^ee. 
With that to assert spiritual royalty. 

♦ Note IX. 

VOL. X. M 


One in herself, nor rent by schism^ but sound. 
Entire^ one solid shining di^unond ; 
Not sparkles shattered into sects like you ; 
One is the cburdi, and must be to be true ; 
One central principle of unity ; 
As undivided, so from errors free ; 
As one in fiiith, so one in sanctity. 
Thus she, and none but she, the insulting rage 
Of heretics opposed from age to age ; 
Still when the giant-l^ood invades her throne, v 
She $tom)s from heaven, and meets them halfway ( 

down, r 

And with paternal thunder vindicates her crown, ^ 
But like Egyptian sorcerers you stand. 
And vainly lift aloft your magic wandj 
To sweep away the swarms of vermin from th^ 


You could, like them» with like infernal force. 
Produce the plague, but not arrest the course. 
But when the boils and blotches, with disgrace 
And public scandal, sat upon his face. 
Themselves attacked, the Magi strove no more, ^ 
They saw God's finger, and their fete deplore ; L 
Themselves they could not cure of the dishonest j 

Thus one, thus pure, behold her largely spread. 
Like the feir ocean from her mother-bed ; 
From east to west triumphantly she rides. 
All shores are water'd by her wealthy tides. 

* The magicians imitated Moses in producing the frogs whidi 
infested Egypt ; but they could not relieve from that, or any of 
the other plagues. By that of boils and blains they were afflicted 
themselves, like the other Egyptians. " And the magicians could 
not stand before Moses because of the boils, for the boils were 
upon the magicians^ and upon all the Egyptians." — Ea:o(L ix. II. 


The gospel-sound, diffused from pole to pole. 
Where winds can carry, and where waves can roll. 
The self-s^me doctrine of the sacred page 
Convey'd to every cUme, in every age. 

Here let my sorrow give my satire place. 
To raise new blushes on my British race. 
Our sailing ships like common*sewers we use, 
And through our distant colonies diffuse 
Thedraught of dungeons, and the stench of stews 
Whom, when their home-bred honesty is lost. 
We disembogue on some far Indian coast. 
Thieves, pandars, palliards,* sins of every sort ; 
Those are the manufactures we export, 
And these the missioners of zeal has made ; 
For, with my country's pardou, be it said. 
Religion is the least of all our trade. 

-Yet some improve their traffic more than we ; 
For they on gain, their only god, rely. 
And set a public price on piety. 
Industrious of the needle and the chart. 
They run full sail to their Japonian maii; ; 
Preventing fear, and, prodig^ of fame. 
Sell all of Christian to the very name,f 
Nor leave enough of that to hide their naked 

Thus^ of three marks, which in the creed we view, 
Not one of all can be applied to you ; 
Much less the fourth. In vain, alas ! you seek 
The ambitious title of apostolic : | 
God-like descent ! 'tis well your blood can be 
Proved noble in the third or fourth degree ; 
For all of ancient that you had before, 
I mean what is not borrow'd from our store, 
Was error fulminated o'er and o'er ; 

Debauchees. + Note X. J Note XI. 


Old heresies oondemn'd in aees past, 

By care and time recovered from the blast.* 

'Tis said with ease, but never can be proved. 
The church her old foundations has removed. 
And built new doctrines on unstable sands : 
Judge that, ye winds and rains ! you proved her, 

yet she stands. 
Those ancient doctrines charged on her for new. 
Shew when, and how, and finom what hands they 

We claim no power, when heresies grow bold, 
To coin new &ith, but still declare me old. 
How else could that obscene disease be purged. 
When controverted texts are vainly urged ? 
To prove tradition new, there's somewhat more 
Required, than saying, *twas not used before. 
Those monumental arms are never stirr'd. 
Till schism or heresy call down Groliah's sword. 

Thus, what you call corruptions, are, in truth, 
The first plantations of the gospel's youth ; 
Old standard faith ; but cast your eyes again, ^ 
And view those errors which new sects maintain, ! 
Or which of old disturbed the church's peaceful f 

reign ; ^ 

And we can point each period of the time. 
When they began, and who begot the cnvfie ; 
Can calculate how long the eclipse endured. 
Who interposed, what digits were obscured. 
Of all which are already pass'd away. 
We know the rise, the progress and decay. 

Despair at our foundations then to strike. 
Till you can prove your faith apostolic ; 

* Alluding to the doctrines of Wickliff and the Lollards^ con- 
demned as heresies in their own times, but revived by the Re- 


A limpid stream drawn from the native source ; 
Succession lawful in a lineal course. 
Prove any church opposed to this our head. 
So one, so pure, so unconfinedly spread. 
Under one chief of the spiritual state. 
The members all combined, and all subordinate ; 
Shew such a seamless coat, from schism so free. 
In no communion loin'd with heresy ; — 
If such a one you find, let truth pr/vLil ; 
Till when, your weights will in the balance 
A church unprincipled kicks up the scale 
But if you cannot think, (nor sure you can 
Suppose in God what were unjust in man,) 
That He, the fount£n of eternal grace. 
Should suffer falsehood for so long a space 
To banish truth, and to usurp her place ; 
That seven successive ages should be lost. 
And preach damnation at their proper cost ;♦ 
That all your erring ancestors should die, 
Drown'd in the abvss of deep idolatry ; 
If piety forbid sucn thoughts to rise. 
Awake, and open your unwilling eyes. 
God hath left nothing for each age undone. 
From this to that wherein he sent his Son ; 
Then think but well of him, and half your work 

is done. 
See how his church, adom*d with every grace, 
With open arms, a kind forgiving face. 
Stands ready to prevent her long-lost son's em 

Not more did Joseph o'er his brethren weep. 
Nor less himself could from discovery keep. 

♦ About seven hundred years elapsed before the departure of 
the dmrch of Rome from the sunplicity of the primitive Chris* 
tiaiw^ and the dawn of the Reformation. 




When in the crowd of suppliants they Were.seei, 
And in their crew his best-loved Benjamin. 
That pious Joseph in the Church behold, ^ 

To feed your famine, and refuse your gold ; v 
The Joseph you exiled, the Joseph whom you sold *) 

Thus, while with heavenly charity she spoke, 

A streaming blaze the silent shaddws broke ; 

Shot from the skies a cheerful azure light ; ^ 

The birds obscene to forests winged their ffigbt, ) 

' And gaping graves received the wandering guilty \ 

sprite. * 

Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky. 
For James his late nocturnal victory ; 
The pledge of his almighty Pmron's love. 
The fireworks which his angels made iabove.f 
I saw myself the lambent easy light ^ 
Gild the brown horror, 4nd dispel the hight ; 
The messenger with speed the tidings bore ; ) 
News, which three labouring nations did restore ; >• 
But heaven's own Nuntius was mived before: | 

By this, the Hind had reach'd her lonely cell. 
And vapours rose, and dews unwholesome fell ; 
When she, by frequent observation wise, ^ 

As one who long on heaven had fix'd her eyes, >• 
Discem'd a change of weather in the skies. ) 
The western borders were with crimson spread. 
The moon descending, look'd all flaming red ; 
She thought gdod manners bound her 16 invite 
The stranger dame to be her guest that night. 
TTis true, coarse diet, and a short repast, 
She said, were weak inducements to the taste 
Of one so nicely bred, and so unused to fast ; 
But what plain fare her cottage could afford, 
A hearty welcome at a homely board. 

Note XI. t Note XII. J Poeia loquUur. 


Was freely hers ; and, to supply the rest, 

An honest meaning, and an open breast ; 

Last, with content of mind; the poor man's wealth, 

A grace-cup to their common patron's ♦ health* 

This she desired her to accept, and stay, 

Por fear she might be wilder'd in her way. 

Because she wanted an unerring guide. 

And then the dew drops on her silken hide 

Her tender constitution did declare, 

Too lady«like a long fatigue to bear. 

And rough inclemencies of raw nocturnal air. 

But most she fear'd, ihst travelling so late, ^ 

Some eviUminded beasts might lie in wait, >- 

And without witnesis wreak their hidden hate. ) 

The Panther, though she lent a listening ear. 
Had more c^ lion in her than to fear ; 
Yet wisely weighing, since she had to deal 
With many foes, their numbers might prevail, 
Retum'd her all the thanks she could afford. 
And took her friendly hostess at her word ; 
Who, entering first her lowly roof, a shed ij 

With hoary moss and winding ivy spread, v 

Honest enough to hide an humble hermit's head, 3 
Thus graciously bespoke her welcome guest : 1 
So might these walls, with your fair presence blest, >• 
Become your dwelling-place of everlasting rest ; ) 
Not for a night, or quick revolving year. 
Welcome an owner, not a sojourner. 
This peaceful seat my poverty secures ; 
W^r seldom enters but where wealth allures : 
Nor yet despise it ; for this poor abode 
Has oft; received, and yet receives a Gk)d ; 
A Grod, victorious of a Stygian race. 
Here ladd his sacred limbs, and sanctified the place. 

* King James. t Note XIII. 


This mean retreat did mighty Pan * contain ; 
Be emulous of him, and pomp disdain. 
And dar^ not to debase your soul to gain.-f^ 

The silent stranger stood amazed to see 
Contempt of wealui, and wilful poverty ; 
And, though ill habits are not soon controul'd. 
Awhile suspended her desire of gold ; 
But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws, 
Not violating hospitable laws. 
And pacified her tail, and licked her frothy jaws. 

The Hind did first her country cates provide ; 
Then couch'd herself securely by her side. 

• Our Saviour. 

t Ut ventum ad sedes : Hasc, inquii, Umina XficUHr 
Alcidet suUU ; hasc Ulum regia cqnt* 
jfude, hospes, contemnere opes^ et te quoque dignum 
Finge deo; rdwsque veni turn asper egenis. 

iEneiU Lib. VIIL 





Note I. 

Dame, said the Panther, times are mended wellf 

Since late among the Philistines you fell. 

The toils were pitch'd, a spacious tract of ground. 

With expert huntsmen, was encompassed round; 

The enclosure narrow' d ; the sagacious power 

Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour,'--'V, l6l. 

In these spirited lines, Dryden describes the dangers in which 
the English Catholics were involved by the Popish Plot, which 
rendered them so obnoxious for two years^ that even Charles him- 
self^ much as he was inclined to favour them, durst not attempt 
to prevent the most severe measures £rom being adopted towards 
thenu It is somewhat curious^ that the very same metaphor of 
hounds and huntsmen is employed by one of the most warm ad« 
▼ocates for the plot. " Had this plot been a forged contrivance 
of their own^ (t. e. the Papists,) they would at the very first dis« 
<»very of it have had half a dozen^ or half a score, crafty fellows^ 
ready to have attested all the same things ; whereas^ on the con- 
trary, notwithstanding we are now on a burning scent, we were 
fain till here of late, to pick out, by little and Tittle, all upon a 
cold scent, and that stained too by the tricks and malice of our 
enemies* So that had not we had some such good huntsmen as 
the Right Noble Earl of Shaftesbury to manage the chase for us, 
oar hounds must needs have been baffled, and the game lost."— 
Appeal from the Country to the City. State Tracts, p. 407. 



Note 11. 

As I remember, said the sober Hind, 

Those toils were for your orvn dear self design'd. 

As meUas me ; and mth the self-same throw. 

To catch the quarry and the vermin too, s 

{Forgive the slanderous tongue that ccdTdyou Jo.) 

Howe' er you take it now, the common cry 

Then ran you down for your rank loyalty. — P, 1 62. 

The country party, during the l679> ^^^ the succeeding years, 
were as much incensed against the divines of the high church of 
England as against the Papists. The furious pamphlet, quoted 
in the last note, divides the enemies of this country into four 
classes ; officers, courtiers, over-hot churchmen, and Papists. 
*' Ov^r-hot cnurchmen," it continues, " are bribed to wish well 
"io Popery^ by the hopes, if not of a cardinal's cap, yet at least by 
a command over some abbey, priory, or other ecclesiastical pre- 
ferment, whereof the Romish church hath so great plenty. These 
are the men, who exclaim against our parliament's proceedings, 
in relation to the plot, as too violent, calling these times by no 
other name than that oS forty or foyrty-one ;* when, to amuse as 
well his sacred majesty as his good people, they again threaten us 
with snoihet forty-eight ; and all this is done to vindicate under- 
hand the Catnolic party, by throwing a suspidon on the fanatics. 
These are the gentlemen who so magnify the principles of Bishop 
Laud, and so much extol the writings of that same late spirited 
prelate Dr Hey lin, who hath made more Papists by his books than 
Christians by his sermons. These are those episcopal Tantivies, 
who can make even the very Scriptures pimp for me court, irfio 
out of Urim and Thummim can extort a sermon, to prove the uol 
paying oi tithes and taxes to be the sin against the Holy Ghost ; 
and hstd rather see the kingdom run down with blood, than tMurt 
with the least hem of a sanctified frock, which they themadlves 
made holy." — Appeal, &c. State Tracts^ p. 403. In a very violent 
tract, written expressly agninst the influence of the clergy#+ they 
are charged with being the principal instruments of the court in 
corrupting elections. *' I find," says the author, when talku^ nS 
the approaching general election, *' all persons are very forward 
to countenance this public work, except the high-flown ritualists 
and ceremony-mongers of the clergy, who, being in the conspi- 
racy against the people, lay themselves out to accommodate their 

* The great Civil Wai broke out in 1641-2, and the kins was dethroned in 
1648. , * 

t " The Freeholders Choice, or a Letter of Advice concerning filections.^ 


masters with the veriest villains that can be picked up in all the 
^country f that so we tnay fall into the hands again of as treacherous 
and lelrd a parliainent^ as the wisdom of God and folly of man haa 
mdst miraculously dissolved. To which end they traduce all wor- 
thy men for fanatics, sdiismatics^ or favourers of thetoi. Nay^ do 
but pitch upon a gentleman^ who believes it his duty to serve his 
God^^ bis Iciilg, and Country, ^thfblly, they cry him down as a 
person dangerous and disaffected to the government ; thinking 
thei^y to scare the people from the freedom of their choice^ and 
then imposie their hairbrained journeymen and half-witted fops 
upon them." In Shadwell's Whig play, called ** The Lancashire 
Witches/' he has ititroduced an high-flying chaplain, as the ex- 
pressicm then run, and an Irish priest, who are described as very 
teady to accommodate each other in all religious tenets, since they 
agree ih disbelieving the Popish Plot, and m believing that ascri* 
bed to the fanatics. These, out of a thousand instances, may serve 
to shew, how closely the couptry party in the time of Charles II. 
were disposed to identify the interests of Rome^ and of tlie high 
church of England. Dryden is therefore well authorized to say, 
that both communions were aimed at by that cabal, which pushed 
on the investigation of the supposed plot* 

Note III. 

The testy it seems» at last has loosed your tongue* — P. l62. 

If there was any ambiguity in the church of England's doctrine 
concerning the eucharist, it was fully explained by the memorable 
Test Act, passed in I678, during the heat of the Popish Plot, by 
which all persons holding public offices were required, under pain 
of disqualification, to disown the doctrine of transubstandation, 
in the most explicit terms, as also that of image worship. This 
bUl Was pressed forwards with great violence by the country par- 
ty. *' I would not," said one of their orators, *' have a popish 
man, or a popish woman, remain here ; not a popish dog, or a 
popish bitch ; not so much as a popisH cat, to pur and mew about 
the king.'' Many of the chiu*ch of England party opposed this 
testy flrom an idea that it was prejudicial to the interests of the 

Note IV. 

/ then affirm^ thai this unfailing guide 

In Pope and general councils must reside ; 

Both tawful, Mh combined ; what one decrees 

By numerous votes, the other ratifies ; 

On this undoubted sense the church relies. -^F. l6^. 

' Dryden does not plead the cause of infallibility so high as to 


declare it lodged in the Pope ^one ; b^t inclines to the milder 
and more moderate opinion^ which vests it in the church and Pope 
jointly. This was the shape in which the doctrine was stated in 
the pamphlets generally dispersed from the king^s printizig-piieflB 
about dus time ; whether because James really held the <^mion 
of the Ultramontane^ or Gallican churchy in this point, or that 
he thought the more moderate statement was most likely to be 
acceptable to new converts. In a dialogue betwixt a Misgioner 
and a Plain Man^ printed along with the Rosary, in a very small 
form, and apparently designed for very extensive circulation^ the 
question is thus stated : — 

'< Plain Man. How shall I know what the church teaches, and 
by what means may I come to know her infallible doctrine ? 

*' Misnoner, In those cases^ she speaks to us by her supreme 
courts of judicature, her general councils, which, being the l^al 
representatives of her whole body, she is secured from erring in 
them as to all things which appertain to faith." 

Note V. 

Bui mark horn sandy is your own pretence, 
WhOf setting councils. Pope, and church aside. 
Are every man his orvn presuming suide. 
The sacred hooksy you say, arejuU and plain. 
And every needful point of truth contain ; 
All who can read interpreters may 5e.— P. l65. 

This ultimate appeal to the Scriptures against the authority of 
the church, as it is what the church of Rome has most to dread, 
is most combated by her followers. Dryden, like a good cour- 
tier, adopts here, as well as elsewhere, the arguments which con- 
verted his master, Charles II. " We declare," says the king in his 
first paper, ** to believe one Catholic and apostolic church ; and 
it is not led to every phantastical man's head to believe as he 
pleases, but to the church, to whom Christ left the power upon 
earth, to govern us in matters of faith, who made these creeds for 
our directions. It were a very irrational thing to make laws for 
a country, and leave it to the inhabitants to be interpreters and 
judges of those laws : For then every man will be his own judg^ ; 
and, by consequence, no such thing as either right or wrong. 
Can we therefore suppose, that God Almighty would leave us at 
those uncertainties, as to give us a rule to go by, and leave every 
man to be his own judge ? I do ask any ingenuous man. Whether 
it be not the same thing to follow our own phancy, or to inter- 
pret the Scripture by it ? I would have any man shew me, where 
the ppwer of deciding matters of faith is given to every particular 
man. Christ left his power to his church, even to forgive sins in 


heaven ; and left his Spirit with them, which they exercised af« 
ter his resurrection ; first by his apostles in the creed, and many 
years after by the council at Nice, where that creed was made 
that is called by that name ; and by the power which they had 
received from Christ, they were the judges even of the scripture 
itself many years after the apostles, which books were canonical, 
and which were not "'^^Papers found in King Charles's strong box. 

Note VL 

The good old bishops took a simpler wayy 
Each asked but what he heard his father say. 
Or how he was instructed in his youth. 
And by tradition's force upheld the truth. — P. 167* 

Dryden had previously attacked the rule of faith, by private 
judgment of the Holy Scriptures. His assumption is, that the 
Scriptures having been often misunderstood and abused by he- 
retics of various descriptions, there must be some more infallible 
guide left us by God as the rule of faith. Instead of trusting, 
therefore, to individual judgment founded on the Scripture, he 
urges, that the infallibity of faith depends upon oral tradition, 
handed down, as his communion pretends, by father to son, from 
the times of liie primitive church till this very day. It is upon 
this foundation that the Church of Rome rests her claim to in- 
fiillibility, as the immediate representative of the apostles and 
primitive church. 

Note VII. 

For paring fires traditions must not fight; 
But they must prove episcopacy's righi.'^F. 170. 

The doctrine of purgatory, and prayers for the dead, is found- 
ed on a passage in the book of Tobit. The Apocrypha not being 
absolutely rejected by the Church of England, but admitted for 
^ example ot life and instruction of manners," though not of 
canonical authority, part of this curious and romantic history is 
read in the course of the calendar. The domestic circumstances 
of the dog gave unreasonable scandal to the Puritans, from which 
the followmg is a good-humoured vindication. '^ Give me leave 
toft once to mtercede for that poor dog, because he is a dog of 
ffood example, for he was faithful, and loved his master ; besides, 
3iat he never troubles the church on Sundays, when people have 
their best clothes on ; only on a week-day, when scrupulous 
brethren are always absent, the poor cur makes bold to follow 
his master." But although the Church of England did not receive 
the traditive belief, founded upon the aforesaid passage concern- 
ing prayer for the dead, the dissenters accused her of liberal re- 


£srence to tradition in the disiputes conceding th^ office of bi« 
shop, the nature of whieh is in the New Testament 1^ aovieirliat 

Note VIIL 

But this annex' d condUion of the crorvn. 
Immunity from errors^ you disown ; 
Here then you shrink^ and lay your weak pretensions down, 

P. 176. 

Much of the preceding aiT^ument^ and in this oondnsion^ is 
founded upon the following passage in the second paper found 
in King Charles's strong box. ** It is a sad thing to consider 
what a world of heresies are crept into this nation. Every man 
thinks himself as OHUpetent a judge of the Scriptures bb the very 
apostles themselyes; and 'tis no wonder that it 'should be so,' 
smce that part of the naticm which looks mosi like a churdii, dares 
not bring the true arguments against the other sects, fbr-fear they 
should be turned against themselves^ and confhted by t^ir owa 
arguments. The Church of England, as 'tis called* would £uq 
have it thought, that they aris j udges in mattes spiritual, and yet 
dare not positively say, diat there is no appeal £rom them ; for 
^ther they must say, that they are infallible, which they cannot 
pretend to, pr confess^ that what they decide in matters of cotbi 
science is no further to be followed^ than as it agrees with every 
man's private judgment." 

To this the divines of England answered, that theyindeed as- 
serted church authority, but without pretending to infallibility ; 
and that while the church decided upon points of faith, she was 
to be directed and guided by the Scriptures, just as the judges 
of a temporal tribunal are to frame their decisions^ not from any 
innate or infallible authority of their own, but in conformity witi^ 
the laws of the realm. 

Note IX. 

Behold, what heavenly rays axiom her brows, 

What from his wardrobe her beloved allows. 

To deck the wedding-day of his unspotted spouse /—P. 177. 

In this and the following lines Dryd«i sets forth his adopted 
Mother-Church in all the glowing attributes of majesty and au- 
thority. The lines are extremely beautiful, and their policy is 
obvious, from the following passage in a pretended letter from 
Father Petre to Father La Chaise. The letter bears every msak 
indeed of forgery ; but it is equally an illustration 6f Dryden, 
whether the policv contained in it was attributed by the Pro- 
testants to the Catholics as part of their scheme, or was really 


avowed as such by themselves. *' Many English heretics resort 
often to our sermons; and I have often recommended, to. our fa- 
thers to preach now in the beginning as little as they can of the 
controversy, because that provokes ; but to represent to them the 
beauty and'antiquity of the Catholic religion^ that they may be 
convinced that all that has been said and preached to them^ and 
their own reflections concerning it, have been all scandal."-^* 
SoMKES* Tracts, p. 9,bS. The unity of the Catholic church was 
also chiefly insisted on during the controversy : 

One in herself, not rent by schism, but sound, 
Entire ; one solid, shining £ainond ; 
Not sparkles shattered unto seets like you ; 
One is the church, and must be to be true. 

It seems to have escaped Dryden^ that all the various sects 
which have existed^ and do now exist* in the Christian worlds 
may, in some measure, be said to be sparkles shattered from his 
** solid diamond ;" since at one time all Christendom belcmged 
to the Roman church. Thus the disunion of the various sects of 
Protestants is no more an argument against the Church of Eng- 
hmd than It is against the Church of Rome, or the Christian faith 
ht general. All communions insist on the same privilege ; and 
when the Church of Rome denounced the Protestants' as here- 
tics, like Coriolanus going into^exile^ they returned the sentence 
against her who gave it. If it is urged, that, notwithstanding 
these various defections, the Roman Church retained the most 
extended commiinion, this plea would place the truth of religi- 
ous opinions upon the hazardous basis of numbers, which Maho- 
metan's might plead more successfully, than any Christian church, 
in proportion as their faith is more widely extended. These ar- 
guments of the unity and extent of the church are thus express- 
ed in a missionary tract already quoted, where the Plain Man 
thus addresses his English parson : '* Either shew me, by more 

eiin and positive texts of Scripture than what the Missioner has 
re brought, that God Almighty has promised to preserve his 
church from essential errors^ such as are idolatry^ superstition^ 
&c ; or else shew me a church visible in all ages sp^^^ad over the 
fiice of the whole world, secured from such errors, and at unity 
in itself. A church, that^'has had all along kings for nursing 
fathers, and queens for nursing mothers ; a diurch, to which all 
nations have flowed, and whim is authorized to teach them in- 
fallibly all those truths which were delivered to the saints with- 
out mixtures of error^ which destroy sanctity ; I say, either shew 
me, from plain texts of Scripture, tliat Christ's church was not 
to be my infallible guide ; or shew me such a Church of Christ 
as these promises require, distinct from that of the Roman^ and 
from which she has either separated, or been cut off." 




Industrious of the needle and the chart, 
Thetf runfiM sail to their Japonian mart ; 
Preventing Jear, and prodigal offamey 
SM all (^Christian to the very name.'^T. 179* 

The author has, a little above^ used an argument» much to the 
honour of the CaUiolic church— her unceasing diligence in la- 
bouring for the conversion of the heathen ; a task, in which her 
missionaries have laboured with unwearied assiduity^ encounter- 
ing fatigue^ danger, and martjrrdom itself, in winning souls to the 
faith. It has been justly objected* that the spiritu^ instruction 
of their converts is but slight and superficial ; yet still their mis- 
sionary zeal forms a strong contrast to the indifference of the re- 
formed churches in this duty. Nothing of the kind has ever been 
attempted on a sreat or national scale by the Church of England, 
which gives CaUiolics rdom to upbraid her clergy witli their un« 
ambitious sloth, in declining the dignity of becoming bishi^ ta 
partibus injidelium. The poet goes on to state the scandalous ma* 
terials with which it has been the universal custom of Britain to 
supply the population of her colonies ; the very dregs and out- 
casts of humanity being the only recruits whom she destines to 
establish the future marts for her commodities. The success of 
such missionaries among the savage tribes, who have the misfixt- 
tune to be placed in their vicinity, may be easily guessed : 

Deliberate and undeceived, 

The wild men*s vices they received, 

And gave them back their own.— Wordsworth. 

On the other band, the care of the Catholic missionaries was 
by no means limited to the spiritual concerns of those heathens 
among whom they laboured : they extended them to their tem- 
poral concerns, and sometimes unfortunately occasioned grievous 
civil dissensions, and much bloodshed. Something of this kind 
took place in Japan ; where the Christians, having raised a re- 
bellion against the heathens, (for the beaten party, as Drydmi 
says, are always rebels to the victors,) were exterminated, root 
and branch. This excited such an utter hatred of Catholic priests, 
and their religion, that they were prohibited, under the deepest 
denunciations of death and confiscation, from landing in. Japan. 
Nevertheless, the severity of this law did not prevent the Hol- 
landers from sharing in the gainful traffic of the island, which 
they gained permission to do, by declaring, that they were not 
Christians, (only meaning, we hope, that they were not Catho- 
lics,) but JDutchmen ; and it was currently believed, that, in cor- 
roboration of their assertion, they were required to trample upon 
the crucifix, the object of adoration to those whom the Jitpanese 
had formerly known under the name of Christians. 


Note XL 

Thus of three marks which in the creed toe view. 
Not one ofaU can he applied to you, 
Much less thejourth ; in vain^ alas! you seek 
The ambitious title qf apostolic. — P. 179. 

The poet is enumeratiiig the marks of the Catholic churdi, 
according to the Nicene creed, which he makes out to be Unity, 
Truth, Sanctity, and Apostolic Derivation, all of which he de« 
nies to the Church of England. The qualities of truth and sane-* 
tity are implied under the word Catholic* 

Note X;i. 

That pious Joseph in the church behold, 

To feed yourfaminey and refuse your gold $ 

The Joseph you exiled^ the Joseph whom you sold.^-V. 182. 

The English Benedictine monks executed a renunciation of 
llie abbey knds, belon^ng to the order before the Reformati(»ij 
in order to satisfy the minds of the possessors, and reconcile them 
to the re-establishment of the ancient religion, by guaranteeing 
the stability of their property. There appeared, however, to the 
pfoprietors of these lands, little generosity in this renunciation, in 
cue the monks were to remain in a condition of inability to sup- 
' port their pretended claim ; and, on the other hand, some reason 
to suspect its validity, should they ever be strong enough to plead 
their title. The king^s declaration of indulgence contained a pro- 
mise upon this head, which appeared equally ominous : He decla- 
red, that he would maintain his loving subjects in their proper- 
ties and possessions, <^ as well of church and abbey lanas as of 
any other." The only effect of this clause was to make men 
inquire, whether Popery was so near being established as to 
make such a promise necessary ; and if so, lu>w far the promise 
itself was to be relied upon, in opposition to the doctrine of re- 
aomptiony which had always been enforced by the Roman see, 
even when these church lands fell into the hands of persons of 
tbeir own persuasion, unless they were dedicated to pious uses. 
Nor were there wanting persons to remind the proprietors of such 
lands, that the 'canons declared that even the Pope had no author 
rity to confirm the alienation of the property of the chin*ch ; that 
the ceneral council of Trent had solemnly anathematized all who 
detained churdi lands ; that the Monasticon AngUcanum was care- 
fiiUj preserved in the Vatican as a rule for the intended resump« 
tion ; and that the reigning Pope had obstinately refused to con- 
firm any such alienations by his bulls, though the doing so at thie 
crisb might have removed a great obstacle to the growth of Po- 

VOL. X. N 


pery in Eng1and.i~See, in the Siaie Tracts, a piece called " Ab- 
bey Lands not assured to Roman Catholics/' vol. I. p. 826 ; and 
more especially a tract, by some ascribed to Burnet, and by odien 
to Sir William CovenUy, entitled, *' A Letter written to Dr Bur- 
net, giving some account of Cardinal Pole's secret powers ; from 
whi(£ it appears, Uiat it never was intended to confirm the Alie- 
nation that was made of the Abbey Lands. To which are added, 
Two Breves that Cardinal Pole brought over, and some other of 
his Letters that were never before printed^ 1685." 

Note XII L 

Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky. 

For Jame$ his late nocturnal victory ; 

The pledge of his almighty Patron's lovCf 

The ^reworks which hts angels made o^e.— P. 182. 

The aurora borealis was an uncommon spectacle in England 
during the 17th century. Its occasional appearance, however, 
gave foundation to those tales of armies fighting in the air, and 
similar phenomena with which the credulity of the vulgar was 
amused. The author seems to allude to some extraordinary dis- 
play of the aurora borealis on the evening of the battle of Sedge- 
muuTy which was chiefly fought by night. I do not find the cir- 
cumstance noticed elsewhere. Dryden attests it by his personal 

Note XIV. 

And then the dew-drops on her silken hide 

Her tender constitution did declare. 

Too lady-like a long fatigue to hear^ 

And rough inclemencies ofravo nocturnal air. — P. 183. 

This seems to be a sarcasm of the same kind with the following: 
" But," says the zealous Protes^int of the mother church, '' if 
you repeal the test, you take away the bulwark that defends die 
church ; for if that were once demolished, the enemy would rush 
in and possess all ; and it is a delicate innocent church that can- 
not be safe but in a fortified place."-—'' I must confess, it is a great 
argument of her modesty to own herself weak and unable to sub- 
sist without the support of parliamentary laws, to hang, draw, or 
quarter her opposers, and without a coercive power in herse^to 
fine and exconamunicate all recusants and nonconformists."* One 
would wish to ask this Catholic advocate for universal toleration, 
if he had ever heard of a court in Popish countries for the pre* 
vention of heresy, generally called the Inquisition ? 

New Test of the Church of £i)gland*i Loyalty. 





J t 






]!^ucH malice, mingled with a little wit. 
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ ; 
B^use the muse has peopled Caledon 
With panthers, bears, and woItcs, and beasts un- 
As if wewerenotstock'd withmonstersof ourown. 
Let ^sop answer, who has set to view 
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew ; 
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress. 
Has sharply blamed a British lioness ; 
That queen, whose feast the Actions rabble keep. 
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.^ 
Lea by those great examples, may not I 
The wonted organs of their words supply ? 
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then 
For iMTutes to claim the privilege of men. 

Others our Hind of fdly wifi indite. 
To entertain a dangerous guest by night 
Let those rmemb^. ibat she cannot die. 
Till reeling time is loist in round eternity ; 

■ t ■ ■ II I ■ 11 I ■ w ■ 

« Note I. . 


Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed^ 
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed ;* 
The wary savage would not give offisnce. 
To forfeit the protection of her prince ; 
But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete. 
When all her furry sons in fr^uent senate met ;f 
Meanwhile she quench'd her fury at the flood. 
And with a lenten sallad cooM her hlood. 
Their commons, though but coarse, were notbuig 

Nor did their minds an equal banquet want. 

For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove 
To express her plain simplicity of love. 
Did all the honours of her house so well. 
No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meaL 
She tum'd the talk, avoiding that extreme. 
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing thane; 
Remembering every storm which toss'd the stat^^l 
When both were objects of the public hate^ > 
And dropta tear betwixtforherown childrens'fate. J 

Nor fail'd she then a full review to make 
Of what the Panther sufTer'd for her sake ; 
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care. 
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir. 
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy. 
Her choice of honourable infamy.| 
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged ; 
Then with acknowledgment herself she charged ; 
For friendship, of itself an holy tie. 
Is made more sacred by adversity. 

' ■ — ^— — .<»^— I I ll^l— M^i^*— 1— ^i^—— — ^IM.lMi—i^M«i»^ 

* The Declaration of Indulgence. 

+ The Convocation. 

X The adherence of the church of England to the interests of 
James, while he was an exile at Brussels, and the Bill of ExcliN 
sion against him was in dependence, is here, as in other pLioeii^ 
made the subject of panegyric. Had the church joined with the 
sectaries, the destruction of the Catholics, at ihe tune of the plot, 
would have been inevitable. 


Kow should they part, malicious tongues would say. 
They met like chance companions on the way. 
Whom mutual fear of robbers had possess'd : 
While danger lasted, kindness was profess'd ; 
But, that once o'er, the short-lived union ends. 
The road divides, and there divide the fnends. 
The Panther nodded, when her speech was done, 

^ And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone ; 
But said, her gratitude had gone too far 
For common offices of Christian care. 
If to the lawful heir she had been true. 
She paid but Ccesar what was Cassar's due, 
I might, she added, with like praise describe 
Your suffering sons, and so return your bribe. 
But incense from my hands is poorly prized ; 

.For gifts are scom'd where givers are despised. 
I served a turn, and then was cast away ; 
You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display, 
And sip the sweets, and bask in your great 
tron's day.-—* 
This heard, the matron was not slow to find 
What sort of malady had seized her mind ; 
Disdain, with gnawing envy, fell despite. 
And cankered malice, stood in open sight ; 
Ambition, interest, pride without controul. 
And jealousy, the jaundice of the soul ; 
Revenge, the bloody minister of ill, 
With all the lean tormentors of the will. 
'Twas easy now to guess from whence arose 
Her new-made union with her ancient foes ; 
Her forced civilities, her faint embrace. 
Affected kindness, with an alter'd face ; 

* The church of England complained, with great reason, of 
the ooldnesfl which they experienced from James, in whose be« 
half they had exerted themselves so successfully. 


Yet durst she not too deeply probe the wound. 
As hoping still the nobler parts were sound ; 
But strove with anodynes to assuage the smart, 
And mildly thus her medicine did impart. 

Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain ; 
It shews a rest of kindness to complain ; 
A friendship loth to quit its former hold. 
And conscious merit, may be justly bold ; 
But much more just your jealousy would show. 
If others* good were injury to you. 
Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to see 
Rewarded worth and rising loyalty ! 
Your warrior ofispring, that upheld the crown. 
The scarlet honour of your peaceful gown. 
Are the most pleasing objects I can find. 
Charms to my sight, and cordials to my mind. 
When virtue spooms* before a prosperous gale^ 
My heaving wishes help to fill the sail ; 
And if my prayers for all the brave were heard, 
Caesar should still have such, and such should still 

The laboured earth your pains have sow'd and 

^Tis just you reap the product of the field. 
Yours be the harvest ; 'tis the beggar's gain. 
To glean the fallings of the loaded wain. 
Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care. 
Your charity, for alms, may safely spare. 
For alms are but the vehides of prayer. 
My daily bread is literally implored ; 
I have no bams nor granaries to hoard. 
If Caesar to his own his hand extends. 
Say which of yours his charity offends ; 
You know, he largely gives to more than are his 


* An old sea-terni, signifying to run before the wind. 


Are you defrauded, when he feeds the jpoor ? 

Our mite decreases nothing of your store. 

I am but few, and by your fare you see 

My crying sins are not of luxury. 

Some juster motive sure your mind withdraws. 

And makes you break our friendship's holy laws ; 

For bare&ced envy is too base a cause. 

Shew more occasion for your discontent ; 

Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent : 

Some German quarrel, or, as times go now. 

Some French,* where force is uppermost, will do. 

When at the fountain's head, as merit ought 

To claim the place, you take a swilling draught. 

How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw. 

And tax the sheep for troubling streams below ; 

Or call her, when no farther cause you find. 

An enemy profess'd of all your kind ! 

Sut, then, perhaps, the wicked world would think. 

The Wolf designed to eat as well as drink.—-. 

This last allusion galPd the Panther more, 
Because, indeed, it rubb'd upon the sore ; 
Yet seem'dshenot to wince, though shrewdly pain'd. 
But thus her passive character maintain'd. 

I never grudged, whatever my foes report. 
Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court. 
You have your day, or you are much belied. 
But I am always on the suffering side ; 
You know my doctrine, and I need not say, 
I will not, but I cannot disobey. 

• line querelle AUemande is the well-known French phrase 
fixr a quarrel picked without cause. The Hind insinuates^ that 
the Panther^ conscious of superior force, meant to take such 
canae of quarrel at the Engluh Catholics^ as Louis had raked 
up against the Huguenots, which, therefore, might be styled 
nraer a French than a Geraian quarrel. 


Their malice, too, a sore suspicidn Inrings ; 

For, though they dare not bcu-k, they snarl at kings. 

On this finn principle I ever stood ; 

He of my sons who fails to make it good. 

By one rebellious act renounces to my blood, 

Ah, said the Hind, how many sons have you. 
Who call you mother, whom you never knew ? 
Sut most of them, who that relation plead. 
Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead* 
They gape at rich revenues which you hold. 
And fain would nibble at your grandame gold ; 
Enquire into your years, and laugh to find 
Your crazy temper shews you much declined. 
Were you not dim and doated, you might see 
A pack of cheats that daim a pedigree, 
No more of kin to you, than you to me. 
Do you not know, that, for a little coin. 
Heralds can foist a name into the line ? 
They ask you blessing but for what you have. 
But, once possess'd of what with care you save. 
The wanton boys would piss upon your grave. 

Your sons of latitude, that court your grace. 
Though most resembling you in form and face. 
Are far the worst of your pretended race ;j 
And, but I blush your honesty to blot. 
Pray God you prove them lawfully begot ! 
For, in some Popish libels I have read. 
The Wolf has been too busy in your bed ;f 
At least their hinder parts, the belly-piece. 
The paunch, and all that Scorpio claims,:]: are his. 

* Note 11. t Note III. 

i The different parts of the body were assigned to diffisrent 
planets. The old almanacks have a naked figure in front, 8ur« 
rounded by the usual planetary emblems, which dart their rays 
on the parts which they govern. What Scorpio daims, if not 
apparent from the context, may be there found. 


Nor blame them for intaiiding in yoiir line ; 
Fat bishopricks are still of right divine. 
Think you, your new French proselytes are come. 
To starve abroad, because they starved at home ? 
Your benefices twinkled from afar. 
They found the new Messiah by the star ; 
Those Swisses fight on any side for pay. 
And 'tis the living that conforms, not they. 
Mark .with what management their tribes divide ; 
Some stick to you, and some to t'other side. 
That many churches may for many mouths pro- 
More vacant pulpits would more converts make ; 
All would have latitude enough to take. 
The rest unbeneficed your sects maintain ; 
For ordinations, without cures, are vain. 
And chamber practice is a silent gain. 
Your sons of breadth at home are much like these ; 
Theh* soft and yielding metals run with ease ; 
They melt, and take the figure of the mould. 
But harden and preserve it best in gold.— - 

Your Delphic sword, the Panther then replied. 
Is double-edged, and cuts on either side. 
Some sons of mine, who bear upon their shield 
Three steeples argent in a sable field. 
Have sharply tax'd your converts, who, unfed. 
Have follow'd you for miracles of bread ; f 
Such, who themselves of no reUgion are. 
Allured with gain, for any will declare. 
Bare lies, with bold assertions, they can face ; 
But dint of argument is out of place. 
The grim logician puts them in a fright ; 
'Tis easier far to flourish than to fight.J 

♦ Note IV. 

f Alluding to the charges brought against Dryden himself 
by Stillingfleet. See Note V. 
t Note VI. 


Thus, our eighth Henrjr's marriage they de&me ; 
They say, the schism of beds began tlie game, 
Divordng from the church to wed the dame 
Though mrgely proved, and by himself profess'd, 
I mean, not till possessed of her he loved. 
And old, uncharming Catherine was removed. 
For sundry years before he did ocnnplain. 
And told his ghostly confessor his pain. 
With the same impudence, without a ground^ 
They say, that, look the reformation rounds 
No treatise of humility is found.f 
But if none were, the gospel does not want ; 
Our Saviour preach'd it, and I hope you grant, ^ 
The sermon on the mount was protestant.— <- J 

No doubt, replied the Hind, as sure as all 
The writings of Saint Peter and Saint Paul ; 
On that decision let it stand, or falL 
Now for my converts, who, you say, unfed. 
Have followed me for miracles of bread. 
Judge not by hearsay, but observe at least. 
If sincetheirchange their loaves have been increased. 
The Lion buys no converts ; if he did, 
Beasts ^ould be sold as fast as he could bid. 
Tax those of interest, who conform for gain. 
Or stay the market of another reign : 
Your broad- way sons ^ would never be too nice 
To close with Calvin, if he paid their price ; 
But, raised three steeples higher would change their 

And quit the cassock for the canting-coat. 

♦ Note VII, 

f This is our author's own averment in his ^' Defence of the 
Papers of the Duchess of York." See Note VIII. 

I The latitudinarian^ or moderate clergy aboye»menti<med> 
and particularly Stillingfleet 



NoWy if you damn this censure, as too bold. 
Judge by yourselves, and think not others sold. 

Meantime, my sons accused, by fame's report. 
Pay small attendance at the Lion's <x)ui:tv^ 
Nor rise with early crowds, nor flatter late ; 
For silently they beg, who daily wait. 
Preferment is bestow'd, that comes unsought ; 
Attendance is a bribe, and then tis bought. 
How they should speedy their fortune is unlri^ ; 
For not to ask, is not to be denied* 
For what they have, their God and king they Uess, 
And hope they should not murmur, had they less. 
But if reduced subsistence to implore. 
In common prudence they would pass your door ; 
Unpitied Hudibras, your champion friend,* 
Has shewn how far your charities extend. 
This lasting verse shall on his tomb be read^ 
*.^He shamed you living, and upbraids you dead.** 

With odious atheist names you load your foes ; 
Your liberal clergy why did I expose ? 
It never fidls in charities like those.f 
In climes where true religion is profess'd,. 
That imputation were no laughing jest ; 
But imprmaturf with a chaplain's name. 
If h^re sufficient licence to defame.^ 
What wonder is't that black detraction thrives ? 
ifhe homicide of names is less than lives ; 
And yet the perjured murderer survives.^— 

This said, sue paused a little, and suppressed 
The boiling indignation of her breast. 

• Note IX. t Note X. 

% SttUidgfleet^s Vindication, which contains the imputations 
complained of by Dryden^ bears this licence : '^ Impritnaieur^ 
Henricoa Maurice Rxno, P. D. Wilhelmo Archiep. Cant, a sacris. 
January 10, 1686" 


She knew the virtue of her blade^ nor would 
Pollute her satire with ignoble blood ; 
Her pantinff foe she saw before her eye, 
And back she drew the shining weapon dry. 
So when the generous Lion has in sight 
His equal match, he rouses for the fight ; 
But wnen his foe lies prostrate on the plain^ 
He sheaths his paws, unciu'ls his angry inane» 
And, pleased with bloodless honours of the day. 
Walks over, and disdains the inglorious prey. 
So James, (i£ great with less we may oompure^) 
Arrests his roUing thunder-bolts in air ; 
And grants ungrateful friends a lengthened spac^ 
To implore the remnants of long-sunering grace. 

This breathing-time the matron took ; and then 
Resumed the thread of her discourse again.*^ 
Be vengeance wholly left to powers divine, 
And let heaven judge betwixt your sons and tniw fy 
If joys hereafter must be purchiased here 
With loss of all that mortals hold so dear. 
Then welcome infamy and public shame. 
And last, a long farewell to worldly fame 1* 
'Tis said with ease ; but, oh, how hardly tried 1 
By haughty souls to human honour tied ! v 

O, sharp convulsive pangs of agonizing pride ! j 
Down then, thou rebel, never more to rise ! v 
And what ibon didst, and dost, so dearly prize, \ 
That fame, that darling fame, make that my sa^ j 
crifice. ^ 

'Tis nothing thou hast given ; then add thy tears 
For a long race of unrepenting years. 

* In these^ and in the following beautiful lines, the poet, who 
had complained of Stillingfleet's having diarged him withatheisni, 
expresses his resolution to submit to this reproach with Christian 
meekness, and without retaliation. 


'Tis nothing yet, yet all thou hast to give. 
Then add those may-be years thou hast to live. 
Yet nothing still ; then poor and naked come. 
Thy father will receive his unthrift home» 
And thy Uest Saviour's blood discharge themighty 

Thus, she pursued, I discipline a son. 
Whose unchecked fury to revenge would run ; 
He champs the bit, impatient of his loss. 
And starts aside, and flounders at the cross. 
Instruct him better, gracious God, to know. 
As thine is vengeance, so forgiveness too ; 
That, suffering from ill tongues, he bears no more 
Than what his sovereign bears, and what his Sa- 
viour bore. 

It now remains for you to school your child,* 
And ask why God's anointed he reviled ; 
A king and princess dead ! did Shimei worse ? 
The curser's punishment should flight the curse ; 
Your son was wam'd, and wisely gave it o'er. 
But he, who counsell'd him, has paid the score ;f 
The heavy malice could no higher tend. 
But woe to him on whom the weights descend. 
So to permitted ills the demon flies ; 
His rage is aim'd at him who rules the skies. 
Constrain'd to quit his cause, no succour found. 
The foe discharges every tier around. 
In douds of smoke abandoning the flght. 
But his own thundering peals proclaim his flight. 

In Henry^s change his charge as ill succeeds ; 
To that long story little answer needs ; 
Confix)nt but Henry*s words with Henry's deeds. 

* Stillingfleet. See Note XI. 
t Note XI I. 


Were space allow'd, with ease it might be proved, 
What springs his blessed reformation moved. 
The dire effects appear'd in open sight, 
Which from the cause he calls a distant fliffht. 
And yet no larger leap than from the sun to Ught 

Now last your sons a double pcean sounds 
A treatise of humility is found. 
'Tis found, but better it had ne'er been sought. 
Than thus in Protestant procession brought. 
The famed original through Spain is known^ 
Rodriguez' work, my celebrated son. 
Which yours, by ill translating, made his own ;* 
Conceal'd its author, and usurp'd the name^ . 
The basest and - ignoblest thefi of fame. 
My altars kindled first that living coal ; 
Restore, or practise better what you stole ; 
That virtue could this humble verse inspire^ 
'Tis all the restitution I require.— 

Glad was the Panther that the charge was dosed. 
And none of all her favourite sons exposed ; 
For laws of arms permit each mjured man. 
To make himself a saver where he can. 
Perhaps the plunder'd merchant cannot tell 
The names of pirates in whose hands he fell ; 
But at the den of thieves he justly flies. 
And every Algerine is lawful prize ; 
No private person in the foe's estate 
Can plead exemption from the public fate. 
Yet Christian laws allow not such redress ; 
Then let the greater supersede the less. 
But let the abettors of the Panther's crime 
Learn to make fairer wars another time. 
Some characters may sure be found to write 
Among her sons ; for 'tis no common sights 
A spotted dam, and all her offspring white. 

* See Introduction, p. 114; also Note VIII. 


The savage, thou&h she saw her plea controurd. 
Yet would not whoHy seem to quit her hold. 
But offered fairly to compound the strife. 
And judge conversion by the convert's life. 
Tis true, she said, I think it somewhat strange. 
So few should follow profitable change ; 
For present joys are more to flesh and blood, 
^Than a dull prospect of a distant good. 
Twas well aUuded by a son of mine, 
(I hope to quote him is not to purloin^) 
Two magnets, heaven and earth, allure to bliss ; 
The, larger loadstone that, the nearer this : 
The weak attraction of the greater fails ; 
We nod a while, but neighbourhood prevails ; 
But when the greater proves the nearer too, 
I wonder more your converts come so slow. 
Methinks in those who firm with me remain. 
It shews a nobler principle than gain. — 

Your inference would be strong, theHind replied. 
If yours were in efiect the suffering side ; 
Your clergy's sons their own in peace possess. 
Nor are their prospects in reversion less. 
My proselytes are struck with awful dreads 
Your bloody comet-laws hang blazing o'er their head ; 
The' respite they enjoy but only lent, 
Thebest they have to hope, protracted punishment.* 
Be judge yourself, if interest may prevail. 
Which motives, yours or mine, will turn the scale. 
While pride and pomp allure, and plenteous ease. 
That is, till man's predominant passions cease. 
Admire no longer at my slow increase. 

. * The penal laws, though suspended by the King^s Dedara* 
tioa of Indulgence, were not thereby abrogated. 

V0L.3L O^ 


, By education most have been misled ; 
So tney believe, because they so were bred. 
The priest continues what the nurse began^ 
And thus the child imposes on the man. 
The rest I named before, nor need repeat ; 
But interest is the most prevailing cheat. 
The sly seducer both of age and youth ; 
They study that, and think they study truth. 
When interest fortifies an argument. 
Weak reason serves to gain the will's assent 
For souls, already warp'd, receive an easy bent 
Add long prescription of establish'd laws. 
And pique of honour to maintain a cause^ 
And shame of change, and fear of future ill. 
And zeal, the blind conductor of the will ; 
And chidr, among the still-mistaking crowd, 
The fame of teachers obstinate and proud. 
And, more than all, the private judge allow^ 
Disdain of fathers which the dance began. 
And last, uncertain whose the narrower span. 
The clown unread, and half-read gentleman.^ 

To this the Panther, with a scornful smile ; — 
Yet still you travel with unwearied toil. 
And range around the realm without controul, ) 
Among my sons for proselytes to prowl ; I 

And here and there you snap some silly soul, j 
You hinted fears of future change in state ; 
Pray heaven you did not prophesy your fete ! 
Perhaps, you think your time of triumph near. 
But may mistake the season of the year ; 
The Swallow's fortune gives you cause to fear. 

For charity, replied the matron, tell 
What sad mischance those pretty birds befel.— 

Nay, no mischance, the savage dame replied, 
But want of wit in their unernng guide. 
And eager haste, and gaudy hopes, and giddy pridi 

* Note XII. 


Yet, wishing timely warning may prevail. 
Make you the moral, and I'fi tell the tale. 
* The Swallow, privileged above the rest 
Of all the birds, as man's familiar guest. 
Pursues the sun, in summer brisk and bold. 
But wisely shuns the persecuting cold ; 
Is well to chancels and to chimnies known, 
Though *tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone. 
From hence she has Ibeen held of heavenly line, 
Sndued with particles of soul divine. 
This merry chorister had long possess'd 
Her summer-seat, and feather'd well her nest ; 
Till frowning skies began to change their cheer. 
And time turned up the wrong side of the year ; 
The shading trees began the ground to strow 
With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow. 
Sad auguries of winter thence she drew, 
Which by instinctj or prophecy, she knew ; 
When prudence wam'd her to remove betimes. 
And seek a better heaven, and warmer climes. . 

Her sons were summon'd on a steeple's height. 
And, call'd in common council, vote a flight. 
The day was nam'd, the next that should be fair ; ^ 
All to the general rendezvous repair, f 

They try their fluttering wings^ and trust them- i 
selves in air. ^ ^ 

But whether upward to the moon they go. 
Or dream the winter out in caves below. 
Or hawk at flies elsewhere, concerns us not to 


Southwards you may be sure they bent their flight, 
And harboiu''d in a hollow rock at night ; 
Next morn they rose, and set up every sail ; 
The wind was fair, but blew a mackrel gale ; 


The sickly young sat shivering on the shore^ 
Abhorred siut-water never seen before. 
And pray'd their tender mothers to delay 
The passage, and expect a fairer day. 

With these the Martin readily concurred, 
A church-bigot, and church-believing bird ; 
Of little body, but of lofty mind. 
Round bellied, for a dignity designed, 
And much a dunce, as Martins are by kind ; 
Yet oft;en quoted canon-laws, and code. 
And fathers which he never understood ; 
But little learning needs in noble blood. 
For, sooth to say, the Swallow brought him in. 
Her household chaplain, and her next of kin ; 
In superstition silly to excess. 
And casting schemes by planetary guess ; 
In fine, short-winc'd, unfit himself to fly. 
His fear foretold foul weather in the sky. 
Besides, a Raven fi-om a wither'd oak,* 
Left; of their lodging, was observed to croak. 
That omen liked him not ; so his advice 
Was present safety, bought at any price ; 
A seeming pious care, that cover'd cowardice. 
To strengthen this, he told a boding dream. 
Of rising waters, and a troubled stream. 
Sure signs of anguish, dangers, and distress. 
With something more, not lawful to express ; 
By which he slify seem'd to intimate 
Some secret revelation of their fate. 
For he concluded, once upon a time. 
He found a leaf inscribed with sacred rhyme. 
Whose antique characters did well denote 
The SibyPs hand of the Cumaean grot ; 
The mad divineress had plainly writ, 
A time should come, but many ages yet. 

'^Sinistra cava prcedixU ab ilice Cornix. 


In which, sinister destinies ordain, ^ 

A dame should drown with all her feather'd train, \ 
And seas from thence be called the Chelidonian | 

main.* ^ 

At this, some shook for fear ; the more devout 
Arose, and bless'd themselves from head to foot. 

*Tis true, some stagers of the wiser sort 
Made all these idle wonderments their sport ; 
They said, their only danger was delay. 
And he, who heard what every fool could say. 
Would never fix his thought, but trim his time 

The passage yet was good ; the wind, 'tis true, 
Was somewhat high, but that was nothing new, 
No more than usual equinoxes blew. 
The sun, already from the Scales declined. 
Gave little hopes of better days behind. 
But change from bad to worse, of weather and 

Nor need they fear the dampness of the sky 
Should flag their wings, and hinder them to fly, 
TTwas only water thrown on sails too dry. 
But, least of aU, philosophy presumes 
Of truth in dreams, from melancholy fumes ; 
Perhaps the Martin, housed in holy ground. 
Might think of ghosts, that walk their midnight 

Till grosser atoms, tumbling in the stream 
Of fancy, madly met, and clubb'd into a dream : 
As little weight his vain presages bear. 
Of ill efiect to such alone who fear ; 
Most prophecies are of a piece with these. 
Each rl^ostradamus can foretel with ease : 

* Alluding to the fiible of Icarus : 

Jcarut Icariis nomina fecit aquU*. 

Chelidoniaii^ from xfi^Mf, a swaUow^ 


Not naming persons, and confounding times. 
One casual truth supports a thousand lying rhymes. 

The advice was true ; but fear had seized the most, 
And all good counsel is on cowards lost. 
The question crudely put to shun delay, 
'Twas carried by the major part to stay. 

His point thus gain'd, Sir Martin dated thence 
His power, and fix^m a priest became a prince. 
He order'd all things with a busy care. 
And cells and refectories did prepare. 
And large provisions laid of winter fare ; 
But, now and then, let fall a word or two, ^ 

Of hope, that heaven some miracle might show, V 
And, for their sakes, the sun should backward go, ) 
Against the laws oiF nature upward climb. 
And, mounted on the Ram, renew the prime ; 
For which two proofs in sacred story lay. 
Of Ahaz' dial, and of Joshua's day. 
In expectation of such times as these, 
A chapel housed them, truly called of ease ; 
For Martin much devotion did not ask ; 
They pray'd sometimes, and that was all their task. 

It happen'd, as beyond the reach of wit 
Blind prophecies may have a lucky hit. 
That this accomplish'd, or at least in part. 
Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art. 
Some Swifts,* the giants of the Swallow kind. 
Large limb'd, stout-hearted, but of stupid mindj 
(For Swisses, or for Gibeonites design'd,) 
These lubbers, peeping through a broken pane. 
To suck fresh air, survey'd the neighbouring plain, 
And saw, but scarcely could believe their eyes. 
New blossoms flourish and new flowers arise ; 
As God had been abroad, and, walking there. 
Had left his footsteps, and reform'd the year. 

* Otherwise called martlets* Drybbn. 


The sunny hillsk from far were seen to glow -^ 
^With glittering beams, and in the meads below L 
The burnish'd brooks appear'd with liquid gold f 

to flow. 
At last they heard the foolish Cuckow sing, 
Whose note proclaimed the holiday of spring. 

No longer doubting, all prepare to fly, 
And repossess their patrimonial sky. 
The priest before them did his wings display ; 
And that good omens might attend their way 
As luck would have it, *twas St Martin's day 

Who but the Swallow now triumphs alone ? 
The canopy of heaven is all her own ; 
Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair. 
And glide along in glades, and skim in air. 
And dip for insects in the purling streams. 
And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings. 
Their mothers think a fair provision made. 
That every son can live upon his trade. 
And, now the careful charge is off their hands. 
Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands. 
The youthful widow longs to be supplied ; 
But first the lover is by lawyers tied. 
To settle jointure-chimnies on the bride. 
So thick they couple in so short a space. 
That Martin's marriage-offerings rise apace. 
Their ancient houses, running to decay. 
Are furbish'd up, and cemented with clay. 
They teem already ; store of eggs are laid, 
Ana brooding mothers call Lucina's aid. 
Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear, ^ 
In flocks, to greet the new returning year, >- 

To bless the founder, and partake the cheer. j 

And now 'twas time, so fast their numbers rise. 
To plant abroad and people colonies. 
The youth drawn forth, as Martin had (Jesired, 
(For so their cruel destiny required,) 


Were sent far off on an ill-fated day ; 

The rest would needs conduct them on their way. 

And Martin went, because he fear'd alone to stay. 

So long they flew with inconsiderate haste^ 
That now their afternoon began to waste ; 
And, what was ominous, that very mom 
The sun was enter'd into Capricorn ; 
Which, by their bad astronomer's account. 
That week the Virgin balance should remount. 
An infant moon ecUpsed him in his way^ 
And hid the small remainders of his day. 
The crowd, amazed, pursued no certain mark. 
But birds met birds, and jostled in the dark.* 
Few ^ind the public, in a panic fright. 
And fear increased the horror of the night. 
Night came, but unattended with repose ; 
Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to dose ; 
Alone, and black she came ; no friendly stars arose. 

What should they do, beset with dangers round,! 
No neighbouring dorp,f no lodging to be found, > 
But bleaky plains, and bare, unhospitable ground ? J 
The latter brood, who just began to fly, 
Sick-feather'd, and unpractised in the sky. 
For succour to their helpless mother call : 
She spread her wings; some few beneath them 

crawl ; 
She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all. 
To augment their woes, the winds began to move, 
Debate in air for empty fields above. 
Till Boreas got the skies, and pour'd amain 
His rattling hailstones, mix'd with snow and rain. 

The joyless morning late arose, and found ") 
A dreadful desolation reign around, >- 

Someburied in the snow ; some frozento the ground.) 

• A parody on Lee's fiunous rant in *' CEdipus." , 

'^ May there ZK)t be a glimpse, one starry spark, 
But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark.*' 

t An old Saxon word for a village. 


The rest were straggling still with death, and lay 
The Crows and Ravens rights, an undefended prey ; 
Excepting Martin's race ; for they and he 
Had gain'd the shelter of a hollow tree ; 
But, soon discovered by a sturdy clown. 
He headed all the rabble of a town, 
And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down, 
Martin himself was caught alive, and tried ^ 

For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide v 
No Martin there in winter shall abide. ) 

High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear; 
He breathed his last, exposed to open air ; 
And there his corpse unbless'd is hanging still. 
To shew the change of winds with his prophetic 
'the patience of the Hind did almost fail. 
For well she mark'd the malice of the tale ; 
Which ribald art their church to Luther owes ; ^ 
In malice it began, by malice grows ; r 

He sow'd the serpent's teeth, an iron harvest rose. 3 
But most in Martin's character and fate. 
She saw her slander'd sons, the Panther's hate. 
The people's rage, the persecuting state : 
Then said, I take the advice in friendly part ; 
You clear your conscience, or at least your heart. 
Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill. 
For swallows are unlucky birds to kill : 
As for my sons, the family is bless'd, 
Whose every child is equal to the rest ; 
No church reform'd can boast a blameless line. 
Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine ; 

* It is a vulgar idea, that a dead swallow, suspended in the 
air, intimates a change of wind, by turning its bill to the point 
from which it is to blow; 

t Note XIV, 


Or else an old fenatic author lies, 
Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries.* 
But through your parable I plainly see 
The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity ; 
The sunshine, that offends the purblind sight. 
Had some their wishes, it would soon be nightf 
Mistake me not ; the charge concerns not you ; 
Your sons are malecontents, but yet are true. 
As far as non-resistance makes them so ; 
But that's a word of neutral sense you know, 
A passive term, which no relief will bring. 
But trims betwixt a rebel and a king.— 
Rest well assured, the Pardelis replied. 
My sons would all support the regal side. 
Though heaven forbid the cause by battle should 

be tried. — 
The matron answer'd with a loud Amen, 
And thus pursued her arguments again :— - 
If, as you say, and as I hope no less. 
Your sons will practise what yourselves profess 
What angry power prevents our present peace 
The Lion, studious of our common good. 
Desires (and king's desires are ill withstood) 
To join our nations in a lasting love ; 
The bars betwixt are easy to remove. 
For sanguinary laws were never made above4 

* Century White. See Note XV. 

t The Hind intimates^ that, as the sunshine of Catholic pros-> 
perity, in the fable, depended upon the king's life, there existed 
those among her enemies, who would fain have it shortened. But 
from this insinuation she exempts the church of England, and 
only expresses her fears, that her passive principles would in- 
cline her to neutrality. 

t Note XVI. 


If you condemn that prince of tyranny, 
Whose mandate forced your Gallic friends to fly,* 
Make not a worse example of your own. 
Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown, 
And let the guiltless person rarow the stone. 
His blunted sword your suflering .brotherhood 
Have seldom felt ; he stops it short of I^kkI : 
But you have ground the jmr^cuting knife, 
And set it to a razor-edge on life. 
Cursed be the wit, which cruelty refines. 
Or to his father's rod the scorpion joins ! • 
Your finger is more gross than the great monarch's 


But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note. 
And stick it on the first reformer's coat. 
Oh, let their crime in long oblivion sleep ; 
'Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep ! 
Unjust, or just, is all the question now ; 
Tis plain, that, not repealing, you allow. 

To name the Test would put you in a rage ; 
You charge not that on any former age. 
But smile to think how innocent you stand, 
Arm'd by a weapon put into your hand. 
Yet still remember, that you wield a sword. 
Forged by your foes against your sovereign lord ; 
Design'd to hew the imperial cedar down. 
Defraud succession, and disheir the crown.f 
To abhor the makers, and their laws approve. 
Is to hate traitors, and the treason love. 

* Louis XIV. whose revocation of the Edict of Nantes has 
been so frequently alluded to. As that monarch did not pro« 
ceed to the extremity of capital punishment against the Hugue-* 
nots, Dryden contends his edicts were more merciful than the 
penal laws, by which mass-priests are denounced as guilty of high 

t Note XVII. 


What means it else, which now your children say, 
We made it not, nor will we take away ? 

Suppose some great oppressor had, by slight 
Of law, disseised your brother of his right. 
Your common sire surrendering in a fright ; 
Would you to that unrighteous title stand. 
Left by the villain's will to heir the land ? 
More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold ; 
The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold, 
Nor hang in peace, before he rendered back the 


What more could you have done, than now you do. 
Had Oates and Bedlow and their plot been true ? 
Some specious reasons for those wrongs were 

found ; 
The dire magicians threw their mists around, 
And wise men walk'd as on enchanted ground. 
But now when time has made the imposture plain, 
(Late though he folio w'd truth, and limping held] 

her train,) 
What new delusion charms your cheated eyes' 

again ? 

The painted harlot might a while bewitch, 
Butwhy thehag uncased, and all obscene with itch?* 

The first reformers were a modest race ; 
Our peers possess'd in peace their native place. 
And when rebellious arms o'erturn'd the state. 
They suffer'd only in the common fate ; 

* The poet alludes to the enchantress Duessa, who, when dis- 
robed by Prince Arthur, was changed from a beautiful woman 

A loathly wrinkled hag, ill-favour'd, old. 

Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told* 

Spenser's Fairy Queens Book 1. Canto a 


But now the sovereign mounts the regal chair, 
And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare.* 
Your answer is, they were not dispossest ; 
They need but rub their metal on the Test 
To prove their ore ; — ^^twere well if gold alone 
Were touched and tried on your discerning stone ; 
But that unfaithful test unsound will pass 
The dross of Atheists, and sectarian brass ; 
As if the experiment were made to hold 
For base production, and reject the gold. 
Thus men ungodded may to places rise. 
And sects may be preferr'd without disguise ; 
Ho danger to the church or state from these. 
The Papist only has his writ of ease. 
!No gainful office gives him the pretence 
To grind the subject, or defraud the prince. 
Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve 
To thrive, but ours alone is privileged to starve. 
Still thank yourselves, you cry ; your noble race 
We banish not, but they forsake the place ; 
Our doors are open : — true, but ere they come. 
You toss your 'censing test, and fume the room ; 
As if 'twere Toby's rival to expel. 
And fright the fiend who could not bear the smelLf 

To this the Panther sharply had replied. 
But having gain'd a verdict on her side. 
She wisely gave the loser leave to chide ; 

♦ Note XVIII. 

f The fiend in the Book <ff Tobit^ who haunted Raguel's daugh- 
ter, is firi^hted away, by Aunigation, by Tobias her bridegroom. 
Thus, Milton : 

Better pleased 

Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume* 
That drove him, though enamour*d, from the spouse 
Of Tobit*8 son, and with a vengeance sent 
From Media post to Egypt, thore fiist bound. 

Par. Loit, Book IV. 



Well satisfied to have the but andpeace,^ 

And for the plaintiff *s cause she cared tlie less. 

Because she sued in forma pauperis ; 

Yet thought it decent something should be said, 

For secret guilt by silence is betray*d ; 

So neither granted all, nor much denied. 

But answer'd with a yawning kind of pride : 

Methinks such terms of profier'd peace you bring, 
As once JLneas to the Italian king :f 
By long possession all the land is mine ; 
You strangers come with your intruding 
To share my sceptre, which you call to " 
You plead fike him an ancient pedigree. 
And claim a peaceful seat by fate's decree. 
In ready pomp your sacrificer stands, 
To unite the Trojan and the Latin bands ; 
And, that the league more firmly may be tied. 
Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride. ^ 
Thus plausibly you veil the intended wrong. 
But still you bring your exiled gods along ; 
And will endeavour, in succeeding space. 
Those household puppets on our hearths to place. 
Perhaps some barbarous laws have been preferred ; 
I spake against the Test, but was not heard. 
These to rescind, and peerage to restore. 
My gracious sovereign would my vote 
I owe him much, but owe my conscience 

Conscience is then your plea, replied the dame, 
Which, w.ell-informed, will ever be the same. 
But yours is much of the camelion hue. 
To change the dye with e^iy distant view. 


e, ) 

implore ; >• 
5 more. — j 

* A proverbial expression, taken from our author^s alteration 
of the *' Tempest." See Vol. III. p. 176. 

t iEneid, lib. vii. 1. 213. 


When first the Lion sat witib awfiil sway. 
Your conscience taught your duty to obey : * 
He might have had your statutes and your Test ; 
No conscience but of subjects was profess'd. 
He found your temper, and no farther tried. 
But on that broken reed, your church, relied. 
In vain the sects essay'd their utmost art, 
With offered treasure to espouse their part ; 
There treasures were a bribe too mean to move 

his heart. 

But when, by long experience, you had proved. 
How far he could forgive, how well he loved ; 
(A goodness that excell'd his godlike race. 
And only short of heaven's unbounded grace ; 
A flood of mercy that o'erflow'd our isle. 
Calm in the rise, and fruitful as the Nile,) 
Forgetting whence your Egypt was supplied. 
You thought y6ur sovereign bound to send the tide; 
Nor upward look'd on that immortal spring. 
But vainly deem'd, he durst not be a king. 
Then Conscience, unrestrained by fear, began • 
To stretch her limits, and extend the span ; 
Did his indulgence as her gift dispose. 
And made a wise alliance with her foes.f 
Can Conscience own the associating name. 
And raise no blushes to conceal her shame ? 
For sure she has been thought a bashful dame. 

♦ Note XIX. 

t Two pamphlets were published^ urging the necessity of an 
alliance between the Church of England and the Dissenters; 
and warmly exhorting the latter not to be cajoled to serve the 
purposes of their joint enemies of Rome^ by the pretended tole- 
ration which was held out as a snare to them. One of these, call- 
ed '^ Reflecti<)ns on the Declaration of Indulgence/* is ascribed 
to Burnet ; the other, called ^* Advice to Dissenters/' is supposed 
to come fh)m the masterly pen df Hali&x. 


But if the cause by battle should be tried^ 
You grant she must espouse the regal side ; 
O, Proteus conscience, never to be tied ! 
What Phoebus from the Tripod shall disclose. 
Which are, in last resort, your friends or foes ? 
Homer, who leam'd the language of the sky. 
The seeming Gk)rdian knot would soon untie ; 
Immortal powers the term of Conscience know,* 
But Interest is her name with men beloiv. — 
Conscience or Interest be't, or both in one, 
(The Panther answer'd in a surly tone ;) 
The first commands me to maintain the crown. 
The last forbids to throw my barriers down. 
Our penal laws no sons of yours admit. 
Our Test excludes your tribe fix)m benefit. 
These are my banks your ocean to withstand. 
Which, proudly rising, overlooks the land. 
And, once let in, with unresisting sway. 
Would sweep the pastors and their flocks away. 
Think not my judgment leads me to comply 
With laws unjust, but hard necessity : 
Imperious need, which cannot be withstood. 
Makes ill authentic, for a greater good. 
Possess your soul with patience, and attend ; 
A more auspicious planet may ascend ;f 
Good fortune may present some happier tinie. 
With means to cancel my unwilling crime ; 
(Unwilling, witness all ye powers above !) 
To mend my errors, and redeem your love : 
That little space you safely may allow ; 
Your all-dispensing power protects you now.ij: 

t Note XX. 

X The power claimed^ and liberally exercised^ by the kuig, of 
dispensing with the penal statutes. 


Hold^ said the Hind, ^tis needless to ex|^D ; 
You would postpone me to another reign ; 
Till when, you are content to be unjust : 
Your part is to possess, and mine to trust; 
A fair exchange proposed^ of future chance 
For present profit and inheritance. 
Few words will serve to finish our dispute ; 
Who will not now repeal, would persecute. 
To ripen green revenge your hopes attend. 
Wishing that happier planet would ascend.* 
For shame, let Conscience be your plea no more ; 
To will hereafter, proves she might before ; 
But she's a bawd to gain, and holds the door. 

Your care about your banks infers a fear f 
Of threatening floods and inundations near ; 
If so, a just reprise would only be 
Of what the land usurp'd upon the sea ; 
And all your jealousies but serve to show. 
Your ground is, like your neighbour-nation, low. 
To intrench in what you grant unrighteous laws, 
Is to distrust the justice of your cause ; 
And argues, that the true religion lies 
In those weak adversaries you despise. 
Tyrannic force is that which least you fear ; 
The sound is frightful in a Christian's ear : 
Avert it, heaven ! nor let that plague be sent 
To us from the dispeopled continent. 

But piety commands me to refrain ; 
Those prayers are needless in this monarch's reign. 
Behold how he protects your friends oppressed, ^ 
Beceives the banish'd, succours the distress'd ! { >- 
Behold, for you may read an honest open breast. } 

* That is^ wishing the accession of the Prince of Orange^ then 
the presumptive heir of the crown, 
t Note XXI. 
X The refugee Huguenots. See Note XXII. 

VOL. X. P 


He stands in daylight, and disdmns to 
An act, to which by honour he is tied* 
A generous, laudable, and kingly pride. 
Your Test he would repeal, his peers restore ; 
This when he says he means, he means no more. 

Well, said the Panther, I believe him just, .. 
And yet ■ I 

—And yet, 'tis but because you must ; f 

You would be trusted, but you would not trusts— * 
The Hind thus briefly ; and disdain'd to enlarge 
On power of kings, and their superior char^. 
As heaven's trustees before the people's choice ; ) 
Though sure the Panther did not much rejoice > 
To hear those echoes given of her once loyal voice^ ) 

The matron wooed her kindness to the last. 
But could not win ; her hour of grace was past 
Whom', thus persisting, when she could not bring 
To leave the Wolf, and to believe her kiiig. 
She gave her up, and fairly wished her joy 
Of her late treaty with her new ally. 
Which well she hoped would more successful prove, 
Than was the Pigeon's and the Buzzard's love. ' 
The Panther asked, what concord there could be 
Betwixt two kinds whose natures disagree ? 
The dame replied : 'Tis sung in every street. 
The common chat of gossips when they meet ; 
But, since unheard by you, 'tis worth your while 
To take a wholesome tale, though told in homely 

A plain good man, whose name is understood,* 
(So few deserve the name of plain and good,) 
Of three fair lineal lordships stood possess'd. 
And lived, as reason was, upon the best. 

* James II. See Note XXI II. 


Iimred to hardships from his early youth, 
Much had he done and suffered ror his truth : 
At land and sea, in many a doubtful fight. 
Was never known a more adventurous knightj 
Who oftener drew his sword, and always for 

As fortiltie would, (his fortune came, though late,) 
He took possession of his just estate ; 
^CM" rack'd his tenants with increase of rent, 
Nor lived too sparing, nor too largely spent, 
But overlooked his hinds ; their pay was just. 
And ready, for he scorn'd to go on trust : 
Slow to resolve, but in performance quick ; 
So true, that he was awkward at a trick— 
.For little souls on little shifts rely, ^ 

And cowards arts of mean expedients try ; > 

The noble mind will dare do any thing but lie. J 
false friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way. 
But shews of honest bluntness, to betray ; 
That unsuspected plainness he believed ; 
He look'd into himself, and was deceived. 
Some lucky planet sure attends his birth, 
Or heaven would make a miracle on earth ; 
Fot prosperous honesty is seldom seen 
To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win. 
It looks as fate with nature's law would strive, 
To show plain-dealing once an age may thrive ; 
And, when so tough a frame she could not bend, 
Exceeded her commission, to befriend. 

This grateful man, as heaven increased his store. 
Gave God again, and daily fed his poor. 
His house with all convenience was purvey M ; 
The rest he found, but raised the fabric where be 
pray 'd ; * 

* The Catholic chapel in Whitehall. 


And in that sacred place his beauteous wife 
Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life. 

Nor did their alins extend to those alone^ 
Whom common faith more strictly made their own ; 
A sort of Doves * were housed too near their hall, 
Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall. 
Though some, 'tis true, are passively inclined. 
The greater part degenerate from thdr kind ; 
Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed. 
And largely drink, because on salt they feed. 
Small gain from them their bounteous owner 

draws ; 
Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause. 
As corporations privileged by laws. 

That house, which harbour to their kind affords, 
Was built long since, God knows, for better birds ; 
But fluttering there, they nestle near the throne, 
And lodge in habitations not their own. 
By their high crops and corny gizzards known. 
Like Harpies, they could scent a plenteous board, 
Then to be sure they never fail'd their lord : 
The rest was form, and bare attendance paid ; 
They drunk, and eat, and grudgingly obeyed. 
The more they fed, they raven'd still the more; 
They drain'd from Dan, and left Beersheba poor. 
All this they had by law, and none repined ; 
The preference was but due to Levi's kind : 
But when some lay-preferment fell by chance. 
The gourmands made it their inheritance. 
When once possess'd, they never quit their claim, 
For then 'tis sanctified to heaven's high name ; 
And hallow'd thus, they cannot give consent. 
The gift should be profaned by worldly manage- 

♦ The clergy of the church of England, and those of Lopdon 
in particular. See Note XXIV. 


Their flesh was never to the table served. 
Though 'tis not thence inferred the birds werestarved ; 
But that their master did not like the food. 
As rank, and breeding melancholy blood. 
Nor did it with his gracious nature suit, 
E*en though they were not doves, to persecute : 
Yet he refused, (nor could they take offence,) 
Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence. 
Nor consecrated grain their wheat he thought. 
Which, newfrom treading, in theirbills theybrought ; 
But left his hinds each in his private power. 
That those who like the bran might leave the flower. 
He for himself, and not for others, chose. 
Nor would he be imposed on, nor impose ; 
But in their faces his devotion paid, "1 

And sacrifice with solemn rites was made, ^ 

And sacred incense on his altars laid. 3 

". Besides these jolly birds, whose corpse impure 
Repaid their commons with their salt manure. 
Another farm he had behind his house. 
Not overstocked, but barely for his use ; 
Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed. 
And from his pious hands received their bread.* 
Our pamper'd Pigeons, with malignant eyes. 
Beheld these inmates, and their nurseries ; 
Though hard their fare, at evening, and at morn, 
(A cruise of water and an ear of corn,) 
Yet still they grudged that modicum^ and thought 
A sheaf in every single grain was. brought. 
Fain would they filch that little food away. 
While unrestrain'd. those happy gluttons prey ; 
And much they grieved to see so nigh their hall. 
The bird that warn'd St Peter of his fall ;t 

* The Catholic clergy, maintained by King James. 
f The cock is made an emblem of the regular clergy of Rome, 
on account of their nocturnal devotions and matins. 


That he should raise his mitred crest on high. 
And clap his wings, and call his family 
To sacred rites ; and vex the Ethereal powers 
With midnight matins at uncivil hours ; 
Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest. 
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest. 
Beast of a bird, supinely when he might 
Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light ! 
What if his dull forefathers used that cry. 
Could he not let a bad example die ? 
The world was fall'n into an easier way ; 
This age knew better than to fast and pray. 
Good sense in sacred worship would appear. 
So to begin, as they might end the year. 
Such feats in former times had wrought the falls 
Of crowing chanticleers in doister'd walls. 
Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled ; 
And sister Partlet, with her hooded head,* 
Was hooted hence, because she would not pray 


The way to win the restiff world to Gk)d, 
Was to lay by the disciplining rod. 
Unnatural fasts, and foreign fonns of prayer ; 
Rdigion frights us with a mien severe. 
'Tis prudence to reform her into ease. 
And put her in undress, to make her please ; 
A lively faith will bear aloft the mind. 
And leave the luggage of good works behind. 

Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught; 
You need not ask how wondrously they wrought ; 
But sure the common cry was all for these. 
Whose life and precepts both encouraged ease. 
Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail. 
And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail. 

* The Nuns, 


(For vice/ though ii'ontless, and of hardened face^ 
Is daunted at the sight of awful grace,) 
An hideous figure of their foes they drew, 
Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true 
And this grotesque design exposed topublicview. _ 
One would have thought it some Egyptian pieoe,^ 
With gard^i-gods, and barking ddities, r 

More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies, j 
All so perverse a draught, so far unlike. 
It was no libel where it meant to strike. 
Yet still the daubing pleased, and great and small. 
To view the monster, crowded Pigeon-hall. 
There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees. 
Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees ;f 
And by him, a mishapen, ugly race. 
The curse of God was seen on every face J ' 

No Holland emblem could that malice mehd,{: 
But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend. 

The master of the farm, displeased to find 
So much of rancour in so mild a kindj 
Enquired into the cause, and came to know. 
The passive church had struck the foremost blow; 
With groundless fears and jealousies po^sest, 1 
As if this troublesome intruding guest >- 

Would drive the birds of Venus § from their nest. J 
A deed his inborn equity abhorr'd ; 
But interest will not trust, though God should plight 
his word. 

A law, the source of many future harms. 
Had banish'd all the poultry firom the farms ; 

* Note XXy. 

f The worship of hnages^ charged upon the Romish Church 
by Protestants as idolatrous. 

t Note XXVI. J The Doves. 


With loss of life, if any should be found 
To crow or peck on this forbidden grounds 
That bloody statute chiefly was designed 
For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind ;* 
But after-malice did not long forget 
The lay that wore the robe and coronetf 
For them, for their inferiors and allies. 
Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise ; 
By which unrighteously it was decreed, ^ 

That none to trust, or profit, should succeed, / 
Who would not swallow first a poisonous wickedr 
weed ; J 

Or that, to which old Socrates was curst^ if 
Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst. 

The patron,, as in reason, thought it hard 1 
To see this inquisition in his yard, > 

By which the sov'reign was of subjects' usedebarr'd J 
All gentle means he tried, which might withdraw 
The effects of so unnatural a law ; 
But still the ddve-house obstinately stood 
Deaf to their own, and to their neighbours' good ; 
And which was worse, if any worse could be^ 
Repented of their boasted loyalty ; 
Now made the champions of a cruel cause. 
And drunk with fumes of popular applause : 
For those whom God to ruin has designed. 
He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.^ 

New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise. 
Suggested dangers, interposed delays. 

♦ The laws imposing the penalty of high treason on priests 
saying mass in England. 

t The Roman Catholic nobility, excluded from the House of 
Peers by the imposition of the test. 
Quos Jupiter vuUperdere^ prius dementat. 


And emissary Pigeons had in store. 
Such as the Meecan prophet used of yore,* 
To whisper counsels in their patron's ear. 
And veil'd their false advice with zealous fear. 
The master smiled to see them work in vain. 
To wear him out, and make an idle reign. 
He saw, but sufFer'd their protractive arts. 
And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts ; 
But they abused that grace to make allies. 
And fondly closed with former enemies ; 
For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise. 
After a grave consult what course were best. 
One, more mature in folly than the rest. 
Stood up, and told them, with his head aside. 
That desperate cures must be to desperate ills applied. 
And therefore, since their main impending fear ^ 
Was from the increasing race of Chanticleer, 
Some potent bird of prey they ought to find, 
A foe profess'd to him and all his kind : 
Some haggard Hawk, who had her eyry nigh. 
Well pounced to fasten, and well wing'd to fly ; 
One they might trust, their com mon wrongs to wreak. 
The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak. 
Too fierce the Falcon ; but, above the rest. 
The noble Buzzardf ever pleased me best. 
Of small renown, 'tis true ; for, not to lie. 
We call him but a Hawk by courtesy. 
I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm, 
And more, in time of war, has done us harm. 
But all his hate on trivial points depends ; 
Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends. 

^ The foolish &ble of Mahomet accustoming a pigeon to pick 
peas from his ear^ to found his pretensions to inspiration^ is well 

t Gilbert Burnet, D. D. afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. See 
Note XXVII. 


For Pigeons' flesh he seems not much to care ; 
Cramm'd Chickens are a more delicious &re. 
On this high potentate without ddbty^ 
I wish you would confer the sovereign sway ; 
Petition him to accept the government. 
And let a splendid embassy be sent 

This pithy speech prevail'd, and all agreed^ 
Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed. 

Their welcome suit was granted, soon as heard, 
His lodgings fumish'd, and a train prepared. 
With B's upon their breast, appointedfor his guard 
He came, and, crown'd with great solemnity, 
Gk)d save King Buzzard ! was the general ay. 

A portly prince, and goodly to the sight. 
He seem'd a son of Anach for his height. 
Like those whom stature did to crowns prefix, 
Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter ; 
Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's delist, 
A prophet form'd to make a female proselyte ;• 
A theologue more by need than genial bent. 
By breeding sharp, by nature confident. 
Interest in all his actions was discem'd ; 
More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learned ; 
Or forced by fear, or by his profit led. 
Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled ; 
But brought the virtues of his heaven along, 
A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue. 
And yet with all his arts he could not thrive. 
The most unlucky parasite alive ; 
Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent. 
And then himself pursued his compliment ; 
But by reverse of fortune chased away. 
His gifts no longer than their author stay ; 

* NoteXXVlIL 



He shakes the dust i^ainst the ungrateful rac6. 
And leaves the st€3i<£ of ordures in the place. 
Oft has he flatter'd and blasphemed the same ; 
For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name. 
The hero and the tyrant change their style. 
By the same measure that tl^y frown or smile,* 
When well received by hospitable foes. 
The kindness he returns, is to expose ; 
For courtesies, though undeserved and great. 
No gratitude in felon* minds beget ; 
As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat. 
His praise of foes is venomously nice ; 
So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice ;f 
** A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice."t 
Seven sacraments he wisely does disown. 
Because he knows confession stands for one ; 
Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd, 
: And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd. 
But he, uncalled, his patron to controul. 
Divulged the secret whispers of his soul ; 
Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes. 
And oflfer^d to the Moloch of the times.^ 
Prompt to assail, and careless of defence. 
Invulnerable in his impudence. 
He dares the world ; and, eager of a name. 
He thrusts about, and jostles into fame. 
Frontless, and satire-proof, he scowers the streets. 
And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets. || 
So fond of loud report, that, not to miss 
Of being known, (his last and utmost bliss,) 
He rather would be known for what he is. 

Note XXIX. t Note XXX. 

' timeo Danaos el donaferentes, iEneid, II. lib* 

Note XXXI. II Note XXXII. 


Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test,* 
Though half his virtues are not here exprest 
The modesty of fame conceals the rest. 
The spleenful Pigeons never could create 
A prince more proper to revenge their hate 5 
Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save ; : 
A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave : 
For all the grace the landlord had allow'd. 
But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud 
Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the 

They long their fellow-subjects to inthral. 
Their patron's promise into question call,f 
And vainly think he meant to make them lords 
of all. 

False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest. 
As if the Doves were to be dispossest ; 
Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want, 
For now the Pigeons too had leam'd to cant. 
The house of prayer is stock'd with large increase; 
Nor doors, nor windows, can contain the press. 
For birds of every feather fill the abode ; 
E'en atheists out of envy own a God, 
And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come. 
Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome. 
That conscience, which to all their crimes was mute, 
Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute : 
No rigour of the laws to be released. 
And much the less, because it was their Lord's re- 
quest ; 

* Note XXXIII. 

t The promise to maintain the Church of England^ made in 
James's first proclamation after his accession ; and which the 
church party alleged he had now broken. Note XXXIV. 


They thought it great their sovereign to controul. 
And named their pride, nobility of soul. 

'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect. 
Were short of power, their purpose to effect ; 
But with their quills did all the hurt they could. 
And cuflfd the tender Chickens from their food : 
And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir. 
Though naming not the patron, to infer. 
With all respect, he was a gross idolater.* 

But when the imperial owner did espy. 
That thus they turn'd his grace to villainy, 
Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, 
He strove a temper for the extremes to find. 
So to be just, as he might still be kind ; 
Then, all maturely weigh'd, pronounced a doom 
Of sacred strength for every age to come.f 
By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, 
ISo rights infringed, but license to oppress : 
Such power have they as factious lawyers long 
To crowns ascribed, that kings can do no wrong. 
But since his own domestic birds have tried 
The dire effects of their destructive pride. 
He deems that proof a measure to the rest. 
Concluding well within his kingly breast. 
His fowls of nature too unjustly were opprest.J 
He therefore makes all birds of every sect 
Free of his farm, with promise to respect 
Their several kinds alike, and equally protect. 
His gracious edict the same franchise yields 
To all the wild increase of woods and fields. 
And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds : 

♦ See note XXXIII. 

t Declaration of indulgence. Note XXX Vf 

t Note XXXVI. 


To Crows Uie like impartial grace aflK>rds, 

And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds ; 

Secured with ample privilege to feed, . 

Each has his district, and his bounds decreed ; 

Combined in common interest with his own. 

But not to pass the Pigeons' Rubicon. 

Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove ; 
All prophecies accomplished from above. 
For ShUoh comes the 9ceptre to remove. 
Reduced from her imperial high abode. 
Like Dionysius to a private rod,* 
The passive church, that with pretended gnce 
Did her distinctive mark in duty place. 
Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face. 

What after happen^'d is not hard to guess ; 
The small beginnings had a large increase. 
And arts and wealth succeed the secret spoils 

'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late. 
Become the smiths of their own foolish fate :f 
Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour. 
But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power ; 
Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away. 
Dissolving in the silence of decay. | 

The Buzzard, not content with equal place. 
Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race. 
To hide the thinness of their flock from sight, 
And all together make a seeming goodly flight : 
But each have separate interests of their own ; 
Two Czars are one too many for a throne. 

* The tyrant of Syracuse, who, after being dethroned, taught 
a school at Corinth. 

f Quisque stice for tunas fabcr, Sallust. 
t Note XXXVII. 


Nor can the usurper long abstain from food ; 
Already he has tasted Pigeon's blood. 
And may be tempted to his former fare,* 
When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair. 
Bare bentingtimes,andmoulting months may.come. 
When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home ; 
Or rent in schism, (for so their fate decrees,) 
Liike the tumultuous college of the bees. 
They fight their quarrel, by themselves opprest. 
The tyrantsmiles below, and waits the fallingfea^t. — 

Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end. 
Nor would the PanUier blame it, nor commend ; 
But, with affected yawnings at the close, 
Seem'd to require her natural repose ; 
For now the streaky light began to peep. 
And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep. 
The Dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest 
The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest : 
Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait. 
With glorious visions of her future state. 


• Note XXXVIII. 





Note I. 

j§Hd mother Hubbard^ in her homely dress, 
Has sharply blamed a British Lioness; 
That queefi, whose Jeast thejactious rabble keep. 
Exposed obscenely naked^ and asleep, — P. I97. 

The poet^ in the beginning of this canto, anticipates the cen- 
sure of those who might blame him for introducing into his fih 
bles animals not natives of Britain, where the scene was laid. 
He vindicates himself by the example of ^sop and Spenser. 
The latter, in " Mother Hubbard's Tale/' exhibits at length Uie 
various arts by which, in his time, obscure and infiunous charac- 
ters rose to eminence in church and state. This is illustrated by 
the parable of an Ape and a Fox, who insinuate themselves into 
various situations, and play the knaves in all. At length, 

Lo, where they spied, how, in a gloomy glade. 
The Lion, sleeping, lay in secret shade ; 
His crown and sceptre lying him beside. 
And baring doft for heat his dreadful hide. 

The adventurers possess themselves of the royal spoils, with 
which the Ape is arrayed ; who forthwith takes upon himself the 
dignity of the monarch of the beasts, and, by the counsels of the 
Fox, commits every species of oppression, until Jove, incensed at 


the disorders which his tyranny had introduced^ sends Mercury 
to awaken the Lion from his slumber :— 

Ariso ! said Mereurj, thou sluggish beast. 
That hera lies seusdbBs, like the oozpae deoeast ; 
The whilst thy kingtoin from thy head is rent. 
And thy throne royal with dishonour blent 

The Lion rouses himself, hastens to court, and avenges himself 
of the usurpers. — There is no doubt, that, under this allegory, 
Spenser meant to represent the exorbitant power of Lord Bur- 
leigh; and he afterwards complains, that his verse occasioned his 
falling into a '' mighty peer's displeasure." The Lion^ therefore, 
whose negligence was upbraided by Mercury^ was Queen Eliza- 
beth* Dryden calls her, 

The queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep ; 

because the tumultuous pope-burnings of 1680 and 1681 were so- 
lemnized on Queen Elizabeth's night. The poet had probably^ 
since his change of religion, laid aside much of the hereditary 
respect with which most Englishmen regard Queen Bess ; for, in 
the pamphlets of the Romanists, she is branded as '^ a known 
bastardy who raised this prelatic protestancy, called the church 
of England, as a prop to supply the weakness of her title."* 

Spenser's authority is only appealed to by Dryden as justify- 
ing the introduction of lions and other foreign animals into a Bri- 
tiui fable. But I observed in the introduction, that it also fur- 
nishes authority, at least example, for those aberrations from the 
character and attributes of his brute actors^ with which the critics 
taxed Dryden ; for nothing in '' The Hind and the Panther," can 
be more inconsistent with the natural quality of such animals, 
than the circumstance of a lion, or any other creature, going to 
sleep without his skin, on account of the sultry weather. 

Note n. 

You inorv my doctrine, and I need not say 

I will not, but I cannot f disobey • 

On tfdsjirm principie I ever stood; 

He of my sons, who fails to make it good. 

By one rebellious act renounces to my blood.^^V. 202. 

The memorable judgment and decree of the university of Ox-* 
ford^ passed in the Convocation 21st July, 168S, condenins, as he- 
reticaJf all works which teach or infer the lawfidness of resistance 

* A New Teat of the Chuich of EngUnd'a ^altj. 
VOL. X. Q 


to lawful governors^ even when they become tyrants^ or in case 
of persecution for religion, or infringement on the laws of the 
country, or in short, in any case whatever ; and after the various 
authorities for these and other tenets have been given and denouD- 
ced as false, seditious^ heretical, and jnipiou8» the decree concludes 
with the following injunctions :— 

''Lastly^ we command and strictly enjoin all and singular 
readers, tutors* Oatechists, and others, to whom the care and trust 
.of instruction of youth is committed, tliat they diligently instruct 
.and ground their scholars in that roost necessary c&ctrin^^hich 
in a manner is the badge and character of the church of England, 
of submitting to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake, whe* 
ther it be to the king as supreme, or unto governors, as unto tbem 
that are sent by him, for the punishment of evil doersj and fprtbe 
praise of them that do well ; Teaching, that this submission and 
obedience is to be clear, absolute, and without exception of any 
state or order of men." 

Note III. 

Your sons of latitude^ that court your graee^ 1 

J'houoh most resembling you infirm andjace, > 

Are far the worst of your pretended race. j 

And, but J blush your honesty to blot^ 

Pray God you prove thetn lawfully begot I 

For in some Popish libels I have reaai 

The Wolf lias oeen too busy in your ^(/.— P. 202- 

During the latter years of the reign of Charles the Second, tbe 
dissensions of the state- began to creep into the church. By far 
the greater part of the clergy, influenced by the ancient union of 
church and king, were steady in their adherence to the court in- 
terest. But a party began to appear, who were distinguislied 
from their brethren by the name o^ Moderate Divines, which they 
assumed to themselves, and by that of Latitudinarians, which the 
high churchmen conferred upon them. The chief amongst these 
were Tillotson, Stillingfleet, and Burnet, They distinguished them- 
selves by a less violent ardour for the ceremonies, and even the 
government, of the church; for ail those particulars^ in short, by 
which she is distinguished from other Protestant cohgregatioDS. 
Stillingfleet carried these condescensions so far, as to admit in his 
tract, called Irenicum, that, although the original church was set- 
tled in a. constitution of bishops, priests, and deacons, yet as the 
apostles made no positive law upon this subject, it remained free 
to every Christian congregation to alter or to retain that form of 
church government. In conformity with this opinion^ he^ in con- 
junction witl| Tillotson and others, laid a plan for an accommoda- 


Uon with the Presbyteriansy in 1668; and^ in order to this com- 
prehension, he was willing to have made such sacrifices in the 
point of ordination, &c. that the House of Commons took the 
alarm, and passed a vote, prohibiting even the introduction of a 
bill for such a purpose. As, on the one hand, the tenets of the 
moderate clergy approximated those of the Calvinists; so^ on the 
other^ their antipathy and opposition to the church of Rome was 
more deeply rooted^ m proportion to the slighter value which they 
attached to the particulars in which that of England resembled 
her; It flowed naturally from this indulgence to the Dissenters^ 
and detestation of the Romanists, that several of the moderate 
clergy participated deeply in the terrors excited by the Roman 
Catholic plot* and looked with a favourable eye on the bill which 
proposed to exclude the Duke of York from the throne as a pro- 
fessor of that obnoxious religion. Being thus, as it were, an 
opposition party, it cannot be supposed that the low-church di- 
vines united cordially with their high-flying brethren in renoun* 
cing the right of resisting oppression, or in professing passive obe- 
dience to the royal will. They were of opinion, that there was a 
mutual compact between the king and subject, and that acts of 
tyranny^ on the part of the former, absolved the latter from his 
allegiance. This was particularly inculcated by the Reverend Sa- 
muel Johnson (See VoL IX. p. 369,) in *^ Julian the Apostate*" 
and other writings which were condemned by the Oxford decree* 
As the dangers attending the churqh^ from the measures of King 
James^ became more obvious, and the alternative of resistance or 
destruction became an approaching crisis, the low-church party 
acquired numbers and strength from those who thought it better 
at once to hold and assert the lawfulness of opposition to tyranny, 
than to make professions of obedience beyond the power of hu- 
man endurance to make good. 

. This party was of course deeply hated by the Catholics, and 
hence the severity with which they are treated by Dryden, who 
objects to them as the illegitimate offspring of the Panther by the 
Wolf, and traces to their Presbyterian origin their indifference to 
the fasts and ascetic observances of the more rigid high-church- 
men, and their covert disposition to resist regal domination. Their 
adherence to the English communion he ascribes only to the lucre 
of gain, and endeavours, if possible, to draw an odious distinction 
between them and the rest of the church. Stillingfleet, whom this 
motive could not escape, had already complained of Dryden's de- 
signing any particular class of the clergy by a party name. " From 
the common people, we come to church-men, to see how he uses 
them. And he hath soon found out a faction amongst them, whom 
he charges with juggling designs : but romantic heroes must be 
allowed to make armies of a field of thistles, and to encounter 


wbdmillf for giants. He would fiiin be the instniment to divide 
our clergy, and to fill them with suspicions of one another. And 
to this end he talks of men of latitudinarian stamp ; for it goes a 
great way towards the making divisions, to be able to fiisten a 
name of distinction among brethren ; this being to create jealousiei 
of each other. But there is nothing should make them more care- 
ful to avoid such names of distinction, than to observe how resdy 
their common enemies are to make use of them, to create animo- 
sities by them; which hath made this worthy gentleman to start 
this different character of churchmen among us ; as thoagh there 
were any who were not true to the principles of Ihe raorch of 
EnglancC as by law established : If he knows them, he is better 
acquainted with them than the answerer is ; for he professes to 
know none such. But who then are these men of the latitudina- 
nan stamp ? To speak in his own languaffCi they are a sort of e^ 
coteerers, who are for a concedo rather than a iMgo. And now, I 
nope, they are all well explained ; ori in other words of his, they 
are* saith he, for drawing the nonconformists to their party, i. e* 
they are for having no nonconformists. And is this their crime? 
But they would take the h^ulship of the church out of the king'i 
hands : How is that possible ? They would (by his own descrip- 
tion) be glad to see differences lessened, and ail that agree in the 
same doctrine to be one entire body. But this is that which their 
enemies fear, and this politician hath too much discovered ; ftr 
then such a party would be wanting, which might be played upon 
the church of England, or be brought to join with otners against 
it. But how this should touch the king's supremacy, I cannot 
imagine. As for his desiring loyal subjects to consider this mat^ 
ter, I hope they will* and the more for his desiring it ; and assure 
themselves, that they have no cause to apprehend any juggling 
designs of their brethren ; who, I hope, will always shew them- 
selves to be loyal subjects, and dutiful sons of the church of Eng* 
}and"'^Vindicati(m of ike Answer to some late Papers, p. IM. 

Note IV. 

Think youy your new French proselytes are come 
To starve abroad^ because they starved at home f 

Mark with what management their tribes dixidef 

Some stick to you and some to f other side. 

That many churches may for many mouths provide.i-'^F. 20S. 

The Huguenot clergy, who took refuge in England after the re- 
cal of the edict of Nantes, did not all adhere to the same Protestant 
communion. There had been long in London what was called the 
Walloon church, exclusively dedicated to this sort of worship. 


Many conformed to the church of England ; and> having submit- 
ted to new ordination^ some of them obtained benefices ; others 
joined in communion with the Presbyterians^ and dissenters of va- 
rious kinds. Dryden insinuates, that had the church of England 
presented vacancies sufficient for the provision of these foreign dU 
vines, she would probably have had the honour of attracting them 
all within her pale. The reformed clergy of France were fiir 
firom being at any time an united body. '^ It might have been 
expected^ says bumet^ ^^ that those unhappy contests between 
Lutheransi Calvinists, Axminiansy and Anti-Arminians, with some 
minuter disputes that have enflamed Geneva and Switzerland^ 
should have been at least suspended while they had a common 
enemy to deal with^ against whom their whole force united was 
scarce able to stand. But these things were carried on rather 
with more eagerness and sharpness than ever"^^History of his 
Onm Times, Book IV. 

Note V. 

Some sons of mine f mho bear upon their shield 
Three steeples argent^ in a sable fields 
Have sharply tax' d your converts, who, unfed. 
Have foUowd you JOT miracles of bread. — P. 203. 

The three steeples argent obviously alludes to the pluralities en« 
Joyed^ perhaps by Stillingfleet, and certainly by some of the di- 
vines of the established church, who were not on that account 
less eager in opposing the intrusion of the Roman clergy, and 
stigmatising those, who, at this crisis, thought proper to conform 
to the royal faitJb. These converts were neither numerous nor 
respectable ; and, whatever the Hind is pleased to allege in the 
text, posterity cannot but suspect the disinterestedness of their 
motives. Obadiah Walker, and a very few of the university of 
Oxford, embraced the Catholic faith, conforming at the same 
time to the forms of the church of England, as if they wished 
to fulfil the old saying, of having two strings to one bow.— The 
Earls of Perth and Melfortf with one or two other Scottish no- 
bles, took the same step. Of the first, who must otherwise 
have failed in a contest which he had with the Duke of Queens* 
berry, it was wittily said by Halifax, that *^ his faith had made 
him whole." And, in generalf as my countrymen are not usual- 
ly credited by their brethren of England for an extreme disre- 
gard to their own interest, the Scottish converts were supposed 
to be peculiarly attracted to Rome by the miracle of the loaves 

and fishes.* But it may be said for these unfortunate peers, that 
j^ ^^^^^^^^^ 

* Blue-bonnet lords, a namerous store, 
Whoee best example is, theyVe poor ; 


if thej were dazzled by the momentary sun-shine which gleamed 
on the Catholic church, they scorned to desert her in the tempest 
which speedily succeeded. Whereas, we shall do a kindness to 
Lord Sunderland^ if we suppose that he became a convert to Po« 
pery, merely from views of immediate interest, and not with the 
premeditated intention of blinding and betraying the monardi, 
who trusted him. Dryden must be supposedy however, chiefly in- 
terested in the vindication of his own motives for a change of religioai 

Note VI. 

Such who themselves of no religion are. 

Allured rvith gain^for any wiu declare $ 

Bare Ues, tvith bold assertions they can face. 

But dint of argument is out of place ; 

The grim logician puts them in ajnght^ 

*2'is easier far tofourish than toftgni.'-rPn 203. 

Dryden here puts into the mouth of the Panther some of the 
severe language which Stillingfleet had held towards him in the 
ardour of controversy. He had, in direct allusion to our authoTj 
(for he quotes his poetry,) expressed himself thus harshly : — 

<' If I thought there were no such thing in the world as true 
religion, and that tlie priests of all religions are aUke,^ I might 
have been as nimble a convert, and as early a defender of the 
royal papers, as any one of these champions. For why should not 
one who believes no religion declare for any ? But since I do 
verily believe, that not only there is such a thing as true religion, 
but that it is only to be found in the books of the Holy Scripture, 
I have reason to inquire after the best means of understanding 
such books, and thereby, if it may be, to put an end to the con- 
troversies of Christendom."t 

'* But our grim logician proceeds from immediate and original 
to concomitant causes, which he saith were revenge* ambition, and 
covetousness. But the skill of logicians used to lie in proving; 
but this is not our author's talent, for not a word is produced to 
that purpose. If bold sayings, and confident declarations, will 

Merely drawn in by hope of gains, 
And reap their scandal for their pains ; 
Half-stanred at court with expectation. 
Forced to return to their Scotch nation. 
Despised and scornM by every nation* 

T?ie New Converts, 

* This put the heathen priesthood in a flame. 
For priests of all religions are the same. 

Absalom and Aclutophcl^ Part I. 

-f* A Vindication of the Answer to some late Papers. 



do the business^ he is never unprorided ; but if you expect any 
reason from him, he begs your pardon. He finds how ill the 
character of a grim logician suits with his inclinations."* Again, 
'' But if I will not allow his affirmations for proofs, for his part he 
will not act the grim logician ; no, and in truth it becomes him so 
ill, that he doth well to give it over.*'t And in the beginning of 
liis '' Vindication/' alluding to a term used by the defender of the 
Jihigfs papers, Stiliingfleet says, ** But lest I be again thought to 
have a mind to flourish before I offer to pass^vas the champion 
speaks in hia proper language^ I shall apply myself to the matter 
heiore us." j: 

Note VII. / 

Thus our eighth Henry*s marriage they defame i 
Divordnsfrom the church to wed the dame : 
Though Largely proved, and hy himself profess* d^ 
That conscience, conscience would not let him rest. 

For sundry years before he did complain^ 

And told his ghostly confessor his pain.T^F. 2t)4. 

This is a continuation of the allusion to Stillingfleet's " Vindi^ 
cation," who had attempted to place Henry VIII.'s divorce from 
Catherine of Arragon to the account of his majesty's tender conr- 
science. A herculean task I but the readers may take it in the 
words of the Dean of St Paul's :— 

'^ And now this gentleman sets himself to ergoteering ^§ and 
looks and talks like any grim logician, of the causes which pro- 
duced iif and the effects which it produced. ' The schism led the 
way to the Reformation, for breaking the unity of Christ's church, 
which was the foundation of it : but the immediate cause of this, 
which produced the separation of Henry VIH. from the church 
of Romcy was the refusal of the Pope to grant him a divortoe from 

« A Vindication of the Answer to some late Papers, p. 116^ 

'f Ibidemi p. 117.<^-StilliDgfleet plajrs on this expression of the grim logician^ 
in allusion to a passage of out author*8 ** Defence of the Duchess of York's 
Paper ;** Where he says, ** That the kingdom of heavien is noi only for the wise 
and learned,*' and that *' our Savionr^s disciples were but poor fisnermen ; and 
we read but of dne of his apostles who was bred up at the feet of Gamaliel, and 
that poor people have souls to save, as precious in the sight of God as the grim 
Iqgician's.'** Dryden retorts it upon him in the text. 

t A Vindication, &c. p. 1. 

§ Ergoteering was a phrase used by Drydcn in his *' Defence of the Duchess's 
Paper,*' and which StUlingfleet hwps upon throughout his ** Vindication." 


hia fifl8t wife^ and togratUy hki desires in a diapeiUHiUoiifora Bfr^ 
cond marriage/ 

** Ergo f the first cause of the Reformation^ waa Ae aatisljriDg 
an inordinate and brutal passion* But h he suce of thia ? if lie be 
not^ it is a horrible calumny upon our church, upon King Hea^ 
ry the Eighth, and the whole nation, as I shall )prteently sheir. 
No ; he confesses he cannot be sure of it ; for» saith he, no maa 
can carry it so hi^h as the origtiud caiiae with any c eft aiaty . 
And at the same time, he undertakes to demonatnlte.the iniBifr 
diate cause to be Henry the Eighth's inordinate and bnital psi^ 
sion ; and afterwards affirms, as c6nfidently as if tie had deniMf- 
strated it, that our Reformation was erected on the foandatioiii 

of lust, sacrilege, and usurpation : Yet, saith he, the Idng oolr 
knew whether it was conscience or love, or love alone, which 

moved him to sue for a divorce. Then, by his favour, the 
onlv oeuld know what was the immediate cailse of that^ whichbe 
calls the schism. Well I but he offers at som^ probabilities, thst 
lust was the true cause. Is Er^teering come to thia alroidy? 
' But this we may say, if Conscience had any part in it, she liad 
taken a long nap, of almost twenty years together, before she 
awakened.' Doth he think that Conscience doth not take a longer 
nap than this in some men, and yet they pretend to have it trulf 
awakened at last ? What thinks he of late converts ? Cannot tbejr 
be true, because conscience hath slept so long in th'em ? Must we 
conclude in such cases, that some inordinate passion gives con- 
science a jog at last ? ' So that it cannot be denied, he saith^ thst 
an inordinate and brutal passion had a great share at l^ast in tlie 
production of the schism.' How 1 cannot be denied 1 I say from 
his own words it ought to be denied, for he confesses none conld 
know but the king himself; he never pretended that the king con- 
fessed it : How then cannot it be denied ? Yea, how dare any one 
affirm it? Especially when the king himself declared in a solemn * 
assembly, in these words, saith Hall, (as near, saith he, as I could 
carry them away^) speaking of the dissatisfaction of his con- 
science—'' For this only cause, I protest before God, and on the 
word of a prince, I have asked counsel of the greatest clerks in 
Christendom ; and for this cause I have sent for this legat, as s 
man indifferent, only to know the truth, and to settle my con- 
science, and for none other cause, as God can judge." And both 
then and afterwards, he declared, that his scruples begaa upon the 
French ambassador's making a question about the legitimacy of 
the marriage, when the match was proposed between the Duke 
of Orleans and his daughter ; and he affirms, that he moved it 
himself in confession to the Bishop of Lincoln, and appeals to 
him concerning the truth of it in open court"-— Vindication of the 
Answer to some late Papers^ p. 109, 


Note VII. 

They say, that, look the Reformation round. 
No treatise of humility isjound; 
But if none were, the gospel does not want, 
Our Saviour preach'd tt, and I hope you grant. 
The sermon on the mount was Protestant, — P. 204. 


StQlingfleet concludes his " Vindication" with this admoniticHi 
pa Dryden : " I would desire him not to end with such a bare- 
&ced assertion of a thing so well known to be &\ae, viz. that there 
18 not one original treatise written by a Protestant^ which hath 
handled distinctly, and by itself^ that Christian virtue of humility. 
Since within a few years (besides what bath beenprintedformerly) 
such a book has been published in London. But he doth well 
to bring it off with, ' at least that I have seen or heard of;' for such 
books have not lain much in the way of his inquiries. Suppose 
we had not such particular books, we think the Holy Scripture 
gives the best rules and examples of humility of any book in the 
world ; but I am afraid he should look on his case as desperate 
if I send him to the Scripture, since he saith, ' Our divines do 
th4|t as physicians do with their patients whom they think un« 
curable, send them at last to Tunbridge- waters, or to the air of 
Montpellier.' " 

Dryden, in the Introduction, says, that the author of this work 
-was called Buncombe ; but he is charged with inaccuracy by 
Montague, who says his name is Allen. It seems to be admitted, 
that his work is a translation from the Spanish. The real author 
may have been Thomas Allen, rector of Kettering, in Northamp- 
tonshire, and author of The Practice of a Holy L^e," 8vo. 1 710 ; 
in the list of books subjoined to which, I find " The Virtue of 
Humility, recommended to be printed by the late reverend and 
learned Dr Henry Hammond," which perhaps may be the book 
in question. A sort of similarity of sound between Duncombe 
and Hammond may have led to Dryden's mistake. Alonzo 
Rodriguez, of the Order of the Jesuits, wrote a book called 
*' Exercicio de perfection y viriudes Christianas, Sevilla, iGOQ," 
which seems to be the work from which the plagiary was taken. 

Note IX. 

Unpitied Hudibras, your champion Jriend, 
Has shewn how Jar your charities extend; 
This lasting verse shall on his tomb he read, 
" He shamed you living, and upbraids you dead." 

P. 205. 

Our author, in tlie preceding lines, had employed himself in 


repellinc the charge of his having changed his religion for the 
saice of interest. His loaves, he says, had not been increased by 
the change^ nor had his assiduity at court intimated any ckim up- 
on royal favour : and in reference to her neglect of literary ment, 
he charges on the church of England the fate of BuU^, a brother 
poet. Of that truly original genius we only know, that his life 
was spent in dependence, and embittered by disappointment. But 
unless Dryden alludes to some incident now unknown, it is diffi- 
cult to see how the church of England could have rerwarded his 
merit. Undoubtedly she owed much to his forcible satire against 
her lately triumphant rivals, the Presbyterians and Independ- 
ents ; but, unless Butler had been in orders, how could the 
churdi have recompensed his poetical talents ? The author of the 
most witty poem that ever was written had a much more naturat 
and immediate claim upon the munificence of the wittiest king 
and court that ever was in England ; nor was his satire less ser^ 
viceable to royalty than to the established religion. The blame 
of neglecting Butler lay therefore on Charles II. and his gay 
courtiers, who quoted ** Hudibras" incessantly, and left the au- 
thor to struggle with obscurity and indigence. The poet himself 
has, in a fragment called ** Hudibras at Court," set forth both 
the kind reception which Charles gave the poem, and his neglecl 
of the author : 

Now you must know, §ir Hudibras 

With such perfections gifted was. 

And so peculiar in his manner, 

That all that saw him did him honour. 

Among the rest, this prince was one. 

Admired his conversation : 

This prince, whose ready wit and parts 

Conqucr'd both men and women's hearts, 

Was so o*ercome with Knight and Ralph,. 

That he could never claw it off; 

He never eat, nor drank, nor slept 

But Hudibras still near him kept ; 

Nor would he go to church, or sd. 

But Hudibras must with him go; 

Nor yet to visit concubine. 

Or at a city feast to dine. 

But Hudibras must still be there. 

Or all the fat was in the fire. 

Now after all, was it not hard. 

That he should meet with no reward. 

That fitted out this knight and squire. 

This monarch did so much admire ? 

That he should never reimburse 

The man for th* equipage, or horse, 

Is sure a strange ungrateful thing, 

Ib any body— -but a kiug« 


But this good loDg, it seenM, wm taU, 
By fome that were with him too bold* 
If e*er you hope to gain your ends. 
Caress your foes, and trust your friends. 
Such were the doctrines that were taught. 
Tin this^ unthinking king was brought 
To leave his friends to starve and cUe, 
A poor reward for loyalty ! 

Note X. 

WUh odious atheist names you load your foes ; 

Your Uberal clergy why did I expose ? 

It neverJaHs in charities like those, — P. 205. 

Our author here complains of the personal reflections which 
Stillingfleet had cast upon him, particularly in the passage al- 
ready quoted in Note Vll.y where he is expressly charged with 
disbelieving the existence of '^ such a thing as true religion." 
The second and third lines of the triplet are somewhat obscure. 
The meaning seems to be, that Dryden, conscious of having given 
the first ofPencey which we shall presently see was the case, jus-* 
tifies his having done so, from personal abuse being the never- 
failing resort of the liberal clergy. The application of the neuter 
pronoun it, to the liberal clerg^, is probably in imitation of Vir- 
gil's satirical construction, 

Varium et inutaUle semper fcBrmna. 

It happened in this controversy, as in most others, that both 
parties, laying out of consideration the provocation which they 
themselves had given, complained bitterly of the illiberality of 
their antagonists. • Stillingfleet expatiates on the unhandsome 
language contained in Dryden's Defence, and the passages which 
he quotes are those which contain the exposure of the liberal 
clergy mentioned in the text : 

•• Yet as if Ihad been the sole contriver or inventor of all, he 
bestows those civil and obliging epithets upon me, of disingenu'^ 
oussfotd-mouthedy and shuffling ; one of a virulent genius, of spite^ 
Jvl diligence, and irreverence to the royalJamUy ; of subtle calumny^ 
and sly aspersion ; and he adds to these ornaments of speech, that 
I have a cloven Jbot, and my name is Legion ,• and that my An- 
swer is an infamous libel, a scurrilous saucy pamphlet. Is this in- 
deed the spirit of a new convert ? Is this the meekness and temper 
you intend to gain proselytes by, and to convert the nation ? He 
tells us in the beginning, that truth has a language peculiar to it- 
self: I desire to be informed, whether these be any of the charac- 
ters of it ? And how the language of reproach and evil-speaking 


may be distinguished from it ? But zeal in a new convert is a ter- 
rible thing ; for it not only bums^ but rages, like the eruptioniof 
Mount iEtna ; it fills the air with noise and Bonoke^ and throwi 
out such a torrent of liquid fire« that there is no standing befbie 
it. The Answer alone was too mean a sacrifice for such a Hector 
in controversy* AH that standeth in his way must fidll at his &et 
He calls me Legion, that he may be sure to have number enough 
to overcome. But he is a great proficient indeed, if he be su^ 
an exorcist, to cast out a whole legion already. But he hopes it 
may be done without fasting and prayer,"— Fwitforfioii qfHn 
Answer, p. 1. 

Note XL 

// now renmns for y<m to tchodgour chiUf 

And ask why Gotts anointed he reviled / 

A king and princess dead! Did Shimei worst f 

P. 307. 

The Hind having shewn that her influence over Dryden wm 
such as to induce him to submit patiently^ and without vengeance 
to injury and reproach, now calls upon die Panther to exert ber 
authority in turn over Stillingfleet> for his irreverent attack upoa 
the royal papers in favour of the Catholic reliffion. Upon a cire* 
ful perusal of the Answers and Vindication of that great divinei 
it is impossible to find any grounds for the charge of his hsTing 
reviled Ciiarles II. or the Duchess of York ; on the contrary^ their 
names are always mentioned with great respect^ and the contro- 
versy is conducted strictly in conformity with the following b^ 
rited advertisement prefixed to the Answer : 

" If the papers, here answered^ had not been so publicly dis- 
persed through the nation^ a due respect to the name they beir^ 
would have kept the author from publishing any answer to them. 
But because they may now fall into many hands, who^ without 
some assistance, may not readily resolve some difficulties started 
by them, he thought it not unbecoming his duty to God and the 
king, to give a clearer light of the things contained in them. And 
it can be no reflection on^the authority of a princcj for a private 
subject to examine a piece of coin as to its just value, though it 
bears his image and superscription upon it. In matters that con- 
cern faith and salvation, we must prove all things, and hold fast 
that which is good." — Advertisement to Answer to the Royal Pa- 

Dryden, however, like the other Catholics, was pleased to in- 
terpret the impugning and confuting the arguments used by the 
king and duchess, into contempt and disrespect for their persons. 


It was this forced constrnction on which was founded the prose- 
cution of Sharpe and of the Bishop of London before the eccle- 
■iastical commissioner. Sharpe having been defied to a polemi- 
cal contest, by a paper handed into his pulpit, took occasion to 
preach on the arguments contained in it ; and mentioned^ with 
some contempt, persons who could be influenced by such weak 
reasoning. This was interpreted as a reflection on the new con- 
▼erts, and particularly on the king himself; and a mandate was 
issued to the Bishop of London^ commanding that the obnoxious 
preacher should be suspended. The issue of this matter has been 
noticed in the notes on ** Absalom and Achitophel/' VoL IX. p. 302. 

Note XIL 

Tour son was wam*d, and tvisefy gave it o'er y 

Bvt hef who counseWd him, has paid the score. — P. 207* 

Dryden here triumphs in the conquest he nretends to have gain- 
ed over Stillingfleet. In the beginning of the controversy, the 
Dean of St Paul's had spoken dubiously of the authenticity of the 
paper ascribed to the Duchess. In his Vindication, he fully ad- 
mitted that point, and insisted only uj)on the weakness of the rea« 
■ons which sne alleged for her conversion. This Dryden compares 
to a defeated vessel, bearing away under the smoke of her last 

The person whom he states to have counselled Stillingfleet, is 
probably Burnet ; and the score which he paid, is the severe de- 
scription given of him under the character of the Buzzard. Dry- 
den always seems to have viewed the Answer to the Royal Papers 
as the work of more than one hand. In his '^ Defence," he af- 
firms that the answerer's " name is Legion ; but though the body 
be possessed with many evil spirits, it is but one of them that talks." 
In the introduction to ''The Hind and Panther/' he says, he is in- 
formed both of the ''author and supervisors of this pamphlet.'' He 
conjectured, as was probably the truth, that a controversy of such 
importance, and which required to be managed with such pecu- 
liar delicacy» was not entrusted to a single individual. Besides 
Burnet, it is probable that Tillotson, Tennison, and Patrick, all 
of whom mingled in the polemical disputes of that period^ were 
consulted by Stillingfleet on this important occasion. 

Note XIII. 

Perhaps you think your time of triumph near^ 

But may mistake the season of the year; 

The Swallow's fortune gives you cause toJear.'-^F. 210. 

The general application of the fable of the Swallows to the 



sliort gleam of Catholic prosperity during the reign of Jametll. 
18 sufficiently manifest. But it is probable^ that a more dote and 
intimate allusion was intended to an event which took place m 
16S6, when the whole nation was in confusion at the mcaaures of 
King James, so that the alarm had extended even to the Catholics, 
who were the objects of his favour. We are told» there was a ge- 
neral meeting of tlie leading Roman Catholics at the JSavoy, to 
consult how this favourable crisis might be moat improved to the 
advantage of their cause. Father Petre had the chair ; and at 
the very opening of the debates, it appeared, that the majoritj 
were more inclined to provide for their own security, than to 
come to extremities with the Protestants. Notwithstanding the 
Icing's zeal, power, and success, they were afraid to push the ex- 
periment any farther. The people were already alarmed — the 
soldiers could not be depended upon — the very courtiers melted 
out of their grasp. All depended on a single life, which was al- 
ready on the decline ; and if that life should last yet a few yean 
longer, and continue as hitherto devoted to their interest and ser- 
vice, they foresaw innumerable difficulties in their way, and anti- 
cipated disappointments without end. Upon these consideratioDi, 
therefore, some were for a petition to tlie king, that he would 
only so far interpose in their favour, that their estates might be se- 
cured to them by act of parliament, with exception from all em- 
ployments, and liberty to worship God in their own way» in their 
own houses. Others were for obtaining the king's leave to sell 
their estates, and transport themselves and their effects to France. 
All but Father Petre were for a compromise of some sort or 
other ; but he disdained whatever had a tendency to moderation, 
and was for making the most of the voyage while the sea was 
smooth, and the wind prosperous. All these several opinions, 
we are farther told, were laid before the king, who was pleased 
to answer, '' That before their desires were made known to him, 
he had provided a sure retreat and sanctuary for them in Irelandt 
in case all those endeavours which he was making for their secu- 
rity in England should be blasted, and which, as yety gave him 
no reason to despair." * 

It will hardly, I think, be disputed, that the fable of the Swal- 
lows about to cross the seas refers to this consultation of the Ca- 
tholics ; and it is a strong instance of Dryden's prejudice against 
priests of all persuasions, that, in the character of the Martini 
who persuaded the Swallows to postpone the flight, he decidedly 
appears to have designed Petre, the king's confessor and prime ad- 
viser in state matters, both spiritual and temporal. The name of 
Martin may contain an allusion to the parish of St Martin's, in 

* Ralph's History, VoL I. p. 933.— Secret Cousulu, &c of the Roman Pvtj, 
p. 59. 


which Whitehall^ and the royal chapel, are situated. But should 
this be thought fknciful, it is certain* that the portrait of this vain, 
presumptuous, ambitious, bigotted Jesuit, who was in keen pur- 
suit of a cardinal's cap, is exactly that of the Martin : 

A diurch begot, and church believing bird. 
Of little body, but of lofty mind. 
Round-bellied, for a dignity dengn'd. 

Two marked circumstances of resemblance conclude the inu- 
endo,— -his noble birth, and superficial learning : 

But little learning needs in noble blood.* 

It may be doubted, whether the reverend father was highly plea- 
Med with this sarcastic description, or whether he admitted readi- 
ly the apology, that the poet, speaking in the character of the 
heretical church, was obliged to use Protestant colouring. 

The close correspondence of the &ble with the real events may 
be further traced, and admit of yet more minute illustration : 

The Raven, from the withered oak, 
L^ of their lodging,! ■ 

may be conjectured to mean Tennison, within whose parish White- 
ball was situated, and who stood in the front of battle duruig all 
the Roman Catholic controversy. As Petre is the Martin who 
'persuaded the Catholics not to leave the kingdom, his prepara- 
tions for maintainuig their ground there are also noticed : 

He order*d all things with a busy care, 
And cells and refectories did prepare. 
And large provisions laid of winter fare. 

This alludes to the numerous schools and religious establish- 
ments which the Jesuits prepared to establish tliroughout £ng- 
land.t The chapel which* housed them is obviously the royal 

* ** One Pctre, descended from a noble family ; a man of no learning, nor 
any way famed fur his nrtue, but who made up idl in boldness and zeal, was the 
Jesuit of them all, that seemed animated with the most courage." — Burket. 

•f '* We have," says one of the order, ** a good while begun to get footing in 
England. Wtt teacli humanity at Lincoln, Norwich, and York. At Warwick, 
wc have a public chapel sccurol from all injuries by the king's soldiers ; we have 
mlso bought some houses of the city of Wiggom, in the province of Lancaster. 
The Cafiiolic cause very niudi increaseth. in some Catholic churches, upon 
holidays, above 1500 are always numbered present at tlie sermon. At London, 
likewise, tilings succeed no won>c. Every holiday, or preaching, people arc so 
frt'i|Utint, that many of the chapels caonot contain them. Two of our fathers. 


chapel, where the priests were privileged to exercise their func- 
tions even during the subsistence of the penal laws. The tran- 
sient gleam of sunshine which invited the Swallows forth from 
their retirement, is the Declaration of Indulgence, in oomequence 
of which the Catholics assumed the o^n and general exercise of 
their religion. The Irish Catholics^ with the sanguine Talbot at 
dieir head, may be the first who bailed the imaginary return of 
spring ; they are painted as 

——Swifts, the gianti of the Swallow kind. 
Large Umb'd, stout hearted, but of stupid mind. 

I cannot help thinkins^ that our author^ still speaking in the 
character of the Engliw churchy describes himself as the '^ fiN^ 
ish Cuckow,** whose premature annunciation of springs comple- 
ted the SwallowsT delusion. Perhaps he intended to mitigate 
the scornful description of Petre, by talking of himself also ai 
a Protestant would have talked of bun. The foreign priests and 
Catholic officers, whom hopes of promotion now brought into Eng- 
land, are pointed out by the *' foreign fowl," who came in flodu. 

To blesi the founder, and paitake the dieer. 

The fiible concludes in a prophetic strain, by indicating die 
calamities which were likely to overwhelm the Catholics, as soon 
as the death of James, or any similar event, should end their tem« 
porary prosperity. It is well known, how exactly the event cor- 
responded to the prophecy ; even the circumstance of the rabble 
rising upon the Catholic priests was most literally verified. In 
most of the sea-port towns, they watched the coasts to prevent 
their escape ; and when King James was taken at Feversham, the 
fishermen, by whom he was seized, were employed in what they 
called by the cant phrase of " priest-codding," that is, lying in 
wait for the fugitive priests. 

Darmes and Berfall, do constantly say mass before the king and queen. Father 
Edmund Newill, before the queen-dowager, Father Alexander Regnes in the 
chapel of the ambassador aforesaid, others in other places. Many hoiues are 
boi^ht for the college in the Savoy, as they call it, nigh Someraet-house, Londoo, 
the palace of the queen^wager, to the value of about eighteen thouand iBorini; 
in making of which, after the form of a college, they labour very hard, that the 
schools may be opened before Easter." A Letter from a Jesuit at lAeg^ Somen* 
Tracts, p. 248. About this letter, see Burnet's History, Voi I. p. 711. The 
king also granted the manor of York to Lawson, a priest, for thirty years, as a 
seminary for the education of youth in the Catholic fiuth ; to the great displeasore 
of Sir John Reresby, the governor of the dty, who had fitted it up for his own 
readence. See his Memoirs, pp. 245, 246. 


Note XIV. 

But mott in Martin's character and fate. 

She taw her dander* d sons, the Pantlier^s hatct 

The people's rage, the persecuting state — P. 217. 

The conclusion of the fable naturally introduces a discussion 
of the penal laws, which unquestionably were extremely severe 
towards Catholics. By the fourteenth of Queen Elizabeth^ it was 
enacted, that whoever, by bulls of the Pope, should reconcile 
any one to Rome, should, together with the person -reconciledy 
be guilty of high treason ; that those who relieved such reeon- 
ciiers, sho«kl be liable in the penalties oi vl premunire^ and these 
who concealed them in misprision of treason. A still more se- 
vere law passed in the twenty-eighth of the«arae queen, upon dis- 
oevery ot* Parry *« conspiracy against her life, to which he had been 
stirred up by a book of Allen, or Parsons the Jesuit, written for 
Ae express purpose. It was thereby enacted, that all Jesuits and 
Popish priests snould depart the kingdom within forty days ; and 
tfiat those who should afterwards return into the kingdomy should 
be guiity of high treason ; and all who relieved and maintained 
tbem, of felony. There were otlier enactments of a similar na>i 
Iwre made upon the discovery of the gunpowder-plot. Samuel 
Johnson (I mean the divine) gives an odd justification of these 
laws, saying, that the priests are hanged, not as priests, but as 
tnutors. But^ as their being priests was the sole reason for their 
being held traitors, it does not appear^ that the Protestant divine 
pan avail himself of this distinetien« 

Note xy. 

No ehufvh refbrm'd can boast a hlamdess Une, 
Such Martins buUd in yours, and more than mine ; 
Or ebe an old fanatic author lies, 
Wko summ'd their scandals up by centuries* — P. 218. 

The fanatic author is John White» commonly called Century 
White. He was bom in Pembrokeshire in 1590, was educated 
for the bar, and made a considerable figure in his profession. As 
be was a rigid puritan^ he chosen one of the trustees which 
that sect appointed to purchase appropriations to be bestowed 
upon &natic preachers. This design was checked by Archbishop 
I^d ; and WhitCi among others> received a severe censure in the 
Star-Chamber. In the Long Parliament, White was member for 
JSouithwark, and distinguished himself by his vindictive severity 
against the bishops and Episcopal clergy^ saying openly in a com- 
Diittee^ he hoped to live to see the day, when there should be nei- 
VOL. X. It 


ther bishop nor cathedral priest in England. He was very actife 
in the ejectment of the clergy, by which upwards of eight tnousand 
churchmen are said to have lost their cures in the course of four 
or five years. In order to encourage and justify these violent 
measures, he published his famous treatise, entitled* ** The First 
Century of Scandalous Malignant Priests, made and admitted into 
Benefices by the Prelates, London, 1643 ;" a tract which con* 
tainsy as may be inferred from its name, an hundred instances sf 
unworthiness, which had been either proved to have existed amoog 
the clergy of the church of England, or had been invented to throw 
a slander upon them. When this satire was shewn to Charles U 
It was proposed to answer it by a similar exposition of the scsm 
dalous part of the puritanical teachers ; but that noonarch would 
not consent to give countenance to a warfare in which neither 
party could gain^ and religion was sure to be a loser between them. 
Similar considerations are said to have prevented White himsdf 
from publishing ** A Second Century/' in continuation of his 
work. He wrote another tract, entitled, ** The Looking GUiss;" 
in which he attempted to prove, that the sin against the Hohr 
Ghost was the bearing arms for the King in the Civil War. His 
own party bestow on White a high character for religion and viiw 
tue ; but the cavaliers alleged, that although he had two wives of 
his own, a, large proportion of matrimony* he did not forbear to 
visit three belonging to his neighbours in the White Friars, Ho 
died in January IGi^y and is said, in his last illness^ to have bit* 
terly lamented the active share which he had taken in ejecting 
so many guiltless ministers, and their families. This^ howcTer, 
may be a fiction of the royalists ; for the death-bed repentance 
of an enemy is amongst the most common forgeries of party. 
White's body was attended to the grave by most of the memben 
of Parliament, and the following distich inscribed on his tomb: 

**• Here lyeth John, a burning shiniDg Ugbt, 
His name, life, actions, all were Whits.*' 

See Wood's Athence Oxonietueu 

Note XVI. 
The Lion, studious of our common good^ 
Desires (and kinds' desires are ill withstood) 
To join our nations in a lasting love ; 
The bars betwixt are easy to renKyoe, 
For sanguinary laws were never made above. — P. 218. 

When James II. ascended the throne, deceived by the gene- 
ral attachment of the Church of England for his person, and the 
little jealousy which they seemed to entertain of his religion, 
he conceived there would be no great difficulty in procuring 


8 reconciliation between the national Church and that of Rome. 
With this view he made a favourable declaration of his intentions 
to maintain the Church of England as by law established^ and 
certainly expected, that, in return, they would consent to the re« 
peal of the Test Act and penal laws ;* and this, it was conceived, 
night pave the way for uniting the churches. An extraordinary 
parophletf already quoted, recommends such an union, founded 
upon the mutual attachment of both communions to King James, 
upon their success in resisting the Bill of Exclusion, and their 
oommon hatred of the dissenters. *' This very stone, which was 
once rejected by the architects, is now become the chief stone 
in the comer. We may truly see it in the hand of God» and look 
upon it with admiration ; and may expect, if fears and jealousies 
hmder not, the greatest blessings we can wish for. An union be« 
twixt these two walls, which have been thus long separated, and 
now in a fair way to be united and liqked together by this cor« 
ner stone ; afler which, how glorious a structure may we hope 
for on such foundations I'* A plan is therefore laid down, contain- 
ing the following heads^ of which it may be observed, that the 
very first is the abrogation of those penal laws, which Dryden 
slates to be the principal bar between the alliance of the Hind 
and the Panther. 

*^ First, that it may be provided. That those who are known to 
be faitliful friends to the king and kingdom*s good, may equally 
with us enjoy those favours and blessings we may hope for under 
oo great and so just a king, without being liable to the sanguinary 
penal laws, for holding opinions noways inconsistent with loyaU 
ty, and the peace and quiet of the nation ; and that they may 
not be obliged, by oaths and tests, either to renounce their re« 
ligion^ which they know they cannot do without sacrilege, or 
else to put themselves out of capacity of serving their King and 

«' Secondly, That, for healing our differences, it be appointed, 
that neither sidesy in their sermons, touch upon matters of con* 
troversy with animating reflections ; but that those discourses 
may wholly tend to peace and pietjr, religion and sound morali«- 
ty ; and that, in all public catechisms, the solid grounds and 
principles of religion may be solely explicated and established, 
all reflecting animosities oeing laid aside. 

'' Thirdly, That some learned, devout, and sober persons, may 
be made choice of on both sides, who may truly state matters of 
controversy betwixt us ; to the end, each on^ may know other's 
pretensions, and the tenets they cannot abandon, without break- 

• So I8JS the memorable «« Tcit of the Church of England^s Loyalty* 



ing the chain of apostoh'c faith ; which, if it be done, we shafli 
it may be, find that to be true» which the Papists often tell us, 
that the difference betwixt them and us is not so great as maaj 
make it ; nor their tenets so pernicious^ but if we saw them ni* 
ked^ we should, if not embrace them as truths, yet not condemn 
them as errors, much less as pernicious doctrines. Yet if, not* 
withstanding all this, we cannot perfectly a^ree in some points, 
let us, however, endeavour to live together in the bonds of love 
and charity, as becomes good Christians and loyal subjects, and 
join together to oppugn those known maxims, and pernicious er- 
rors, which destroy the essence of religion, loyalty^ and good 
government" — Remonstrance^ by way of Addreu, to the Chvrck 
of England, 1685, 

Note XVII. 

Yei siiil remember, that you wield a srvord^ 
Forced by your foes against your sovereign lord j 
Desigtied to hew the imperial cedar down. 
Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown. — P. 219. 

The Test-act was passed in the year 1678, while the Popish 
Plot was in its vigour, and the Earl of Shaflesburj* was urging 
every point against the Catholics, with his eyes unifbrmly fixed 
upon the Bill of Exclusion as his crowning measure. It imposed 
on all who should sit in parliament, a declaration of their abhov- 
rence of the doctrine of transubstantiation. The Duke of York, 
with tears in his eyes^ moved for a proviso to exempt himself, 
protesting, that he cast himself upon the House in the greatest 
concern he could have in the world ; and that whatever his reli* 

fion might be, it should only be a private thing between God and 
is own soul. Notwithstanding this pathetic appeal, he carried 
bis [loint but by two votes. With seven other peers he protested 
against the bill. Dryden therefore, and probably with great jus- 
tice, represents this test as a part of his machinations against the 
Duke of York, whose party was at that time, and afterwards, 
warmly espoused by the Church of England. But though the 
Test-act was devised by a statesman whom they hated, and car^ 
ried by a party whom they had opposed, the high»church clergy 
were not the less unwilling to part with it, when they found th^ 
advantages which it gave them against the Papists in King James's 
reign. Hence they were loaded with the following reproaches: 
" My business is to set forth, in its own colours, the extraordip 
nary loyalty of those men, who obstinately maintain a test coi^ 
trived by the faction to usher in the Bill of Exclusion : And it 
is much admired, even by some of her own children, that the 
^rave aqd matronrlike Church of JE)ngland, which v^luet) herself 
§Q much for her anti(}uityi should be over-^fond of a new point of 


faith^ lately broached by a famous act of an infallible parliament, 
convened at Westminster, and guided by the holy spirit of Shaft es- 
I bury. But I doubt there are some parliaments in the world which 
''' will not 60 easily admit this new article into their creed, though 
die Church of England labours so much to maintain it as a spe- 
cial evidence of her singular loyalty /^^-^New Test of the Church 
i 1^ England's LoyaUif4 

N%te XVIIl. 

I the first reformers were a modest race ; 

I . Our 'peers possess* d in peace their fiativ^ ptacd, 

And when rebellious arms o'ertum'd the state^ 

They suffer'd only in the common fate ; 

But now the sovereign mounts the regal chair, 

And mitred seats areJuU^ yet David's bench is bare.'^P, 2^1. 

- This passage regards the situation of the Roman Catholic peers^ 
Notwithstanding their relicion, they had been allowed to retain 
their seats and votes in the House of Lords* So jealous were they 
'. (as was but natural,) of this privilege, that> in 16759 when Danby 
t. proposed a test oath upon all holding state employments and be-* 
^* Heficesy the object of ii<rhich was to acknowledge the doctrine of 
non-resistance, and disown all attempts at an alteration of govern- 
liient, the Roman Catholic peers, to the number of twenty^ who 
had hitherto always voted with the crown^ united^ on this occa- 
MOD, with the opposition, and occasioned the loss of the bilL This 
North imputes to the art of Shaftesbury, who dinned into their 
eucB, *^ that this test (by mentioning the maintenance of the Pro« 
testant religion, though that of the royal authority was chiefly 
proposed) tended to deprive them of their right of votings which 
was a birth-right so sacrosanct and radically inherent in the peer-* 
age, as not to be temerated on any account whatsoever/' When 
the Earl had heated the Catholic lords with this suggestion, he 
secured them to the Opposition, by proposing, and carrying 
through, an order of the House, that no bill should be received, 
tending to deprive any of the peerage of their right. But when 
the Test-act of 1678 was moved, which had^ for its direct purposCf 
that exclusion which that of 1675 was supposed only to convey 
by implication, Shaftesbury laughed at the order which he him- 
fldf had proposed, saying, leges gosteriores priores abrogant. And 
hr this test, which required the renunciation of their religion as 
idolatrous, tlie Catholic peerage were effectually, and for ever, 
excluded from their seats in the House of Lords. Dryden inti- 
mates, in the following lines, that this test applied to the Papists 
alone, and complains heavily of this odious distinction, betwixt 
them and other non-conformists. 


Note XIX. 

Whenjirst the Lion sat with awJuL «iM^t 

Your conscience taught your duty to obey,^^P» 28S. 

Jamet II. and the established church set out on ihe higfaat 
terms of good humour with each other. This, as the king after- 
wards assured the dissenters, was owing to the professioiia made 
to him by some of the churchmen^ whom he named, who bad pro- 
mised favour to the Catholics^ proTided he would abandon all idet 
of general toleration, and leave them their ancient authority over 
the fanatics. Moved, as he said, by these promises, the Deda- 
ration in councili issued upon his acc^iony had this remaribUe 
clause : ** I know the principles of the Church of England are for 
monarchy, and the members of it have shewn themselves good and 
loyal subjects, therefore I shall always take care to defend and 
support it." This explicit declaration gave the greatest satisfac- 
tion to the kingdom in general, and particularly to the clergy. 
** All the pulpits of England," says Bumetf *' were full of it, and 
of thanksgivings for it It was magnified as a security fiur greater 
than any that Taws could give. The common phrase wasy Wc 
have now the word of a king, and a word never yet broken. Thii 
general feeling of gratitude led to a set of addresses, full of the 
most extravagant expressions of loyalty and fidelity to so gracioHi 
a sovereign. The churchmen led the way in these expresskmi 
of zeal ; and the university of Oxford, in particular, promised to 
obey the king without limitations or restrictions." The king's 
promise was reckoned so solemn and inviolable, that those ad- 
dresses were censured as guilty at least of ill-breeding, who men- 
tioned in their papers the '< religion established hy law ;" since 
that expression implied an obligation on the king to maintain it, 
independently of his royal grace and favour. But the scene 
speedily changed, as the king's intentions began to disclose them- 
selves. Then, as a Catholic pamphleteer expresses himself, ** Mj 
loyal gentlemen were so far out of the right bias, that, in lieu of 
taking off the tests and penal laws, which all people expected 
from them in point of gratitude and good manners, they made a 
solemn address to his majesty, that none be employed who were 
not capacitated by the said laws and tests to bear offices dfii 
and military."* 

If James had viewed with attention the incidents of the former 
reisn, he might have recollected, that, however devoted the clergy 
had then shown themselves to the crown, his brother's attempt at 
his presentmeasureof a general indulgence hadat once alarmed the 

• New Test, &c 


whole church. This sensibility^ when the interest of the church 
is conoemed, is severely contrasted with the general indifference 
to the cause of freedom, into which they relapsed when the in- 
dulgence was recalled, in a party-pamphlet of the year 1680* I. 
^' You may easily call to mind a late instance of the humanity 
and conscience of this rac^of men here in England : For when 
his majesty^ not long since^ attempted tb follow his own inclina* 
tions^ and emitted a declaration of indulgence to tender con- 
•dences, the whole posse cleri seemed to be raised against him : 
Every reader and Gibeonite of the church could then talk as sau<« 
cily of their king^ as they do now of the late honourable Par-i 
liament ; nay^ they began to stand upon their terms, and deli* 
vered it out as orthodox doctrine, that the king was to act ac« 
eording to law, and, therefore, could not suspend a penal sta<^ 
tute ; that the subjects' obedience was a legal obedience ; and, 
therefore, if the king commanded any thing contrary to law, the 
subject was not bound to obey ; with so many other honest posi- 
tions, that men wondered in God how such knaves should come 
by them. But wherefore was all this wrath, and all this doctrine ? 
snerely because his majesty was pleased for a time to remove the 
•ore backs of dissenters from under the ecclesiastical lash ; the 
Moody exercise of which is never denied to holy church, but the 
magistrate is immediately assaulted with the noise and clamour 
of Demetrius and his craftsmen. 

'^But now, the tables being turned, thesame mercenary tongues 
are again all Sibthorp^ and all Manwaring ; not a bit of law, or 
conscience either, is now to be had for love or money ; not any 
limits to be put to the king's commands^ or our obedience. It 
ifl a gospel truth with these men, that all which we have is the 
Idng*! ; and if he should command our estates^ our wives and 
diimren^ yea* and our religion too, we ought to resign them up, 
anbmitt and be silent." — The Freeholders* Choice^ or» a Letter of 
JMce amceming Elections. 


Note XX. 

Possess your soul with patience^ and attend; 
A more auspicious planet may ascend; 
Chod fortune may present sorne happUr timet 
With means to cancel my untoUling crime^'^^V. 23i4t. 

The first expression in these lines seems to have been a favour- 
ite with Dryden. In the Introduction to the Translation of Juve- 
aal> he makes it his glory, ^' that, beinj^ naturally vindictive, he 
bad suffered in silence, and possessed hts soul in quiet,** 

The arguments used by the Panther in this passage seem to 
bs?e more weight than her antagonist allows them. It was surely 


reasonable^ that the Church of England should rest ufxm her pe- 
nal statues and Test Act, as the sole mode of preventing the en* 
croachments of her rival during a Catholic reign, and, at the same 
time, that she should look forward with pleasure to a future pe- 
riod, when such severe enactments might be no looj^er necessarj 
for her safety ; a time, of which it has been our good Ibrtime to 
witness the arrival. 

The argument of the Panther, in this speech, is, with the simile 
of the inundation, literally versified from an answer to Peno'i 
pamphlet. '' The penal laws cannot prejudice the Papists in this 
king's reign, seeing he can connive at the noo-execution of them^ 
and the repeal of them now cannot benefit the Papists when he ii 
gone ; because, if they do not behave themselves modestly, we 
can either re-establish them, or enact others, whic^ they will be 
as little fond of. But their abrogation at this time would infidliUy 
prejudice us, and would prove to be the pulling up of the sluicei^ 
and the throwing down the dikes, which stem the deluge that ii 
breaking in upon us, and which hinder the threatening waves fiwB 
overflowing us." Some refiectums on m discourse, entitled^ '' Goad 
Advice to the Church of England."— Sto^ Tructs^ VoL I. p. SfiSi 

Note XXI. 

Your care about your banks infers a fear 
Of threatening floods and inundations near ; 
jffsOf a just reprise wotdd only be 
Of what the land usurp* d upon the sea^^^V. 22S. 

This conveys a perilous insinuation, which perhaps it would, at 
the time, have been prudent to suppress ; since it goes the length 
of preparing a justification of the resumption of the power, autho- 
rity, lands, and revenues, of the Church of England, upon the 
footing of their having originally belonged to tl^t of Rome. It 
cannot be supposed that this hint could be passed over at the 
time, without a strong feeling of a meditated revolution in church 
government and property. 

Note XXII. 

Behold how he protects your friends oppressed. 

Receives the banish* d, succours the distress* d ! - 

Beholdi for you may read an honest open breasi.^^F 92S. 

Burnet, in the *' History of his Own Times," gives the follow- 
ing account of the relief which James, either from inclination or 
policy, extended to the French Protestants, who were exUed by 
the recal of the edict of Nantes. 

'' But now the session of Parliament drew on^ and there was a 


great expectation of the issue of it. For some weeks before it 
met, there was such a number of refugees coming over every day, 
who set about a most dismal recital of the persecution in France ; 
and that in so many instances that -were crying and odious, that, 
though all endeavours were used ta lessen the clamour this had 
raised, yet the king did not stick openly to condemn it as both 
unchristian and unpolitic. He took pains to clear the Jesuits of 
it, and laid the blame of it chiefly on the king, on Madame de 
Maintenon, and the Archbishop of Paris. He spoke oflen of it 
with such vehemence, that there seemed to be an affectation ia 
it. He did more : He was very kind to the refugees ; he was li« 
beral to many of them ; he ordered a brief for a charitable col- 
lection over the nation for them all ; upon which great sum* 
were sent in. They were deposited in good handa, and well 6m^ 
tribated. The king also ordered them to be denizen*d, without 
paying feest and gave them great immunities. So that, in all, 
there came over, first and last, between forty and fifly of that na- 
tion. There was such real argument of the cruel and perseciK 
ting spirit of Popery, wheresoever it prevailed, that few could 
resist this conviction'; so that all men confessed, that the French 
persecution came very seasonably to awaken the nation^ and 
open men*s eyes in so critical a conjunction ; for upon this sea- 
won of Parliament all did depend."— «Burnet, Book IV. 

Note XXIH. 

A plain good man, whose name is understood, . 

(So few deserve the name of plain and goo^f.)— P. 226. 

ThesCy and the following lines, contain a character of James IL 
most exquisitely drawn, though, it must be owned, with a flatter- 
ing pencil. Bravery, econom v, integrity, are the ingredients which 
Drjrden has mixed for his colours. Without attempting a charac- 
ter of this unfortunate monarch, we may say a few words on each 
of the attributes ascribed to him. Bravery be unquestionably 
possessed ; but it was of that ordinary kind, which, though on-- 
shaken by mere personal danger, is unable to sustain its possess- 
or in great and embarrassing political emergencies. The ecc^ 
nomy of James, being one great engine by which he hoped to 
carry on his projects, was so rigid as sometimes to border upon 
avance. His upright integrity, the virtue upon which he chiefly 
prided himselff and which was the usual theme of courtly pane- 
gynCf frequently deviated into obstinacy. When he had once re- 
solved upon a measure, he often announced his resolution with 
iiiiprudence» and almost always pressed it with an open disre^d 
of consequences. No fiiult can be more fatal to an English kmg ; 
because the stream of popular opinion, which would subside if 


unopposed, becomes irresistible when the obstinacy of a monardi 
persists in attempting to stem it. 

Note XXIV. 

A sort of Doves fvere housed too near their hatt. 

Who cross the proverb, and abound with gtdL — P. 888. 

The virulent and abusive character which our author here draws 
of the clergy, and particularly those of the metropolis, diflfenso 
much fVom his description of the Church of England, in the per- 
son of the Panther, that we may conclude it was written after tbe 
publishing of the Declaration of Indulgence, when the king had 
decidedly turned his favour from the Established Church. Their 
quarrel was now irreconcileable^ and at immediate issue ; and 
Dryden, therefore, changes the tone of conciliation^ with which 
be nad hitherto addressed the heretic church, into that of bitter 
and unrelenting satire. Dryden calls them doves, in order to psTe 
the way for terming; them, as he does a little below, ** birds of 
Venus ;" as disowning the doctrine of celibacy. The popukr 
pinion, that a dove has no gall. Is well known. In ScMDUand, 
this is averred to be owing to the dove which Noah dismissed 
from the ark having flown so long, that his gall broke ; since 
which occurrence, none of the species have had any. 

Note XXV. 

An hideous Jlgure of their foes they drew. 

Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true ; 

And this grotesque design exposed to public view, — P. 231. 

The Roman Catholic pamphlets of the time are filled with com* 
plaints, that their principles were misrepresented by the Protest- 
ant divines ; and that king-killing tenets, and others of a perni- 
cious or absurd nature, were unjustly ascribed to them. A tract, 
which is written on purpose to explain their real doctrine, says, 
^^ Is it not strange and severe, that principles, and those pre« 
tended of faith too, should be imposed upon men which thrr 
themselves renounce and detest ? if the Turks' Alcoran should^ 
in like manner, be urged upon us, and we hanged up for Ma* 
hometans, all we could do or say, in such a case, would be, to 
die patiently, with protestations of our own innocence And this 
is the posture of our condition ; we abhor, we renounce, weabo* 
minate> such principles ; we protest against them, and seal oar 
protestations with our dying breath. What shall we say, what 
can we do more ? To accuse men as guilty in matters of faitbi 
which they never owned, is die same wing as to condemn them 


for matters of fact which they never did."* Another author, 
Bpeaking of the assumed character of the Established Church, 
says, that the Catholic controvertists have often told us^ that 
" we behave ourselves like persons diffident of our cause^ decline 
disputes on equal terms^ and either misrepresent their tenets, as 
app^uv manifestly in their doctrines of justification and merits 
satisfaction ^nd indulgence ; or else play the buffoons, joking, 
scoffing, and relating stories, which, it true, would not touch re- 
ligion."—^ Remonstrance, hy way of Address^ &c 

Note XXVI. 

No Holland emblem could that malice mend.^^F* 231. 

. Emblems, like puns, being the wit of a heavy people, the Dutch 
seem to have been remarkable for them ; of whichi their old* 
fashioned prints, and figured pan-tiles, are existing evidei^oe* 
Prior thus drolls upon the passage in the text : 

** Bayes, Oh ! dear sir, you are migh^ obliging : but I must 
needs say at a fable, or an emblem, I tBink no man comes near 
tne ; indeed, I have studied it mpre thoA any man. Did you ever 
take notice, Mr Johnson, of a little thing that has taken mightily 
about town, a cat with a top knot ? t 

** John. Faith, Sir, 'tis mighty pretty ; I saw it at the coffee^ 

'' Bayes, 'TIs a trifle hardly worth owning. I was t'other day at 
Will's, throwing out something of that nature ; and, i'gad, the 
hint was taken, and out came that picture ; indeed, the poor fel- 
low was so civil to present me with a dozen of 'em for my ftiends. 
I think I have one here in my pocket ; would you please to ac- 
cept it,'*Mr Johpson ? 

" John* Really, 'tis very ingenious. 

" Bayes* Oh, Lord, nothing at all! I could design twenty of 'em 
in an hour, if I had but witty fellows about me to draw 'em. I 
was proflfbred a pension to go into Holland and contrive their 
emblems ; but, hang 'em, they are dull rogues, and would spoil 
my mr&i\xon*''^Hind and Panther Transprosed* 

Note XXVII. 

The noUe Buzzard ever pleased me &ef/.— P. 2S3* 

Gilbert Burnet, well known as an historian, was bom of a good 
fkmily in Scotland, in 1643. He went through his studies with 

* Ronum Catholic Principles, 1080. 

f There is a copy of this Old caridUure print in Lattrdl's CoUectioo. 



succeu ; and^ being ordained by the Bishop of Edinbui^b, ob- 
tained the living of Salton, in East Lothian, in 1665. While in 
this living, he drew up a memorial of the abuses of the Scotch 
bishops, and was instrumental in procuring the induction of Pres- 
byterian divines into vacant churches ; a step which he afterwards 
condemned as imprudent.* To measures so unfavoanible ler 
Episcopacy, Dryden seems to allude, in these lines : 

I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm, 
And more, in time of war, has done us hartn ; 
But all his hate on trivial points depends, 
Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends. 

Burnet's opinion, or rather indifference, concerning forms, may 
be guessed at, from the applause with which he quotes a saying 
of Dr Henry More ; " None of them are bad enough to make men 
badf and I am sure none of them are good enough to make men 
good." He was next created Professor of Divinity at Glasgow; 
but as his active temper led him to mingle much in political life, 
he speedily distinguished himself rather as a politician than a the- 
ologian. In 1672 he was made one of the king's chaplains, and 
was in high favour both with Charles and his brother. He enjoy- 
ed much of the countenance of the Duke of Lauderdale ; but a 
quarrel taking place between them, the Duke represented Burnet's 
conduct in such terms, that he was deprived of his chaplainry, and 
forced to resign his professor's chair, and abandon Scotland. He 
had an opportunity of revenging himself upon Lauderdale, as will 
be noticed in a subsequent note. During the time of the Popish 
Plot, he again received a portion of the royal countenance. He 
was then preacher at the Rolls Chapel, under the patronage of Sir 
Harbottle Grimstone, master of the rolls, as also lecturer at St 
Clement's, and enjoyed a high degree of public consideration. Ha- 
vings as he conceived, a fit opportunity to awaken the conscience 
of Charles, he ventured upon sending him a letter, where he 
treated his personal vices, and the faults of his government, with 
great severity, f and by which he forfeited his favour for ever. 
This freedom, with his Low-church tenets, gave also offence to 
the Duke of York, who was, moreover, offended with him for 
some interference in the affair of the Exclusion, in which, if he 
did not go all the length of Shaftesbury, he recommended the 
appointment of a prince-regent; a measure scarcely more pa- 
latable to the successor. At length, his regard for Lord Russell, 
and the share which he took in penning, or circulating, his dymg 

• History of his Own Times, Vol. I. p. 280. 
t See Burnet's Life, by his Son, p> 686. 


declaratioBy drew upon him the full resentment of both brotherg. 
To tbisi a whimsical accident, in the choice of a text for the day 
of the gun-powder plot^ happened to contribute The preacher 
chanced (for we must belieye what he assures us^ ex verbo iacer* 
dotis) to pitch on these words *. ^* Save me from tlie lion's mouth ; 
thou hast delivered me from the horns of the unicorn^** This was 
interpreted as referring to the supporters of the rojral arms ; and 
Burnet was discharged, by the king's command, both from lee- 
turing at St Clement's, and preaching at the Rolls ChapeL After 
this final breach with the eourt he went abroad, and, having tra- 
velled through France and Italyt settled in Holland at the court 
of the Prince of Orange. Here he did not fail, with that ready 
insinuation which seems to have distingaished him, to make hiin- 
self of consequence to the prince^ and etpeciaUj to the pnoctm, 
afterwards Queen Mary. From this place of refuge he aeatiartk 
several papers^ in single sheets^ relating to the cootroTenr in 
England ; and the clergy* who had formerly looked upon ttim 
with some suspicion, b^an now to treat with great a t i cci ko a=d 
respect a person so capable of serving their cause. He waci ctjz^ 
suited upon every emergency ; which confidence was z»^ d'XJ'X 
owing partly to his situation near the penon of the Vtiuoc *A 
Orange, the protestant heir of the crown. He stood forward as 
the champion of the church of England* in the cobtroversy wlib 
Parker concerning the Test* In the •« Historj of Lit Ow:i Tin>»,' 
the bishop talks with complacency of the sway wbkii C7CX3> 
stances had given him among the clergy, and of tlM; isvpcrUJBt 
matters which fell under his managemeDt : i^n^ by ezpreu c>=^ 
mand of the Prince of Orange, be was admhwi itatj t.. zz^t h^ 
crets of the English intrigues. These insinuatiiaa« of h',j-x^h 
importance, although they afterwards drew the ridiciile ci Pvp^, 
and the Tory wits cMf Queen Anne's reign, may, trwn iLt vtsy t^ 
tire of Dryden, be proved to have been welt foooded. T:il^ ac- 
quired importance of Burnet is the alliance between the Pi^eo::^ 
house and Buzzard, which Dryden reprobates, believing, or wi^iw 
ing to make others believe, that Burnet held opinions unfavour- 
able to Episcopacy. James considered this divine as so formi- 
dable an enemy, that he wrote two very severe letters xo his 
daughter against him, and proceeded so far as to inslft tliat he 
should be forbidden the court ; a circunutance which d.d not 
prevent his privately receiving a double degree of countenance. 
A prosecution for high treason was ne^it commenced against Bur-* 
net, and a demand was made tiiat he should be delivered up ; 

* See Dr Flexman^s catalogue of his works, under the head '* Tracts, Poli^ 
^I, Pulemical, and Misodlaneous.** 


which the States evaded, by declaring that he was naturalised, 
by marrying a Dutch lady. The court of England wm then aup 
poied to have formed some plan, as they attempted io the case 
of Peyton, of seizing, or perhaps assassinating him, md a reward 
of L.SOOO was offered for the service. Burnet, however, confident 
in the protection of the Prince and States of Holland^ answeredt 
replied, and retorted* and carried on almost an immediate con- 
troversy with his sovereign, dated from the court of his aon-in-i 
law. This active politician had a very important sllare in the Re- 
volution, and reaped his reward, by being advanced to the jeeof 
Salisbury. He died on the ITth of March, 1714*15. 

His writings, theological, political, and polemical^ are very nu- 
merous ; but lie is most remarkable as an nistorian. The *' His- 
tory of the Reformation,*' but more especially that of '^ His Own 
Times," raises him to a high rank among our Englidi historiaofc 


A portly prince^ and goodly to the sighi. 
He seem'd a son ofAnctchjhr his height/ 
Like those whom statitre did io crowns prefer, 
Black-brow' di and bluff, like Homer's Jumter/ 
BroacUback'd, and brawny buiU^Jbr hoes de^ht, 
A prophet form d to make a female proselyte^— P, 284. 

The following song, which is preserved in the " State Poems," 
gives a sirnilar account of Burnet's personal appearance : 

A new Ballad, called the Brawny Bishop's Cotnplaint, 

To the Tune of-^Packington's Pound. 


When B ' t pereeiTed the beautiful dames. 
Who flocked to the chapel of holy St James, 
On their lovers the kiudest looks did bestow. 
And smiled not on him while he bellowed bdow ; 

To the Princess he went. 

With pious intent. 
This dangerous ill in the church to prevent s 
*"* O, Madam ! quoth he, our religion is lost. 
If the ladies thus ogle the knights of the toast. 

**> Your highness observes how I labour and sweat. 
Their affections to raise, and new flames to beget ; 
And sure when I preach, all the world will agree, 
That their ears and their eyes should be pointed <»i met 

But now I can't find 

One beauty so kind, 
As my parts to regard, or my presence to mind ; 
Kay, I scarce have a sight of any one face. 
But tliose of old Oxford, and ugly A'gl&s* 



** These w r ro w fu l matfOBs, with hearts full of |iuth» 
Repent for the nMoifiold sins of their yoath ; 
The rest with their tattle my harmony spoil ; 
And BuTu.ton, An— say, K— gstoo, and B-^-Je, 

Their minds entertain 

With thoughts so profime, 
^is a mercy to find that at church they contain ; 
Even Hen'>-ham*s shapes their weak fancies entioct 
And rather than me they will ogle the Vioe.* 

. IV. 

** These practices* madam, my preadiing disgrace | 
Shall laymen enjoy the just rights of my place f 
Then all may lunent my condition for hard. 
To thresh in the pulpit without a reward. 

Then pray condescend 

Such disorders to end. 
And from the ripe yinerards such laboorcrs send ; 
Or build up the seats, that the beauties may see 
The face of no brawny pretender but me.**— > 


The Princess, by mde importonities prc8s*d. 
Though she ]au^*d at bis reasons, a]k>w*d his request ; 
And uow Britain's nymphs, in Protestant rdgn. 
Are lockM up at prayers like the virgins in Spain : 

And all are undone, 

As sure as a sun, 
Whenever a woman is kept like a mm. 
If any kind man from bondage will save her. 
The lass, in gratitude, grants him the &vour« 

The jest of his being '' a prophet, formed to make a female 
proselyte,*' was more cuttings as he had just acquired a right of 
naturalization in Holland) by marrying Mrs Marv Scott^ a Dutch 
lady, but of Scottish extraction, being descended of the noble 
house of Buccleuch. 

Note XXIX. 

The hero andilte iyraiA dkange their stgkf 

By the same measure that they frown or smUe^/^^V. 235. 

It must be owned, that, with all Bishop Burnet's good quali* 
ties, there are particulars in his history which give colour for this 
accusation. His opinions were often hastily adopted, and of 
course sometimes awkwardly retracted, and (lis patrons were fre* 
quently changed. Thus, he vindicated the legality of divorce for 

* Mr B~-ty, vice-chamberlain. 


barrenness on the part of the wife, and even that of polygamy^ in 
his resolution of two important cases of conscience. These were 
intended to pave the way for Charles divorcing his barren wife 
Catherine, or marrying another ; and so raising a lamily of hii 
own to succeed him^ instead of the Duke of York. These opi- 
nions he formally retracted. Notwithstanding bis zeal for liberty, 
his first work is said by Swift to have been written in defence of 
arbitrary power. Above all^ his great intimacy witb the Dukei 
of Hamilton and Lauderdale, the King and the Duke of York, 
the Pope and the Prince of Orange ; in short, bis having the ad- 
dress to attach himself, for a time, to almost every leading cba- 
racter, whom he bad an opportunity of approaching, gives us 
room to suspect, that if Burnet did not change his opinions, he 
had at least the art of disguising such as could not be accom- 
modated to those of his immediate patron. When the king de- 
manded that Burnet should be delivered up by the States, he 
threatened, in return, to justify himself, by giving an aepount of 
the share he had in affairs for twenty years past ; in which he in- 
timated, he might be driven to mention some particulars^ which 
would displease the king. This threat* as he had enjoyed a con^ 
siderable share of his confidence when Duke of York^ may seem, 
in some degree, to justify Dry den's heavy diarge against him, of 
availing himself of past confidence to criminate former patrons. 
It is remarkable also, that even while he was in the secret of all 
the intrigues of the Revolution, and must have considered it as a 
near attempt, he continued to assert the doctrine of passive obe- 
dience ; and in his letter to M iddleton, in vindication of his con- 
duct against the charge of high treason, there is an affectation of 
excessive loyalty to the reigning monarch. Against these instan- 
ces of dissimulation, forced upon him perhaps by circumstances, 
but still unworthy and degrading, we may oppose many others, 
in which, when his principles and interest were placed at issue; 
be refused to serve the latter at the expence of the former. 

Note XXX. 

His praise of foes is venomously nice ; 

So touch* dy tt turns a virtue to a vtctf.— P. 235. 

This applies to the sketches of characters introduced by Bur- 
net in his controversial tracts. But long after the period when 
Dryden wrote, the publication of the History of his Own Times 
confirmed, to a certain extent, the censure here imposed. It is a 
general and just objection to the bishop's historical characters, 
tliat they are drawn up with too much severity, and that the keen- 
ness of party has induced him, in many cases, to impose upon the 


8 ctficitiirelbr a retembbiDoe. Yet there appears to have 
Iwen perlect ^ood faith upon his mrn part ; so that are maj safely 
■cfait him of an j intention to exaggerate the fiiults, or conceal 
the Tirtnea, oi hu poiiticai enemies. He seems himself to hare 
been conscious of a disposition to look upon the dark side of hu- 
manitj. ** I find/ says he, " that the long experience I have had 
of the baseness, the malice, and the falsehood of mankind, has in- 
dined me to be apt to think generally the worst of men, and of 
partJes." Burnet therefore candidly puts the reader upon h'S 
jguard against this predominant foible, and expressly warns him 
%o receive what he advances with some grains of allowance. 

But whatever was Burnet's private opinion of the conduct of 
withers, and however much he might be misled by prejudice in 
drawing their characters, it should not be forgotten, tluit, in the 
momenta of triumph which succeeded the Revolution, he not 
flAly resisted every temptation to revenge for personal injuries, 
but employed all bis influence to recommend mild and concilia* 
img conduct to the successful party. Some, who had sutfered 
under the severity of James's reign, were extremely indignant at 
what seemed to tJiem to ar<;ue too much feeling for their discom. 
fited adversaries, and too little sympathy with their own past dis- 
tresses* Samuel Johnson, in particular, reprobates the Scottish 
bishop's exhortations to forgiveness and forgetful ness of injuries. 
^' And, besides, we have Scotch doctors, to teach us the art of 
forgetfiilness. Pray you have gude memories, gude memories ; 
do not remember bad things, (meaning the murders and oppres- 
sions of the last reigns,) but keep your memories for gude things, 
have gude memories." To this mimicry of the bishop's dialect, 
in which, however, he seems to have conveyed most wholesome 
;^nd sound council, Johnson adds, that, during the sitting of King 
William's first parliament, wliile his complaints were before them, 
the l^ishop sent to him his advice, '' Not to name persons." " I 
gav^" says he, ** an £nglish reply to this message ; * Let him mind 
|iis business, I will mind mine.' His bookseller, Mr Cbiswell, by 
whom I had the message, seemed loth to carry him that blunt 
answer. Oh ! said I, he has got the title of a Lord lately, I must 
qualify my answer : ' Let him please to mind his own business, I 
will mind mine.''-^This was very natural for one smarting under 
au&rings, who complains, that *'' while a certain traveller," mean^ 
jog Burnet, '' was making his court to the cardinab at Rome, he 
^ot such an almanack in nis bones^ (from scourging,) as to incar 
y acita te ium from learning this Scotch trick of a gwie memory."* 

* Notes on the Phoenix Paftaral Letter, Johnson^s JVorktt pp. 317, 3)8. 
VOL, X. S 


But it is the rery character of moderate councils to be disgust- 
ing to those who have beeo hurried beyond their patience by 
oppression ; and Johnson's testimonyt though giTcn with a con- 
trary view, is highly honourable to the bishop's prudence. 

Note XXXI. 

But he^ uncaltdf his patron to coiUroul, 
Divulged the secret whispers of his souli 
Stooajbrth the accusing Satan of his crimei^" 
And ^gWd to the Moloch of the times.^F. 25/;. 

In 16759 the House of Cororoons being resolred to assail the 
13uke of Lauderdale^ and knowing that Burnet, in whom he had 
once reposed much confidence, could bear witness to some dan- 
gerous designs and expressions, appointed the doctor to attend 
and be examined. His own account of this delicate transactioB 
is as follows : 

** In April 1675, a session of parliament was held, as prepara- 
tonr to one that was designed next winter, in which money was 
to be asked ; but none was now asked, it being only called to hod 
all breaches* and to beget a good understanding between the king 
and his people. The House of Commons fell upon Duke Lauder- 
dale ; and tnose who knew what had passed between him and me* 
moved, that I should be examined before a committee. I was 
brought before them. I told them how I had been commanded 
out of town ; but though that was illegal, yet since it had been 
let fall, it was not insisted on. I was next examined concerning 
his design of arming the Irish Papists. I said, I, as well as others, 
had heard him say, he wished the Presbyterians in Scotland would 
rebel, that he might bring over the Irish Papists to cut their 
throats. I was next examined concerning the design of bringing 
a Scottish army into £ngland. I desired to be excused, as to 
what had passed in private discourse; to which I thought I was not 
bound to answer, unless it were high treason. They pressed me 
long, and I would give them no other answer ; so they all con- 
cluded, that I knew great matters ; and reported this specially to 
the House. Upon that I was sent for, and brought before the 
House. I stood upon it as I had done at the committee, that I 
was not bound to answer ; that nothing had passed that was high 
treason ; and as to all other things, I did not think myself bound 
to discover them. I said farther, I knew the Duke Lauderdale 
was apt to say things in a heat, which he did not intend to do ; 
and, since he had used myself so ill, I thought myself the more 
obliged not to say any thing that looked like revenge, for what I 
had met with from him. I wa» brought four times to the bar ; 
at last I was told, the House thought they had a right to examine 


into every thing that concerned the safety of the nation^ as well 
as into matters of treason ; and they looked on me as bonnd to 
satisfy them^ otherwise they would make me feel the weight of 
their heavy displeasure, as one that concealed what they thought 
vas necessary to be known Upon this I yielded, and gave an 
.account of the discourse formerly mentioned. They laid great 
.weight on this^ and renewed their address against Duke Lauder- 

f* I was much blamed for wliat I had done. Some, $p malce it 
look the worse, added, that I had been, his chapUin^ which was 
false ; and that I had beeo much obliged to him, though I had 
never received any real.ohUg^ion frooi him, but had done him 
flreat servic^^, for which I had been very unworthily requited ; 
Yet the thing had an ill appearance, as the diisclosing of what had 
passed in confidence ; though I make it a great question, how far 
. even that ought to bind a man when the designs are very wickec^ 
and the person continued still in the same post and capacity of 
jexecuting them. I have told the matter as it was, and must leave 
jmyBeAi to th^ ceniar6 pf the reader. My love to my country, and 
my private friendship, carried me, perhaps, too far ; especially 
since I had declared much against clergymen's meddling in secu- 
lar affairs, and yet had run myself so deep in them."?— i/tf^ory of 
his Own Ti%$eSi Vol. I. p. 37^. 

The discourse to which gurnet refers, was pf the fpllpwix^g daur 
gerous tendency, and took place in Septe^nber 1673- 

** Dfikfi, If the ki^g jshould need an army from Scotland, to 
jtame those in England, might the Scots be depended upon? 

'^ Burnet. Certainly not. The commons in the southern parts 
are all Presbyterians. The nobility thought they had been ill 
Aised, were generally discontented} and only waited for an oppor- 
Xunity to she^^ it. 

*' Duke. I am of another mind. The hope pf the spoil pf £ng« 
tod will bring them all in^ 

*^ Burnett The king is ruined if he jtrusts to that ; for even in- 
different persons, who might otherwise have been ready enough 
;to push their forXunes without any an^ipus enquiries into the 
grounds they went upon, wil) ngt npw trust the king, since he 
has so lately said, he would stick to his declaration,* and yet has 
•§0 soon given it up. 

^< Duke. Hiuc iUoe lacrytn^. The king was forsaken in that 
master, and none sticks to hiAi but Lord Clifford and mysel.f.*'--r 
lialph, toilh the Authorities he quotes, Vol. I. p. 275. 

James 1 1, afterwards revived the plan of maintaining a Scot- 
tish standing army, to bridle his English subjects. 

• The Declaration of Indulgence. Sec Vol. IX. p. 4t7. 


Note XXXII. 

And runs an Indian muck at all he iitfe^.— P. 235. 

To run a rouck> is a phrase derived from a practice of the Ma- 
lays. When one of this nation has lost his whole sabstance by 
gaming, or sustained any other ^;reat and insup^rtable calamity, 
he intoxicates himself with opium ; and, haring dishevelled his 
hair, rushes into the streets^ crying Amocco, or KmR, and stabbing 
every one whom he meets with his creeze, until he is cut down, 
or shot, like a mad dog. 


Such was, and is, the Captain of the Tcs^.— P. S86. 

Burnet may have been thus denominated^ from having written 
the following pamphlets, in the controversy respecting the Test, 
against Parker, the apostate bishop of Oxford :— 

** An Enquiry into the Reasons for Abrc^ting the Test impo> 
sed on all Members of Parliament, offered by Dr Samuel Parker, 
Bishop of Oxford/' 

" A Second Part of the Enquiry into the Reasons offered by 
Doctor Samuel Parker, Bishop of Oxford, for Abrogating the 
Test ; or an Answer to his plea for Transubstantiation, and fcnr 
Acquitting the Church of Rome of Idolatry." 

^' A Continuation of the Second part of the Enquiry into the 
Reasons offered by Dr Samuel Parker, Bishop of Oxford, fbr 
Abrogating the Test relating to the Idolatry of the Church of 

These two last pamphlets were afterwards thrown together in 
one tract, entitled, " A Discourse concerning Transubstantiation 
and Idolatry, being an Answer to the Bishop of Oxford's plea re^ 
lating to these two points." 

Burnet himself admits, that his papers^ in this controversy with 
Parker, were written with an acrimony of style which nothing but 
such a time and such a man could excuse. His papers were so 
bitter, that nobody durst offer them to the Bishop of Oxford, till 
the king himself sent them to him, in h<^es to stimulate him to 
an answer. 

Several of these pieces seem to have been published after ''The 
Hind and the Panther ; ** but it must have been generally known 
at the time^ that Burnet had placed himself in Uie front of this 

And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir. 
Though naming not the patron, to infer. 
With all resjpeet, he was a gross idolater. 


true^ he had something to sink fVom, in matter of wit ; but ts for 
his morals, it is scarce possible for him to grow a worse man than 
he was. He has lately wreaked his malice on me for spoiling bis 
three months* labour ; but in it he has done me all the honouir 
that any man can receive from him, which is to be railed at by 
him. If I had ill nature enough to prompt me to wish a Terr 
bad wish for him, it should be, that he would go on and finish lui 
translation. By that it will appear, whether the English nation* 
which is the most competent judge in this matter> has, upon the 
seeing our debate, pronounced in M. Varillas's favour, or m mine 
It is true, Mr D. will suffer a little by it ; but at least it will 
serve to keep him in from other extrayagancies ; and if he gains 
little honour by this work, yet he cannot lose so much by it, as 
he has done by his last employment." 

Note XXXIV. 

They long their fellofV'Subfectg to enthral^ 
Their patron's promise into question caUf 
And vainly think he meant to make them lords ^aXU 

P. 236. 


Part of the controversy which now raged, turned on the pre- 
cise meaning of the king's promise, to maintain the church of 
England as by law established. The church party insisted, that 
the Declaration of Indulgence was a breach of this promise, as it 
suspended their legal safeguards, the test and penal laws. The 
advocates for the toleration answered, that the promise was con- 
ditional, and depended on the church consenting to the abroga- 
tion of these laws. This was stated by Penn, in his '* Good Ad- 
vice;" to which the following indignant answer is made by a 
champion of the church, perhaps Burnet himself: 

'< And if there be no other way of giving the king an opportu- 
nity of keeping his word with the church of England, in preser- 
ving her, and maintaining our religion, but the repealing of the 
penal and test laws, as he intimates unto us, (Good Advice, p. 50|) 
we have not found the royal faith so sacred and inviolable in other 
instances, as to rob ourselves of a legal defence and protection, 
for to depend upon the precarious one of a bare promise, which 
his ghostly fathers, whensoever they find it convenient, will tell 
him it was unlawful to make, and which he can have a dispensa- 
tion for the breaking of, at what time he pleascth. Nor do we 
remember, that when he pledged his faith unto us, in so many 
promises, that the parting with our laws was declared to be the 


condition upon which he made, and undertook to perform them 
Neither can any have the confidence to allege it, without having 
recourse to the Papal doctrine of mental reservation^ which be- 
ing one of the principles of that order, under whose conduct he 
is, makes us justly afraid to rely upon his word without further 
security. However, we do hereby see, with what little sincerity 
Mr Penn writes ; and what small regard he hath to his majesty's 
honour, when he tells the church of England, that if she please, 
and like the terms of giving up the penal and test laws against 
Papists, that then the king will perform his word with her; (Good 
Advice, p. 17.) but that otherwise, it is she who breaks with him, 
and not he with her." — (Ibid. p. 44.) 

Note XXXV. 

Then, all maturely weigh^dt pronounced a doom 
Of sacred strength for &oery age to come. 
By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, 
No rights infringed, but licence to oppress. — P. 237. 

The declaration for liberty of conscience was a strange and in- 
coneruousy as well as most impolitic performance. It set out with 
decmring, that although the king heartily wished that all his sub- 
iects were members of the Catholic church, (which they returned, 
by heartily wishing that he were a Protestant,) yet he abhorred 
all idea of constraining conscience ; and therefore, making no 
doubt of the concurrence of Parliament^ declared, 1. That he 
would protect and maintain the bishops, &c. of the church of 
England, as J[)y law established, in the free exercise of their reli- 
gion, and quiet enjoyment of their possessions. 2. Jhat all exe« 
cution of penal laws against non-conformists be suspended. S. 
That all his majesty's subjects should be at liberty to serve God 
after their own way, in public and private, so nothing was preach- 
ed against the royal authority. 4. That the oaths of supremacy 
and allegiance, and the tests made in the 25th and 30th years of 
Charles XL, be discontinued. 5. That all non-conformists be par- 
doned for former offences against the penal laws and test. 6. lliat 
abbey and church lands be assured to the possessors. 

Such were the contents of this memorable Declaration, in which 
a bigotted purpose was cloaked under professions of the highest 
liberality ; and prevarication and falsehood were rendered more 
disgusting, by being mingled with very unseasonable truth. 


Note XXXVI. 

Concluding inell toiihin his hmsly breasif 
His Jowls of nature too unjumy were oppress s 
He therefore makes all birds, of every sed. 
Free of his farm, — P. 237- 

When the king had irreconcileably quarrelled with the chordi, 
he began to affect a sreat favour for the dissenters ; and^ as hai 
been often hinted^ endeavoured to represent the measure of univer- 
sal toleration to be intended as much for tlie benefit of tlie Pro- 
testant dissenters as of the Catholics. He dwelt upon the rigour 
of the church courts^ and directed an inquiry to be made into all 
the vexatious suits which had been instituted against the dissen- 
ters, and the compositions which had been exacted from them^ 
under pretence of enforcing the laws. In short, Burnet assures 
us, that the rojal bed-chamber and drawing- roona were as full 
of stories to the prejudice of the clergy, as they used formerly 
to abound with declamations against the fanatics. ^ 


*Tls said, the Doves repented, though too laie. 
Become the smiths of their own foofvsh fate ; 
Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour, 
Butf sunk in credit^ they decreased in power ; 
Like snows in warmth that mildly pass arvay. 
Dissolving in the silence of decay, — P. 238. 

In the preceding lines* the poet had intimated the increase of 
trade and wealth ; an effect of toleration, much dwelt upon in 
James's proclamation for liberty of conscience, and, indeed, the 
ostensible cause of its being issued. But Dryden, as every one 
else, further augured from the Declaration of Indulgence, under 
the circumstances of the time, the speedy downfall of the church 
of England, though he is willing to spare the king the odium of 
hastening what he represents as the natural consequence of her 
own ambition and intolerance. A writer of his party is less scru- 
pulous in expressing the king's intentions : " So, on the whole 
matter, the loyal church of England must either change her old 
principles of loyalty, and take example by her Catholic neigh- 
bours, how to behave herself towards a prince who is not of her 
persuasion, or she must give his majesty leave not to nourish a 
snake in his own bosom, but rather to withdraw his royal protec- 
tion, which was promised on account of her constant fidelity : 
For it is an approved axiom in philosophy, Cessante causa, toUitur 
effectus ; and we have a common saying of our own, No longer 

vcensM ON the hind and the faktheii. 281 

jdpe, no knger dance. And now let us leave* the hf>]y mother 
church at liberty to consult what new measures of loyalty slie 
ought to take for her own dear interest, and, for aught I know^ 
4t may be worth her serious consideration/' — New Test of the 
Church of England's Loyally. 


But each have separate interests of their onm ; 
Two Czars are one too many for a throne. 
Nor can the usurper long abstain Jrom food; 
Already he has tasted Ptgeon's bloody 
And may be tempted to his former fare.-^V. 239. 

Dryden insinuates the improbability^ that the high and low 
church party would long continue in union, since the authority 
assumed by Burnet^ their present advocate^ was inconsistent with 
that of Sancroft the primate, Compton^ Bishop of London, and 
other leaders of the high church party among the clergy. He re- 
sumes the theme of Burnet's alleged disinclination for episcopacy. 
In fact, although his lot cast him into the church of England, the 
Bishop of Sarum, in many parts of his writings, expresses an un- 
favourable opinion of her clergy, whom in one place he calls 
the most remiss of any in Europe. Even this harsh expression 
18 nothing to the following account* of the controversy between 
the clergy and dissenters, as it stands in the MS. of his history ; 
for it is greatly softened in the printed copy. 

'* Many books came out likewise against the church of Eng- 
land. This alarmed the bishops and clergy much ; so that they 
set up to preach against rebellion, and the late times, in such a 
strain, that it was visible they meant a parallel between these and 
the present time. And this produced at last that heat and rage 
into which the clergy has run so far, that it is like to end very 
fatally. They, on their part, should have shewed more temper, 
and more of the spirit of the gospel ; whereas, for the greatest 
part, they are the worst natured, the fiercest, indiscreetest, and 
most persecuting sort of people that are in the nation. There is a 
sort of them do so aspire to preferment, that there is nothing so 
mean and indecent that they will not do to compass it ; and when 
they have got into preferments, they take no care, either of them- 
selves, or of the flocks committed to their charge, but do general- 
ly neslect their parishes. If they are rich enough, they hire some 
gitif tu curate, at as low a price as they can, and turn all over on 
im ; or, if their income will not bear out that, they perform the 
public offices in the slightest manner they can, but take no care 
of their people in the way of private instruction or admonition ; 
and so do nothing to justify the character of pastors or watchmen, 



that feed the souls of their people, or watch over them. Ani 
they allow themselves in many indecent liberties,— of going to 
taverns and alehouses, and of railing scurrilously against all that 
differ from them ; and tliey cherish the profaneness of their peo- 
ple, if they but come to church, and rail with them agamst the 
dissenters ; and are implacably set on the ruin of all Uiat sepa- 
rate from them, if the course of their lives were otherwise ever 
so good and unbiameable. In a word, many of them are a re- 
proach to Cliristianity and to their profession ; and are now, per«i 
haps, one of the most corrupt bodies of men in the nation."— 
Somers* Tracts^ p. 116. 




(born on ths 10th JUNE, 1688.) 

Dt pairii indigetes, et Romule, Vestaque maier, 
QuoB Tuseum Tyberim et Romana pcdatia servos, 
Hunc saltern everso puerum succurrere sobcIo 
Ne prohibete I satis jampridem sanguine nostra 
La/mttdontecs biimus perjuria Trqjas* 

Vi&G. Georg. 1. 


Tax remarkable incident^ which gave rise to the following 
peeniy waa hailed by the Catholics with the most unbounded joy. 
That fMurty, whose transient prosperity depended upon the decU« 
niog life of James II., could hardly enjoy their present power^ 
•mbittered as it was by the reflection^ that it must end with tha 
ittign of the king and the succession of the Princess of Orange. 
Many circumstances seemed to render the hopes of the king ha-r 
iriog a male heir of his body extremely precarious. His system 
mat said to have been injured by early dissipation, and he was 
now advanced in life. The queen» also, bad been in a bad state 
€€ health ; had lost all her children soon after they were born ; 
and had now^ for several years, ceased to have any. Amidst 
these discouraging considerations^ the queen^s pregnancy was 
announced in 1687 ; and even before his birth, addressers and 
panegjrrists in verse hailed the future prince, as a pledge for the 
nainteDance of liberty of conscience, and the security of the 
Mjal line.* 

But the Catholics were so transported with this unexpected 
liapptness, that they could not refrain from spreading an hundred 
follies, tending to connect the queen's pregnancy with the effi- 
cacy of the king's faith. Some said» that the queen's conception 
took place at the very time when her mother made a vow to the 
Xiady of Loretto, that her daughter might by her means have a 
aon : Others attributed it to the queen's personal influence with 
Saint Xavier : Others to the intercessions of the Jesuits, among 

* The addimMt-of the grand juries of the ooantiM of Mopmoutb, Stafibrdt 
Gloeester, Yorkshire, && &c., all pressed forward upon this occasion, and are 
ifl poAifve that the hhsscd hope of the queen*s womb must\Decessarily prove a 
«Hh iiaee the king seemed to nave very httle oecasioB for more daughters. Ed- 
■wmd Anrakcr is d iIm same opinien* in hie poem humbly dedicated to the 
QoceD, on oocanon of her majes^s h^py conception. 


whom the king had enrolled himself: All aicrilMd so bappj ind 
unhoped an event to something more than mere Dataral camci, 
and ventured to presage, that Uie joyful fruit of the queen'aoQi- 
ception would prove a son, since otherwiset it waa said, God 
would have done his work by halves.* It is dangerous for an- 
ligious sect to cry, A miracle ! for it is always echoed by tbdr 
adversaries^ shouting out. An imposture! The samecircumstaiioei 
which induced the Catholics to oelieve that this happy event w» 
owing to a peculiar divine interposition, led the nation to aseribe 
so unexpected and opportune an occurrence to aitifiop and impo- 
sition ; and they were prepared to pronounce a birth spuriooi, 
which their adversaries had incautiously pushed to the vei^ of 

. On the lOth of June, 1688, the prinee waabom^ under dron- 
stances which ought to have removed all suspicion of impostan, 
But these suspicions were too deeply rooted in party prejiidieei 
and fears ; and it became a distinguishing mark of a true Fro* 
testant, to hold for spurious the birth of a prince, which took 
place in the presence of more people than is either consistol 
with custom or decency. 

In the mean while, public rejoicings, of the moat splendid 
kind, were solemnized at home and abroad ;■)( and the poets 
flocked with their addresses of congratulation :t ^^ ^^ birth of 

« *' That which does us most hann with the lords a&d great men, is the ip* 
prehension of a heretic successor : For as a lord told me lately, assure me of i 
Catholic successor, and I assure you I and my family will be so too. To ^tm par* 
pose the Queen's happy delivery will be of very great moment. Our zealoos Ci- 
tholics do already lay two to one that it will be a prince. God does DoUni^ by 
halves, and every day masses are said upon this very occa»on,**~^Letter from Fa- 
ther Pctre to Father La Cliaise. This letter is a forgery, but it distinctly exprena 
ihe hopes and apprehensions of both parties. 

"f* The most remarkable were celebrated at the Hague, by the Marquis of Ab- 
beville, his majesty's ambassador there. On one side of a triumphal arch weie 
the figures of Truth and Justice, with this inscription : Veritas et JuHUiafdA' 
vientiwi throni Patris et erunt met : On the other side were Religion and Libeitj 
embracing, with this motto, Religio et Liberia* amplexatce erant. On the portioo 
was painted the conquest of the dragon by St George, and the delivery of St 
Margaret, explained to allude to the liberty of conscience procured by Jamo'i 
abolition of the test and penal laws. These decorations, remarkable for their im- 
port, and the place in which they were exhibited, were accompanied with the dis- 
charge of iire-works, and other public rejoicings. There are particular accounts 
of the splendid rejoicings at Ratisbon and Paris, &c. &c in the Gazettes oi the 

X As for example, the poets of Isis, in a collection called '< Strenee NataiUm 
VI Cdcissimum principenu^-'Ojeoni ; E Theatro ShedonianOf 1688." CiHisistiiig 
ftf l.atin, .Greek, Arabic, aQ4 Turkish, p^toral, heroic, and lyrical fueces, fm ^ 
liappy topic. 


m Prince of Wales, who' was doomed shortly to be distinguished 
through the £ngHsh dominions by the ignominious appellatiofi 
of Pretender^ and abroad^ by the diubious title of Chevalier de St 
George. It was peculiarly the part of our author, as poet-lau- 
reatf and a good Catholicy to solemnize an event of so much im-r 
nortance to the king, and those of his religion, and to bear down^ 
if posnble, the popular prejudice by the exertion of his poetical 
.powers. ** Britannia Rediviva*' was written, nine days after the 
eveatxdebrated, and published accordingly. It is licensed on 
•the 19th of June. 

, In this poem, our author assumes the tone and feeling which we 
bave described as general among the Catholics, upon this happy 
and unexpected event. It is less an address of congratulation 
4luak a solemn devotional hjrmn ; and, even considered as such, 
abeunds with expressions of awful gratitude, rather for a roira- 
iCiiloos interposition of heaven and the blessed saints, than for a 
blessiQg conferred through the ordinary course of nature. Dry- 
den, who knew how to assume every style that fitted the occasion, 
writes here in the character of a devout and grateful Catholic* 
miih much of the uncUou which marks the hymns of the Roman 
-church. In English poetry, we have hardly another example of 
tlie peculiar tone which tlie invocation of saints, and an enthu- 
aiasttc faith in the mystic doctrines of the Catholic faith, can give 
to poetry. To me, I confess, that communion seems to offer the 
aame fiicilities to the poet, which it has been long famous for af- 
fisiding to the painter ; and the " Britannia Rediviva," while it 
edebrates ^he mystic influence of the sacred festivals of the Pa- 
ladete and the Trinity, and introduces the warlike forms of St 
Michael and St George, has oflen reminded me of one of the an- 
cient altar-pieces, which it is impossible to regard without reve- 
rence, though presenting miracles which never happened, or saints 
who never existed. These subordinate divinities are something 
upon which the imagination, dazzled and overwhelmed by the 
i^ontemplation of a single Omnipotent Being, can fairly rest and 
expand itself. They approach nearer to humanity and to com- 
prehension ; yet are suificiently removed from both, to have the 

The following poems are in the Luttrell Collection ; 

•• Votwnpro Principe* 

** To the King, upon the Queen's being delivered of a Son ; by John Baber, 

*^ To the King, on ditto ; by William Niven, late master of the music school 
of Inverness, in Scotland.*' Surely the very ultirna Thuie o£ poetry. 

^* A Congratulatory Poem en ditto, by Mrs Beho. 

•' A Pindarique Ode on ditto, by Calib Calle." 


full eflTect of sublime obscurity. Dryden has undoubtedly reaped 
considerable advantage from religion in the present poem. It 
must, however, be owned, that the effect of these passages ii 
much injured by the frequent allusion to the deities of classics! 
mythology; and that Dryden has ranked the gods and goddesset 
of ancient Rome with the saints of her modem church, in the 
same indiscriminate order in which they are classed in the Pan- 
theon. We have the Giants' War immediately preceding the 
miracle wrought on tlie Shunamite's son ; and the serpents of the 
infant Hercules are classed in the very sentence with the dragooi 
of the Apocalypse. On one occasion he has stooped yet lower, 
and condescended to pun upon the child s being bom on Trinity 
Sunday, as promising at least a trine of infant princes* 

Still, however, the strain of the poem is, upon the whole, grave 
and exalted. B^des the general tone of ** Britannia Rediviva," 
there are many passages in it deserving the reader^s attention. 
The address to the queen, beginning, ** But you^ propitioui 
queen," has all the smoothness with which Dryden could vary 
the masculine character of his general poetry, when he addressed 
the female sex, and forms a marked contrast to the more majev 
tic tone of the rest of the piece. It may indeed be said of Dry* 
den, as he himself says of Virgil, that though he is smooth what 
smoothness is required, yet he is so far from affecting that gcneni 
character, that he seems rather to disdain it* 

The original edition of the '* Britannia Rediyiva" ia in quartOi 
printed, as usual, for Tonson, with a motto from the first book of 
the Georgics, which is now restored. The concluding lines re£er 
to the death of so many Catholics by the perjured evidences of 
Gates and Bedlow : 

mtU jampridem sanguine nottro 

Laofnedoiitas luimus peijuria Trqjcs, 

The word perjuriaf as well as Puerum, in the preceding pasr 
sage, are marked by a difference of type ; a mode of soliciting 
the attention of the reader to a pointed remark or inuendo, whi(£ 
was first used in Charles II.'s time, and seems to have been intro* 
duced by L'£strange, who carried it to a most extravagant de- 
gree, chequering his Observators with all manner of characterS| 
from the Roman to the Anglo-Saxon* 


OuB VOWS are heard betimes^ and heaven takes care 
To grants before we can conclude the prayer ; 
PijeVenting angels met it half the way. 
And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. 

Just on the day, when the high-mounted sun 
Did farthest in its northern progress run, * 
He bended forward, and even stretch'd the sphere 
Beyond the limits of the lengthened year. 
To view a brighter sun in Britain bom ; 
That was the business of his longest mom ; 
The glorious object seen, 'twas time to turn. 

Departing spring coidd only stay to shed 
Her gloomy beauties on the genial bed. 
But left the manly summer in her stead. 
With timely fruit the longing land to cheer. 
And to fulfil the promise of me year. 
Betwixt two seasons comes the auspicious heir. 
This age to blossom, and the next to bear. 


* The 10th of June. 
VOL. X. T 


Last solemn Sabbath * saw the church attend, 
The Paraclete in fiery pomp descend ; 
But when his wonderous octave f roll'd again. 
He brought a royal infant in his train. 
So great a blessing to so good a king, 
None but the Eternal Comforter could bring. 

Or did the mighty Trinity conspire. 
As once in council to create our sire ? 
It seems as if they sent the new-born guest. 
To wait on the procession of their feast ; 
And on their sacred anniverse decreed 
To stamp their image on the promised seed. 
Three realms united, and on one bestow'd. 
An emblem of their mystic union show'd ; 
The Mighty Trine the triple empire shared. 
As every person would have one to guard. 

Hail, son of prayers ! by holy violence 
Drawn down from heaven ; :|: but long be banish'd 

And late to thy paternal skies retire ! 
To mend our crimes, whole ages would require ; 
To change the inveterate habit of our sins. 
And finish what thy godlike sire begins* 
Kind heaven, to make us Englishmen again. 
No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. 

The sacred cradle to your charge receive. 
Ye seraphs, and by turns the guard relieve ; 
Thy father's angel, and thy father join. 
To keep possession, and secure the line : 
But long defer the honours of thy fate ; 
Great may they be like his, like his be late. 
That James this running century may view. 
And give this son an auspice to the new. 

* Whitsunday. 

f Trinity Sunday, the Octave of Whitsunday, 

i Note 1. 


Our wants exact at least that moderate stay ; 
, For, see the dragon * winged on his way. 

To watch the travail, f and devour the prey^ 

Or, if allusions may not rise so high, . 
' Thus, when Alcides raised his infant cry, 

The snakes besieged his young divinity ; 

But vainly with their forked tongues they threat, 

For opposition makes a hero great. 

To needful succour all the good will ruUj 
I And Jove assert the godhead of his son. 
i O, still repining at your present state, . 
I Grudging yourselves the benefits of fate ; 
j' XiOok up, and read in characters of light 
; A blessing sent you in your own despite ! 
r The manna falls, yet that celestial bread, 
f Lfike Jews, you munch, and murmur while you feed* 
|j May not your fortune be, like theirs, exiled. 

Yet forty years to wander in the wild ! 

Or, if it be, may Moses live at least. 

To lead you to the verge of promised rest ! 
I Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow 
I Whatplants will take the blight, and what will grow. 

By tracing heaven, his footsteps may be found ; 

Behold, how awfully he walks the round ! 

God is abroad, and, wondrous in his ways. 

The rise of empires, and their fall, surveys ; 

More, might I say, than with an usual eye, 
[ He sees his bleeding church in ruins lie. 

And hears the souls of saints beneatl^ his altar cry. 

* Alluding only to the commonwealth party here, and in othe^i 
parts of the poem. Dryden.— See Note II. 
f Rev. xii. V. 4. 


Already has he lifted high the sign. 

Which crown'd the conquering anns of Constan- 

The moon f grows pale at that presaging sight, 
And half her train of stars have lost their light 

Behold another Sylvester, ^: to bless 
The sacred standard, and secure success ; 
Large of his treasures, of a soul so great. 
As fills and crowds his universal seat* 
Now view at home a second Constantine ; § 
(The former too was of the British line^) 
Has not his healing balm your breaches closed, 
Whose exile many sought, and few opposed ? ^ 
O, did not heaven, by its eternal doom. 
Permit those evils, that this good might come? 
So manifest, that even the moon-eyed sects 
See whom and what this Providence protects. 
Methinks, had we within our minds no more 
Than that one shipwreck on the fatal Ore, || 
That only thought may make us think again, 
What wonders Gk)d reserves for such a reign. 
To dream, that chance his preservation wrought, 
Were to think Noah was preserved for nought ; 
Or the surviving eight were not designed 
To people earth, and to restore their kind. 

• The Cross. 

t The Crescent, which the Turks bear for their arms. Dry- 
DEW. — Note III. 

j[. The Pope, in the time of Constantine the Great ; alluding to 
the present Pope. Dryden. — See Note IV. 

§ King James II. 

IF Bill of Exclusion. 

II The Lemmon Ore, on which the vessel of King James was 
lost in his return from Scotland. The crew perished, and he 
himself escaped with difficulty. — See Vol. IX. p. 401. 


When humbly on the royal babe we gaze. 
The manly lines of a majestic face 
Give awful joy ; 'tis paradise to look 
On the fair frontispiece of nature's book. 
If the first opening page so charms the sight. 
Think how the unfolded volume wiU delight ! 

See how the venerable* infant lies 
In early pomp ; how through the mother's eyes 
The father's soul, with an undaunted view, 
Looks out, and takes our homage as his due ! 
See on his future subjects how he smiles. 
Nor meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles ; 
But with an open face, as on his throne. 
Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own. 
Born in broad day-light, that the ungrateful rout 
May find no room for a remaining doubt ;f 
Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun. 
And the true eaglet safely dares the sun, 

Fain:t would the fiends have made a dubious 
liOth to confess the godhead clothed in earth ; 
But, sicken'd after all their baffled lies. 
To find an heir apparent in the skies, 
Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge. 
And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge. 

Not great iBneas stood in plainer day, || 
When the dark mantling mist dissolved away ; 


* Venerable is here used in its original sense, as deserving of 
Teneration. But the epithet has been so commonly connected 
with old age, that a modern poet would 'hardly venture to apply 
it to an inmnt* 

+ Note y. 

i Alluding to the temptation in the wilderness. 

II RestUit jEneaSf dar^que in luce refiihit, 
Os, humerosque deo similis ; namque ipsa decoram 
Cassariem nato senetrix, lumenquejuventaB 
Purpureumf ei Taios oculis afflarai konores. 

iEneid. Lib. I. 


He to the Tynans shew'd his sudden face. 
Shining with all his goddess mothei^s grace ; 
For she herself had made his countenance bright, 
Breath'd honour on his eyes, and her own purple light 

If our victorious Edward,* as they say. 
Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day. 
Why mav not years revolving with his fate 
Produce his like, but with a longer date ; 
One, who may Carry to a distant shore 
The terror that his famed forefather bore ? 
But why should James, or his young hero, stay 
For slight presages of a name or day ? 
We need no Edward's fortune to adorn 
That happy moment when our prince was bom ; 
Our prince adorns this day, and ages hence 
Shall wish his birth-day for some future prince. 

Great Michael, t prince of all the ethenal hosts, 
And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts ; 
And thou, the adopted patron t of our isle. 
With cheerful aspects on this infant smile ! 
The pledge of heaven, which, dropping from above, 
Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love. 

Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought,^ 
When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught ; 
Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire. 
Nor did the avenging angel yet retire. 
But purged our still-increasing crimes with fire 
Then perjured plots, || the still impending test,** 
And worse — f f but charity conceals the rest. 

* Edward the Black Prince, born on Trinity Sunday. 

f The motto of the poem explained. 

X St George. 

IT 'i he great Civil War. 

§ The Fire of London. 

II The Popish plot. 

** The Test-act. 

ft The death of the Jesuits, executed for the Plot. 


Here stop the current of the sanguine flood ;* 
Require not, gracious (iod ! thy martyrs' blood ; 
But let their dying pangs, their living toil, ' 
Spread a rich harvest through their native soil ; 
A harvest ripening for another reign. 
Of which this royal babe may reap the grain. 

Enough of early saints one womb has given. 
Enough increased the family of heaven ;• 
JLet them for his and our atonement go. 
And, reigning blest above, leave him to rule below; 
. Enough already has the year foreslow'd 
His wonted course, the sea has overflow'd. 
The meads were floated with a weeping spring. 
And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing ; 
The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints. 
And the same shivering sweat his lord attaints.f 
When wijl the minister of wrath give o'er ? 
Behold him at Araunah's threshing-floor ! 
He stops, and seems to sheathe his flaming brand. 
Pleased with burnt incense from our Diavid's hand ;l 
David has bought the Jebusite's abode. 
And raised an altar to the living God* 

Heaven, to reward him, makes his joys sincere ; 
No future ills nor accidents appear. 
To sully and pollute the sacred infant's yefar. 
Five months to discord and debate were given ;|| 
He sanctifies the yet remaining seven. 
Sabbath of months ! henceforth in him be blest. 
And prelude to the realm's perpetual rest ! 

Let his baptismal drops for us atone ;§ 
Lustrations for offences not his own : 

* All the queen's former children died in infancy* 

"^ The year 1688^ big with so many events of importance, 
commenced very unfavourably with stormy weather^ and an epi- 
demical distemper among men and cattle. 

X 1 Kings^ chap, xxxiv* 

IJ Note VL 
Original sin, supposed to be washed off by baptism. 



Let conscience, which is interest ill 
In the^same font be cleansed, and all the land bap- 

Unnamedf as yet ; at least unknown to fame ; 
Is there a strife in heaven about his name. 
Where every famous predecessor vies, 
And makes a faction for it in the skies ? 
Or must it be reserved to thought alone ? 
Such was the sacred T6tragrammaton4 
Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd ; 
Thus the true name of Rome^ was kept conceal^ 
To shim the spells and sorceries of those. 
Who durst her infant majesty oppose. 
But when his tender strength in time shall rise 
To dare ill tongues, and fascinating eyes^ 
This isle, which hides the little Thunderer's fame. 
Shall be too narrow to contain his name. 
The artillery of heaven shall make him known ; 
Crete || could not hold the god, when Jove was 

As Jove's increase,^ who from his brain was bom, 
Whom arms and arts did equally adorn. 
Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste 
Minerva's name to Venus had debased ; 
So this imperial babe rejects the food. 
That mixes monarch's with plebeian blood,** 

* See « The Hind and the Panther," p. 224?. 

f The prince christened, but not named. 

X Jehovah^ or the name of God, unlawful to be pronounced by 
the Jews. Dryden. 

§ Some authors say^ that the true name of Rome was kept a 
secret, ne hostes incantamentis deos elicerent. Dryden. 

II Candia, where Jupiter was born and lived secretly. Dryden. 

IF Pallas, or Minerva, said by the poets to have been bred up 
by hand. Dryden. 

** The prince had no wet nurse. 


Food that his inborn courage might controul^ 
Extinguish all the father in his soul. 
And for his Estian race, and Saxon strain. 
Might reproduce some Second Richard's reign. 
Mildness he shares from both his parents' blood ; 
But kings too tame are despicably good. 
Be this the mixture of this regal child. 
By nature manly, but by virtue mild. 

Thus far the furious transport of the news 
Had to prophetic madness fired the muse ; 
Madness ungovernable, uninspired, 
• Swift to foretel whatever she desired. 
Was it for me the dark abyss to tread. 
And read the book which angels cannot read ? 
How was I punish'd, when the sudden blast* 
The face of heaven, and our young sun, o'ercast ! 
Fame, the swift ill increasing as she roU'd, 
Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told. 
At three insulting strides she stalk'd the town. 
And, like contagion, struck the loyal down. 
Down fell the winnow'd wheat; but, mounted high, 
The whirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. 
Here black rebellion shooting from below, 
(As earth's gigantic brood by moments grow,) 
And here the sons of Grod are petrified with, woe. 
An apoplex of grief ! so low were driven 
The saints, as hardly to defend their heaven. 

As, when pent vapours run their hollow round. 
Earthquakes, which are convulsions of the ground. 
Break bellowing forth, and no confinement brook. 
Till the third settles what the former shook ; 
Such heavings had our souls, till, slow and late. 
Our life with his return'd, and faith ppevail'd on 

* The sudden false report of the prince's death. See Note VII. 


By prayers the mighty blessing was implored. 
To prayers was granted, and by prayers restored. 

So, ere the Shunamite a son conceived. 
The prophet promised, and the wife believed ; 
A son was sent, the son so much desired. 
But soon upon the mother's knees expired* 
The troubled seer approached the mournful door. 
Ran, pray'd, and sent his pastoral staff before. 
Then stretch'd hislimbsupon thechild,andmoum'd, 
Till warmth, and breath, and a new soul retum'A* 

Thus mercy stretches out her hand, and saves 
Desponding Peter, sinking in the waves. 

As when a sudden storm of hail and rain 
Beats to the ground the yet unbearded grain. 
Think not the hopes of harvest are destroyed 
On the flat field, and on the naked void ; 
The light, unloaded stem, from tempest freed. 
Will raise the youthful honours of his head ; 
And, soon restored by native vigour, bear 
The timely product of the bounteous year. 

Nor yet conclude all fiery trials past. 
For heaven will exercise us to the last ; 
Sometimes will check us in our full career. 
With dotibtful blessings, and with mingled fear. 
That, still depending on his daily grace. 
His every mercy for an alms may pass ; 
With sparing hands will diet us to good. 
Preventing surfeits of our pamper'd blood. 
So feeds the mother bird her craving young 
With little morsels, and delayfe them long. 

True, this last blessing was a royal feast ; 
But Where's the wedding-garment on the guest ? 
Our manners, as religion were a dream. 
Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. 

* 2 Kings, chap. iv. 


In lusts we wallow, and with pride we swell. 
And injuries with injuries repel ; 
Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive. 
Our lives unteach the doctrine we believe. 
Thus Israel sinn'd, impenitently hard. 
And vainly thought the present ark their guard ;* 
But when the haughty Philistines appear, "4 

They fled, abandon'd to their foes and fear ; >- 
Their God was absent, though his ark was there J 
Ah ! lest our crimes should snatch this pledge away. 
And make our joys the blessings of a day ! 
For we have sinn'd him hence, and that he lives, 
Grod to his promise, not our practice, gives. 
Our crimes would soon weigh down the guilty scale, 
But James and Mary, and the church prevail. 
Nor Amalekf can rout the chosen bands. 
While Hur and Aaron hold up Moses' hands. 

By living well, let us secure his days. 
Moderate in hopes, and humble in our ways. 
No force the free-born spirit can constrain. 
But charity, and great examples gain. 
Forgiveness is our thanks for such a day ; 
'Tis godlike God in his own coin to pay. 

But you, propitious queen, translated here, 
From your mild heaven, to rule our rugged sphere, 
Beyond the sunny walks, and circling year ; 
You, who your native climate have bereft 
Of all the virtues, and the vices left ; 
Whom piety and beauty make their boast. 
Though beautiful is well in pious lost ; 
So lost as star-light is dissolved away. 
And melts into the brightness of the day ; 
Or gold about the royal diadem, 
Lost, to improve the lustre of the gem, — 

* I Samuel, chap. iv. v. 10. 
f Exodus, chap. xvii. ▼• 8. 


What can we add to your triumphant day ? 
Let the mreat gift the beauteous giver pay ; 
For shomd our thanks awake the rising sun. 
And lengthen, as his latest shadows run 
That, though the longest day» would aooDi 

soon be done. 
Let angels' voices with their harps conspire^ 
But keep the auspicious in&nt from the 
Late let him sing above, and let us know 
No sweeter music than his cries below. 

Nor can I wish to you, great monarch, more 
Than such an annual income to your store ; 
The day, which gave this unit, did not shine . 
For a less omen, than to fill the trine. 
After a prince, an admiral beget ; 
The Royal Sovereign wants an anchor yet 
Our isle has younger titles still in store. 
And when the exhausted ]and can yield no more. 
Your line can force them from a foreign shore 

The name of great your martial mind will suit; 
But justice is your darling attribute. 
Of all the Greeks, 'twas but one hero's due,* 
And, in him, Plutarch prophesied of you. 
A prince's favours but on few can fall. 
But justice is a virtue shared by all. 

Some kings the name of conquerors have assumed, 
Some to be great, some to be gods presumed ; 
But boundless power, and arbitrary lust. 
Made tyrants still abhor the name of just ; 
They shunn'd the praise this godlike virtue gives, 
And fear'd a title that reproach'd their lives. 

The Power, from which all kings derive their 
Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate. 

"* Aristides. See his Life in Plutarch. 


Is equal both to punish and reward ; 

For few would love their God, unless they fear'd. 

Resistless force and immortality 
Make but a lame, imperfect deity ; 
Tempests have force unbounded to destroy. 
And deathless being even the damn'd enjoy ; 
And yet heaven's attributes, both last and first, 
One without life, and one with life accurst ; 
But justice is heaven's self, so strictly he. 
That could it fail, the godhead could not be. 
This virtue is your own ; but life and state 
Are, one to fortune subject, one to fate. 
£qual to all, you justly frown or smile ; 
Nor hopes nor fears your steady hand beguile 
Yi>urself our balance hold, the world's our 





Note L 

Hail, son of prayers ! by holy violence 
Drawn down from heaven ! P, 290. 

We have noticed, in the introduction, that the birth of a Prince 
of Wales, at a time of such critical importance to the Catholic 
faith^ was looked upon, by the Papists, as little less than miraca- 
lous. Some talked of the petition of the Duchess of Modena to 
Our Lady of Loretto ; and Burnet affirms, that, in that famous 
chapel, there is actually a register of the queen's conception, in 
consequence of her mother's vow. But, m that case, the good 
duchess's intercession must have been posthumous ; for she died 
upon the 19th July, and the queen's time run from the 6th of 
October. Others ascribed the event to the king's pilgrimage to St 
Winifred's Well ; and others, among whom was the Earl of Mel- 
fort, suffered their zeal to hurry them into profaneness, and spoke 
of the angel of the Lord moving the Bath waters, like the Pool 
of Bethsaida. But the Jesuits claimed to their own prayers the 
principal merit of procuring this blessing, which, indeed, they had 
ventured to prophesy ; for, among other devices which that order 
exhibited to the English ambassador from James to the Pope, 
there was, according to Mr Misson, one of a lily, from whose 
leaves distilled some drops of water, which were once supposed, by 


imturalifltfl, to become the seed of new lilies : the motto was — La^ 
ehrimor in prdem — '* I weep for children." Beneath which was 
the following distich ; — 

Pro natUt Jacobe, gemUiflot candide regttm ! 
Hos natma tibi H neget, attra dabunU 

Fov sqiw, fair noWe^ pf kings, whf melts thine eye ? 
The heavens shall grant what nature may deny. 

Ndte II. 

For, see the dragon rvin^Sd on his tvay^ 

To watch the travail, and devour the frey — P. 291. 

" And the dragon stood before the woman, who was ready to 
be delivered^ for to devour her child, as soon as it was born."— - 
Revel, xii. 4. Dryden is at pains, by an original marginal note, 
which^ with others^ is restored in this edition, to explain that, by 
this allusion here, and in other parts of the poem, he meant, /' the 
commonwealth's party." The acquittal of the bishops on the 
17th of June, two days before the poem was licensed, must have 
excited a prudential reverence for the church of England in the^ 
moment of her triumph. The poet fixes upon this commonwealth 
party therefore, exclusively, the common reports which had beea 
(urculated during the queen's pregnancy^ and which are thus no-« 
ticed in the (supposititious) letter to Father La Chaise: ''As to 
the queen's being with child, that great concern goes as well as 
we could wish, notwithstanding all the satirical discourses of the 
heretics, who content themselves to rent their poisons in libels, 
which^ by night, they disperse in the street, or fix upon the walls^ 
, There was one lately found upon a pillar of a church, that im- 
ported, that such a day thanks should be given to God for the 
queen's being great with a cushion. If one of these pasquil-ma- 
kers could be discovered, he would but have an ill time on't, and 
should be made to take his last farewell at Tyburn." 

The usual topics of wit, during the queen's pregnancy, were, 
allusions to a cushion^ a tympany, &c. &c. ; and Partridge, the 
Protestant almanack-maker, utters the following predictions :— ■ 
•* That there was some bawdy project on foot, either about buy- 
ing, selling, or procuring, a child or children, for some pious uses." 
And, again, " Some child is to be topped upon the lawful heirs^ 
to cheat them out of their right and estate." — God preserve the 
kingdom of England from invasion ! for about this time I fear it 
|p earnest, and keep the Protestants there from being dragooned.'* 

One single circumstance is sufficient to rout all suspicions thus 
carefully infused into the people. It is well known, and is ncK- 
ticed in one of L'Estrange's papers at the time, that a similar outr 
cry was raised during a former pregnancy of the queen ; bu^ thp 


child proving a female, there was no use for pushing the calunmy 
any further upon that occasion. 

Note III. 

Already has he lifted high the sigtiy 

Which crotvn'd tfie conquering arms of Constanline : 

The moon grows pale at that presaging sight. 

And half Iter train of stars have lost their lighi^^^V. 992, 

The public exercise of the Catholic religion hi Eneland is com- 
pared to the miraculous display of the cross, with the mottOy h 
hoc sigtio vinccs ; which is said to have appeared to Constantine 
on the eve of his great victory. 

The war against the Turks, which was now raging in Hungaiyi 
seems to have occupied much of James's attention. He amused 
himself with anxiety about the fate of this holy war&re^ as he pro- 
bably thought ity while his own crown was tottering on his head. 
In all his letters to the Prince of Orange, he expresses his wisZieC 
for the peace of Christendom, that the emperor and the Vene* 
dans might have leisure to prosecute the war against the Toris; 
and conjectures about the talking of Belgrade, and the progress of 
the Duke of Lorraine, arc very gravely sent, as interesting mat* 
ter, to the prince, who was anticipating the conquest of England, 
and the dethronement of his father-in-law. There may be some- 
thing of affectation in this ; but, as Dry den takes up the same 
tone, it may be supposed to have forwarded James's general cod« 
versation, as well as his letters to the Prince of Orange.— i&e Dal- 
RYMrL£*8 Memoirs, Appendix to Book V, 

Note IV. 

Behold another Sylvester to bless 

The sacred standard^ and secure success ; 

Large of his treasures^ of a soul so greats 

As Jills and crowds his universal seai.'^V, 292* 

Dryden talks of the Pope with the respect of a good Catholic. 
Nevertheless it happened, by a very odd chance, that, while the 
throne of England was held by a Catholic, for the first time during 
the course of a century, the chair of St Peter was occupied by 
Innocent XI. who acquired the uncommon epithet of the Protest* 
ant Pope. He received, with great coldness, the Earl of Castle- 
main, whom James sent to Rome as his ambassador, and refused the 
only two requests which a King of England had made to Rome since 
the days of Henry Vlil., although they were only a dispensation 
to Petre the king's confessor, to hold a bishopric, and another to the 
Mareschal D'Humier's daughter to marry within the prohibited de- 



grees. Nay, the Pope is said to have privately admitted the Prince 
of Orange's envoy to his confidence, while he treated Castlemaine 
■with so much contempt. The cause of this coldness was the 
Pope's quarrel with James's ally, Louis, and his dislike to the or- 
der of Jesuits, by whom the king of England was entirely ruled. 
In truth, Innocent XI. was much more anxious to maintain the 
privileges of the Roman see against those princes who retained 
tier communion, than to add England to a flock which was be- 
come so mutinous and intractable. He was, besides, a man of no 
extended views, and chiefly concerned himself with managing the 
papal revenue, involved in debt by a succession of wasteful pontifi- 
cates. To this the conversion of England promised no immediate 
addition, and, with the narrowness of view natural to his pursuits. 
Innocent XI. thought it better to employ his exertions in realizing 
an immediate income, than in endeavouring to extend the faith 
and authority of the church, by embarking in a design of great 
doubt and hazard. He was, therefore, but a very poor represen- 
tative of Pope Sylvester. As for the last two lin^s, they contain, 
what we seldom meet with in Dryden's poetry, a compliment 
not only bombastic, but unappropriate, and even unmeaning. 

Note V. 

Born in hroad day -light, that the ungrateful-rout 
Mayjind no roomfoif a remaining doubt, -^F, 293. 

In these lines, and the following, where the poet, with indecent 
freedom, compares the suspicions entertained of a spurious birth 
to the Devil's doubts concerning our Saviour's godhead, he al- 
ludes to those circumstances of publicity, which one would have 
supposed might have rendered the birth of the prince indisputable. 
It took place at ten o'clock in the morning ; and eighteen privy 
counsellors, besides a number of ladies, were present at the delivery. 
But the party violence of the period was so extravagant, as to re- 
ceive and circulate a variety of reports, inconsistent with each 
other, and agreeing only in the general conclusion, that the child 
was an imposition upon the nation. The reasoning of the Bishop 
of Salisbury, on this point, is admirably summed up by Smol- 


" On the loth of June, 1688, the queen was suddenly seized 
•with labour-pains, and deliveredof a son, who was baptized by the 
name of James, and declared Prince of Wales. All the Catholics 
and friends of James^were transported with the most extravagant 
joy at the birth of this child ; while great part of the nation con- 
soled themselves with the notion, that it was altogether supposi- 
titious. They carefully collected a variety of circumstances, upon 
which this conjecture was founded; and though they were incon- 

VOL. X. U 


sistenty contradictory, and inconclusive, the inference was so 
agreeable to the views and passions of the people, that it made an 
impression which^ in all probability^ will never be totally effaced. 
Dr Burnet, who seems to have been at uncommonpains to esta- 
blish this belief, and to have consulted all the Wni^ nurses in 
England upon Uie subject, first pretends to demonstrate, that the 
queen was not with child ; secondly, that she was with child, but 
miscarried ; thirdly, that a child was brought into the queen's 
apartment in a warming-pan ; fourthly^ that there was no child 
at all in the room ; fifthly, that the aueen actually bore a child, 
but it died that same day ; sixthly, tnat it had the fits* of which 
it died at Richmond; therefore, the Chevalier de St George 
must be the fruit of four different impostures." 

Note VI. 
Five months to discord and debate were ^t;en.— — P. 295. 

During the five months preceding the birth of the Chevalier de 
St George, James was wholly engaged by those feuds and dis- 
sentions which tended to render irreparable the breach between 
him and his subjects. The arbitrary attacks upon the privileges 
of Magdalen College, and of the Charter-House, fell nearly 
within this period* Above all, the petition of the seven bishops 
against reading the Declaration of Indulgence, their imprison- 
ment, their memorable trial and acquittal, had all taken place 
since the month of April ; and it is well known to what a state 
of violent opposition the nation had been urged by a train of ar- 
bitrary acts of violence, so imprudently commenced, and perverse- 
ly insisted in. Dry den, like other men of sense, probably began 
to foresee the consequences of so violent and general irritation ; 
and expresses himself in moderate and soothing lan^age, both 
as to the past and future. Nothing is therefore dropt which can 
offend the church of England. Perhaps they may have been 
spared by the royal command ; for it seems, as is hinted by a let- 
ter from Halifax to the Prince of Orange, that, not findmg his 
expectations answered by the dissenters^ whom he had so great- 
ly favoured of late, James entertained thoughts of returning to 
his old friends, the High. churchmen : '^ but the truth is," his 
lordship adds, " the Papists have of late been so hard and fierce 
upon them, that the very species of those formerly mistaking 
men is destroyed ; they have so broken that loom in pieces, that 
they cannot now set it up again to work upon it."— Dal- 
uymple's Memoirs* Appendix to Book V. 


Note VII. 

When the sudden blast, 

Thejhce of heaven^ and our young sun, o'ercastf 

FamCf the swift ill increasing as she rdVd, 

Disease f despair, and deaths at three reprises told.'^V. 297* 

There was, Dryden informs us, a report of the prince's death, 
to which he alludes.* James^ in a letter to the Prince of Orange^ 
dated June 12, mentions the birth of his son on the Sunday 
preceding, and adds^ ''the child was somewhat ill this last 
night, of the wind, and some gripes, but is now, blessed be God, 
very well, and like to have no returns of it, and is a strong boy." 
About this illness, Burnet tells the following gossipping story : 
•' That night, one Hemings, a very worthy man, an apothecary 
by his trade, who lived in St Martin's Lane, the very next door 
to a ^unily of an eminent Papist, (Brown, brother to the Vis« 
count Montacute, lived there ;) the wall between his parlour and 
their's being so thin, that he could easily hear any thing that was 
said with a louder voice, he (Hemings) was reading in his par- 
lour late at night, when he heard one come into the neighbour- 
ing parlour, and say, with a doleful voice, the Prince of Wales is 
dead: Upon whidi a great many that lived in the house came 
down stairs very quick. Upon this confusion he could not hear 
any thing more ; but it is plain they were in a great consterna- 
tion* He went with the news next morning to the bishops in 
the Tower. The Countess of Clarendon came thither soon after, 
and told them, she had been at the young prince*s door, but wa;? 
denied access : she was amazed at it ; and asked, if they knew 
her : they said, they did ; but tliat the queen had ordered, that 
no person whatsoever should be suffered to come in to him. This 
gave credit to Hemings' story ; and looked as if all was ordered 
to be kept shut up close, till another child was found. One, that 
saw the child two days after, said to me, that he looked strong, 
and not like a child so newly bom." 

The poem of Dryden plainly proves, that such a repprt was so 
far from being confined amon^ the Catholics, that it was spread 
over all the town ; and ^b^t the worthy Mr Hemings over-heard 
in his next neighbour's^ the Papist's, might probably have been 
heard in an^ company in London that evening, although tlie mode 
of communication would doubtless have been doleful or joyous, 
according to the party and religion of the news-bearer. 




• II 

• ; oao}: 'i 



/'i'n.i jM,'! 


The Prologue of the English drama was originally, like that of 
the ancients, merely a kind of argument of the play, instructing 
the audience concerning those particulars of the plot^ which were 
necessary in order to understand the opening of the piece. That 
this mignt be done more artificially^ it was often spoken in the cha- 
racter of some person connected with the preceding history of the 
intrigue^ though not properly one of the dramatis persorue. But 
when increasing refinement introduced the present mode of open- 
ing the action m the course of the play itself^ the prologue be- 
came a preliminary address to the audience^ bespeaking their at- 
tention and favour for the piece. The epilogue had always borne 
this last character^ being merely an extension of the ancient ** va^ 
lete et plaudiie y" an opportunity seized by the performers, after 
resignmg their mimic cnaracters, to pay their respects to the pub- 
lic in their own, and to solicit its approbation of their exertions. 
By degrees it assumed a more important shape, and was indulged 
in descanting upon such popular topics as were likely to interest 
the audience, even though less immediately connected with the 
actors' address of thanks, or the piece they had been performing. 
Both the prologue and epilogue had assumed their present cha- 
tacter so early as the days of Shakespeare and Jonson. 

With the revival of dramatic entertainments, after the Resto- 
ration, these addresses were revived also ; and a degree of conse- 
quence seems to have been attached to them in that witty age, 
which they did not possess before, and which has not since been 
given tq them. They were not only used to propitiate the au- 
uience ; to apologize for the players, or poet ; or to satirize the 
follies of the day, which is now their chief purpose ; but they 
became, during the collision of contending factions, vehicles of 
political tenets and political sarcasm, which could, at no time, 



be insinuated with more siicc^ss^ tlian when clothed in nervous 
verse^ and delivered with all the advantages of elocution to an 
audience^ whose numbers rendered the impression of poetry and 
eloquence more contagious. 

It is not surprising that Drjden soon obtained a complete and 
absolute supericx'ity^ in this style of composition^ over all who pre- 
tended to compete with him. While the harmony of his verse 
gave that advantage to the speaker^ which was wanting in tbe 
harsh, coarse, broken measure of his contemporaries, his powon 
of reasoning and of satire lefl them as far behind in sense as in 
sound. This superiority, and the great influence which he bad in 
the management of the theatre^ made it usual to invoke his as- 
sistance in the case of new plays ; many of which he accordingly 
furnished either with prologues or epilogues. The players Siao 
had recourse to him upon any remarkable occasion ; as^ wh«i a 
new house was opened ; when the theatre was honoured by a 
visit from the king or duke ; when they played at Oxford^ during 
the public acts ; or, in short, in all cases when an occasional pn>< 
logue was thought necessary to grace their performance* 

The collection of these pieces, which follows, is far from being 
the least valuable part of our author's labours. The variety and 
richness of fancy which they indicate, is one of Dryden's mmt 
remarkable poetical attributes. Whether the theme be^ the youth 
and inexperience, or the age and past services^ of the author ; the 
plainness or magnificence of a new theatre ; the superiority of an- 
cient authors, or the exaltation of tlie moderns ; the censure of 
political faction, or of fashionable follies; the praise of the mo- 
narch, or the ridicule of the administration ; the poet never fails 
to treat it with the liveliness appropiate to verses intended to be 
spoken, and spoken before a numerous assembly. The manner 
which Drydcn assumes, varies also with the nature of his au- 
dience. The prologues and epilogues, intended for the London 
stage, are writen in a tone of superiority, as if the poet, conscious 
of the justice of his own laws of criticism, rather imposed them 
upon the public as absolute and undeniable, than as standing in 
need of their ratification. And if he sometimes condescends to 
solicit, in a more humble style, the approbation of the audience, 
and to state circumstances of apology, and pleas of fevour, it is 
only in the case of other poets ; for, in the prologues of his own 
})lays, he always rather demands than begs their applause ; and 
if he acknowledges any defects in the piece, he takes care to in- 
timate, that they arc introduced in compliance with the evil taste 
of the age ; and that the audience must take the blame to them- 
selves, instead of throwing it upon the writer. This bold style 
of address, although it occasionally drew upon our author the 


charge of presumption^ was, nevertheless, so well supported by 
his perception of what was just in criticism, and his powers of de- 
fending even what was actually wrong, that a miscellaneous au- 
dience was, in general, fain to submit to a domination as success- 
fully supported as boldly claimed. In the Oxford prologues, on 
tl^e other hand, the audience furnished by that seat of the Muses, 
as ofmore competent judgment, are addressed with more respect- 
ful deference by the poet.* He seems, in these, to lay down his 
rules of criticism, as it were under correction of supenor judges ; 
and intermingles them with such compliments to the taste and 
learning of the members of the university, as he disdains to be- 
stow upon the motley audience of the metropolis. In one style^ 
Uie author seems dictating to scholars, whose conceit and pre- 
sumption must be lowered by censure, to make them sensible 
of their own deficiencies, and induce them to receive the offered 
instruction ; in the other, he seems to deliver his opinions before 
men, whom he acknowledges as his equals^ if not his superiors^ 
in the arts of which he is treating. And although Brown has very 
grossly charged Dryden with having affected, for the university, 
an esteem and respect which he was &x from really feeling ; and 
with having exposed its members, in their turn, to the ridicule of 
the London audience, whom he had stigmatized in his Oxford pro- 
logues as void of taste and judgment ; it is but fair to state, that no- 
rthing can be produced in proof of such an accusation.-j* In another 

* Our author*8 several modes of coaxing or buUjring the audience in the pio* 
logues, are ridiculed in the '* Rehearsal ;" where Bayes says, ** You must knt># 
there is in nature but two ways of making very good prologues ;— the one is, by 
civility, by insinuation, good language, and all that, to a in a manner 
steal your plaudit from the courtesy of the auditors : the other, by making use 
of 8ome certain personal things, which may keep a hank upon such censuring 
persons as cannot otherwise, egad, in nature, be hindered from being too free 
with their tongues.** 

j- The foUowing is the statement of the accusation in Tom*8 peculiar style, 
bemg a sort of cant jargon, not void of low humour : 

' ** Bayci* Now, there being but three remarkable places in the whole island ; 
that is, the two universities, and the great metropolitan dty ; I shall, consequent- 
ly, cthifine my discourse only to them : But, first of all, I must teU you, that I 
am altogether of my Lord Plausible^s opinion in the ' Plain Dealer ;* if I chance 
to commend any place, or order of men, out of pure friendship, I choose to do it 
before their faces ; and if I have occasion to speak ill of any person or place, out 
of a principle of respect and good manners, I do it behind their backs. You 
cannot imagine, Mr Critcs, when I visit either of the two universities, in my own 
person, or by my commissioners of the playhouse, how much I am taken with a 
ooUege life : Oh, there's nothing like a cheese cut out into farthings ! and my 
Lord Mayor, amidst all his brutal city luxury, does not dine half so well as a 
student upon a single chop of rotten roasted mutton ; nay, I can scarce prevail 


respect, the reader may remark a pleasing difierenoe between tbe 
Lond(Hi prologues and epilogues, and those spoken at Oxford. The 
licence of the times permitted, and even exacted from an author, 
in these compositicms, the indulgence of an indelicatie vein of ho- 

whh mjfldf, for a month or two after, to eat my meat od a plate, so great a re- 
spect have I for a miiTersity trendier ; and then their c on v e raation is so leanMi, 
aJMl withal so innocent, that I could dt a whole day together at a co fi ba> h oo« to 
hear them dinmte about aciui pcripicuif and forma nUtiL Prom thia ?ry!*ftff^ 
1 naturally fall a railing at London, with as much zeal as a BQdJiigham.shiie 
grazier, who had his poieket pidced at a Smithfield entertainment ; or a oounbj 
lady, whose obsecniious knight has spent his estate among misses, vintners, and 
linen-drapers; and then I tell my audience, that a man may walk fiotber in d» 
dty to meet a true judge of poetry, than ride his horse on Salisbury Plain to tad 
a house. 

London likes grossly, but this nicer pit 
Examines, fathoms, all the depths m wit. 

You sec here, Mr Crites, that «diolar8 won't take Alderman DnneomVi leadea 
halfpence for Irish half-crowns, while your dull Londoner swallows every thing { 
and takes it with as little consideration, as a true Romanist takes a qiiritual dsK 
of relicks, that are sealed up with the council of Trent^s ooat-of-arms. 

Eugen. How was that, Mr Bayes, about the council of Trent ? Pray, kt as 
hear it again. 

Bayes. Gad forgive me for^t !— it dropt from me ere I was aware ; but I shall 
in time wear off this hitching in my gait, and walk in Catholic trammels as wdl 
as the best of them ; nature, I must confess, is not overcome on the sudden— But 
let me see, gentlemen, whether I have any more lines to our last purpose ; ob, 
here they are I 

Poetry, which is in Oxford made 
An art, in London only is a trade. 
Our poet, could he find forgiveness here, 
Would wish it rather than a plaudit there. 

You are sensible, without question, how little beholden the city is to me, when I 
am upon nay progress elsewhere But *tis a comfort that this peremptory humour 
does not continue long upon me ; for, as I have the grace to disown my mother- 
university, with a jug in one hand, and a link in the other, when I am at Ox- 

Thebes did his green unknowing years engage ; 
He chuses Athens in his riper age,— > 

so, when I am got amongst my honest acquaintance here in Covent<Garden, I dis* 
own both the sisters, and make m3rsclf as merry as a grig, with their greasy trench- 
ers, rusty salt-sellers, and no napkins, with thdr everlasting drinking, and no in- 
tervals of fornication to relieve it. In fine, I make a great scruple of it, whether 


mour ; which, however humib'ating, is, in general, successful in a 
vulgar or mixed audi^ice, as turning upon subjects adapted to the 
meanest capacity* This continued even down to our times; for, 
till very lately, it was expected by the mobbish part of the au- 
dience, that thcr^r should be indemnified for the patience with 
wbidi they had listened to the moral lessons of a tragedy, by the 
indecency of the epilogue. In Dryden's time, this coarse raulery 
was carried to ^eat excess ; but our author, however culpable in 
other compositions, is, generally speaking, more correct than his 
eoatempcmuries in^ his prologues and epuogues. In the Oxford 
pieoes, particularly, where the decorum of manners, suited to that 
mother of learning, required him to abstain from all licentious al« 
luskm, Dryden has given some excellent specimens of how little 
he needed to rely upon this obvious and vulgar aid, for the amuses 
ment of his audience. Upon the whole, it will be difficult to find 
pieoes of this occasional nature so interesting and unexception- 
able as those spoken at Oxford. They are, as they ought to be, 
by far the most laboured and correct which our author gave to 
the stage. It may not be improper to add, that the players were 
only permitted to visit Oxfbrd during the Public Acts, which 
were frequently celebrated on occasions of public rejoicing. They 
acted, it would appear, in a Tennis-court, fitted up as an occa- 
sional theatre ; and the prologues and epilogues of Dryden tend- 
ed doubtless greatly to conciuate the favour of an audience, con^* 
sistmg of all tliat was learned in the generation then mature, and 
all that was hopeful in that which was rising to succeed it. 

The more miscellaneous prologues and epilogues of Dryden are 
not without interest. In ridiculing the vices or follies of the age, 
they often touch upon circumstances illustrative of manners ; 
ana certainly, though the modem theatres of the metropolis are 
so ill regulated, as nearly to exclude modest females from all 
the house, except the private boxes, their decorum is superior 
to that of their predecessors. If we conceive the boxes filled 
with women, whose masks levelled all distinction between the 
wcmian of fashion and the courtezan ; the galleries crowded with 
a rabble, more ferocious and ignorant than its present inmates ; 

it be possible for a man to write sound heroics, and make an accomplished tho- 
rough-paced wit, unless he comes to refine and cultivate himself at London ; un- 
less he knows how many stories high the houses are in Chcapside and Fleet-street ; 
is acquainted with aU the gaming ordinaries about town, and the rates of porters 
and hackney-coachmen ; has shot the bridge ; seen the tombs at Westminster ; 
beard the Woodon-head speak ; can tell you where the iosuring-officc is kept ; 
and which of the twelve companies has the honour of pi;eccdencc.*' 

The Reatorufor Mr Bayes changing his Religion, p. 10. 


the pit occupied by drunken bulHes^ wboee munds perpetoaDj 
interrupted the performers^ and often ended in bloodsbed^ and 
even murder^ upon the spot ; we shall have occasion to omgnh 
tulate ourselves upon being at least in the way of refbrmatUNk 
These enormities of his time> Dryden has pointed out, and cen- 
sured in his strong and nervous satire. It is to be r^retted, that 
his painting is often coarse, aud sometimes intentionally licen- 
tious ; although, as has been already observed, more seldom so 
than that of most of his contemporanet. The historical antiquary 
may also glean some observations on the state of parties, from 
those pieces which turn upon the politics of the day; and there 
occur numerous hints, which may be useful to an historian of 
the drama. Thus the Prologues and Epilogues form no improper 
supplement to Dryden's Historical Poetry. 

It remains to say, that all these prologues and epilognes wer^ 
according to the f u/stom of that time, printed on single leaves, or 
broadsides, as they are called, and sold by the hawkers at the door 
of the theatres. Some of these, but very few, have been pre* 
served by Mr Luttrell, in the collection belonging to Mr Bindley. 
If a set of them existed, I think it probable they would be found 
to contain many variations from those editions, whidn the more 
mature reflection of the author gave to the world in the Misod-. 
lanies. But the loss is the less to be lamented, as, in general, the 
original editions which I have seen are not only more inacQirate^ 
but coarser ai)d more licei)tious, than those which Dryden 6^ 
nally adopted. In the original prologue of Circe, which is 
printed in this edition, for example, the reader will find, that,, 
in place of the well-known apology for an author's first pro- 
duction, by an appeal to those of Shakespeare, Fletcher, and 
Jonson, his youth is only made the subject of some common- 
place raillery. Indeed, so little value did Dryden himself set 
upon these occasional effusions before they were collected, and 
so little did he consider them as entitled to live in the recol- 
lection of the public, that, on one occasion at least, but probably 
upon several, he actually transferred the same prologue from one 
new play to another. Thus he reclaimed, from his adversary 
Shadwell's play of ** The True Widow," the prologue which he 
had furnished, and affixed it to the " Widow Ranter" of Mrs 
Behn. Sometimes also he laid under contribution former publi- 
cations of his own, which he supposed to be forgotten, in ord^ 
to furnish out one of these theatrical prefaces. Thus the satire 
against the Dutch furnishes the principal part of the prologue 
and epilogue to " Amboyna." 

Inaccurate as they seem to have been, the original editions 
might have proved useful in arrangingthe prologues and epilogues 
according to their exact dates, which, where they are not attach- 


ed to any particujat play^ can now only be assigned from internal 
evidence. But absolute accuracy in this pointy though no doubt 
desirable if it can be obtained^ does not appear to be a point of 
any serious moment ; and^ after haying b^towed considerable 
pains^ the Editor will neither be much ashamed, nor inconsolably 
sorry, to find, that some of the prologues and epilogues have been 
misplaced in the order which ne has adopted. 






in January y 1671-2, the play-house in Thury'Lanef occupied by 
the King's Company , tookjlre, and was entirely destroyed, with 
jifty or sixty adjoining houses, which were either involved in the 
cofiflagration, or blown up to stop its progress. During the re* 
building of this theatre, the King's servants acted in the old house 
in Lincoln's" Inn-Fields, ThejoUowing Prologue announces the 
distressed situation of the company on their retreat to this tent" 
porary asylum. The sixth couplet alludes to the recent desertimi 
of the tiincoln'S'Inn theatre, by the rival company, called the 
Duke's, who were now acting at one in Dorset Gardens, splen- 
didly Jitted up under the direction of Sir William D'Avenant. 

^o shipwreck'd passengers escaped to land, 

So look they, when on the bare beach they stand, 

Dropping and cold, and their first fear scarce o'er, 

Expecting famine on a desert shore. 

From that hard climate we must wait for bread, 

Whence even the natives, forced by hunger, fled. 

Our stage does human chance present to view. 

But ne'er before was seen so sadly true : 

You are changed too, and your pretence to see 

Is but a nobler name for charity. 

Your own provisions furnish out our feasts. 

While you, thefounders, make yourselves the guests. 


Of all mankind beside, fate had some care. 
But for poor Wit no portion did prepare, 
'Tis left a rent-charge to the brave and fair. 
You cherish'd it, and now its fall you mourn. 
Which blind unmanner'd zealots make their scorn, 
Who think that fire a judgment on the stage. 
Which spared not temples* in its furious rage. 
But as our new-built city rises higher, ^ "1 

So from old theatres may new aspire, /• 

Since fate contrives magnificence by fire. 3 

Our great metropolis does far surpass 
Whate'er is now, and equals all that was : 
Our wit as far does foreign wit excel. 
And, like a king, should in a palace dwell. 
But we with goklen hopes are vainly fed. 
Talk high, and entertain you in a shed : 
Your presence here, for which we humbly sue^ 
Will grace old theatres, and build up new. ' -« 

* St Paul's, and other churches^ were consumed in the great 
fire, then a recent event. 



tee women, when they acted at the old theatrfi, 


Female performers were JirH introduced after the Restoration. 
They became speedily acceptable to the court and the public. 
The dramatic poets mere in so many mays indebted to them, that 
occasional exertions^ dedicated to their benefit ^ as I presume thefoU 
lowing to have been, were but a suitable return for various fovours 
received. Our author's intimacy with the beautiful Mrs Reeves 
particularly called forth his talents in behalf of these damsels, 
distressed as they must have been by the unlucky burning of the 
theatre in Drury-Lane. The Prologue occurs^in the miscella-' 
nies ; bid is, I know not tohy, ondtted by Derrick in his edition 
of Dry dens poems, 

^ERE none of you, gallants, e'er driven so hard, 
As when the poor kind soul was under guard. 
And could not do't at home, in some by-street 
To take a lodging, and in private meet ? 
3uch is our case ; we can't appoint our house. 
The lovers' old and wonted rendezvous. 
But hither to this trusty noqk remove ; 
The worse the lodging is, the more the love. 
For much good pastime, many a dear sweet hug. 
Is stolen in garrets, on the humble rug. 
Here's good accommodation in the pit ; 
The grave demurely in the midst may sit, 

VOL. X. X 


And so the hot Burgundian* on the side. 

Ply vizard mask, and o'er the benches stride. 

Here are convenient upper boxes too. 

For those that make the most triumphant show 

All, that keep coaches, must not sit below. 

There, gallants, you betwixt the acts retire. 

And, at dull plays, have something to admire. 

We, who look up, can your addresses mark. 

And see the creatures coupled in the ark : 

So we expect the lovers, braves, and wits ; 

The gaudy house with scenes f will serve for cits. 

* That is^ the consumer of Burgundy^ or drunken bully of the 

t Dorset-Garden theatre, where the Duke'n company aded 
THrious phewy pieces^ directed by D^Ayenaqt. 




MARCH 26, 1674. 

The Drury'Lane theatre, after being burned in 1671-2, was rc- 
buiU upon a plan furnished by Sir Christopher Wren^ who SU" 
perintended the execution. It is said to have been most admi' 
rably planned, but spoiled by some injudicious alterations in the 
course of building, TheJbUowing Prologue informs us, that the 
exterior decorations were plain and simple in comparison to those 
of the rival house in Dorset Gardens, which, as repeatedly no* 
ticed, had been splendidly fitted Up under the direction qfiyAve' 
nant, noted for his attachment to stage pomp and shew. It 
appears that Charles II,, who was possessed of considerable 
taste, and did not disdain to interest himself in the affairs of the 
drama, had himself recommended to the King's company, the 
simplicity and frugality of scenery and ornament to whiph the 
poet alludes. TJie other house werfi not unapt to boast of the su* 
perior splendour which is here conceded to them. In the epilogue 
to " Psyche," the actors boast ^ 

•Gallants, you can tdl. 

No foreign stage can o«m in pomp excel ; 
And here none e'er shall treat you half so welL 
Poor players have this day such splendour shown, 
Whkii yet but by great monarchs has been done. 

lyAvenant, by whom the Duk^s company were long directed, was 

the first who introduced regular scenery upon a public stage. 

His drama of the ^* Siege of Rhodes" seems to nave been the 

first exhibited with these decorations.'^See Malone's Account 

of the English Stage. 

A PLAIN-BUILT house, after so long a stay. 
Will send you half unsatisfied away ; 
When, faU'n from your expected pomp, you find 
A bare convenience only is designed. 


You, who each day can theatres behold. 
Like Nero's palace, shining all with gold. 
Our mean ungilded stage will scorn, we fear. 
And, for the homely room, disdain the chear. 
Yet now cheap dniggets to a mode are grown, "I 
And a plain suit, since we can make but one, > 
Is better than to be by tarnish'd gawdry known. ) 
They, who are by your favours wealthy made. 
With mighty sums may carry on the trade ; 
We, broken bankers, half destroyed by fire. 
With Qur small stock to humble roofs retire 
Pity our loss, while you their pomp admire. 
For fame and honour we no longer strive ; 
We yield in both, and only beg — to live ; 
Unable to support their vast expence. 
Who build and treat with such magnificence. 
That, like the ambitious liionarchs of the age. 
They give the law to our provincial stage. 
Great neighbours enviously promote excess, 
While they impose their splendour on the less ; 
But only fools, and they of vast estate. 
The extremity of modes will imitate. 
The dangling knee-fringe, and the bib-cravat. 
Yet if some pride with want may be allow'd. 
We in our plainness may be justly proud ; 
Our Royal Master will'd it should be so ; 
Whate'er he's pleased to own, can need no show. 
That sacred name gives ornament and grace. 
And, like his stamp, makes basest metal pass. 
'Twere folly now a stately pile to raise. 
To build a playhouse while you throw down plays; 
While scenes, machines, and empty operas reign, 
And for the pencil you the pen disdain ; 
While troops of famish'd Frenchmen hither drive, 
And laugh at those upon whose alms they live. 
Old English authors vanish, and give place 
To these new conquerors of the Norman race. 


\, More tamely than your fathers you submit ; 
P You're now grown vassals to them in your wit. 
f; Mark, when they play, how our fine fops advance 
I The mighty merits of their men of France, 

Keep time, cry, JSon ! and humour the cadence. 

Well, please yourselves ; but sure *tis understood, 

That French machines have ne*er done England 

I would not prophecy our house's fate ; 

But while vain shows and scenes you over-rate, 

*Tis to be feared^ ^ 

That, as a fire the former house overthrew. 

Machines and tempestsf will destroy the new.] 

* St Andre, the famous ballet dancer^ composed dances for 

k * many operas about this time^ which were probably performed by 

fc'; his hght-footed countrymen/at Dorset-Gardens. 

C 't ** ^^ 1673, the * Tempest, or the Enchanted Island,' made 

into an opera by Mr Shadwell, having all new in it, as scenes, 

. machines, &c. : one scene painted with myriads of serial spirits ; 

- and others flying away wim a table furnished with fruits, sweet- 

. meats, and lul sorts of viands, just when Duke Trinculo and his 

' company were going to dinnes. All things were performed so 

admurably well^ that not any succeeding opera could get any 

money." — Roscius Anglkanus, p. 34. Shadwell had also, about 

. this Ume, produced his opera of " Psyche," which, with the 

" Tempest" and other pieces depending chiefly upon shew and 

scenery, were acting in Dorset-Garden, when this Prologue was 

written* In order to ridicule these splendid esiiibitions, the 

company at Drury-Lane brought forward parodies on them, such 

as the «♦ Mock Tempest," " Psyche Debauched," &c. These 

pieces, though written in the meanest style by one Duffet, a low 

buffoon, had a transient course of success. 




Though what our Prologue said was sadly true," 
Yet, gentlemen, our homely house is new, 
A charm that seldom fails with wicked you. 
A country lip may have the velvet touch ; 
Though she's no lady, you may think her such 
A strong imagination may do much. 
But you, loud sus, who through your curls look big, 
Critics in plume and white valiancy wig. 
Who, lolling, on our foremost benches sit. 
And still charge first, the true forlorn of wit ; 
Whose favours, like the sun, warm where you roll. 
Yet you, like him, have neither heat nor soul ; 
So may your hats your foretops never press, 
Untouch'd your riblDons, sacred be your dress ; 
So may you slowly to old age advance. 
And have the excuse of youth for ignorance ; 
So may Fop-corner full of noise remain. 
And drive far off the dull, attentive train ; 
So may your midnight scourings happy prove. 
And morning batteries force your way to love ; 


JSo may not France your warlike hands recal. 
But leave you by each other's swords to fall,* 
As you come here to ruffle vizard punk, 
When sober rail, and roar when you are drunk* 
But to the wits we can some merit plead. 
And urge what by themselves has oft been said. 
Our house relieves the ladies from the frights 
Of ill-paved streets, and long dark winter nights ; 
The Flanders horses from a cold bleak road. 
Where bears in furs dare scarcely look abroad ;f 
The audience from worn plays and fustian stuff. 
Of rhyme, more nauseous than three boys in bufF4 
Though in their house the poets' heads || appear. 
We hope we mav presume their wits are here* 
The best which they reserved they now will play,"^ 
For, like kind cuckolds, though we've not the way >• 
To please, we'll find you abler men who may» J 
If they should fail, for last recruits we breed 1 
A troop of frisking monsieurs to succeed ; > 

Vou know the French sure cards at time of need. ) 

4 ■ ■ ' I < I 1^— — ^— i 

* This sterns to be an allusion to the recent death of Mr 
Scroop^ a tnan of fottune^ who^ about this time, was stabbed in 
the theatre at Dorset-Gardens by Sir Thomas Armstrong, after- 
wards the confidential friend of the Duke of Monmouth. Lang- 
baine 8ays> he witnessed this real tragedy^ which happened du- 
ring the representation of " Macbeth/' as altered aiid revised by 
D'Avenant in l674u Mr Scroop died immediately after his re- 
tnoval into a neighboiuring house* 

t Alluding to uie recent establishment in LincolnVlnn-Fields, 
then separated from the city by a large vacant space. 

X *' The three boys in bufP," were, I believe^ the three Bold 
Beauchamps in an old ranting play : 

*^ Th« three bold BeiuicfatinpB thall revive again. 
And, with the Loudon Prentice, conquer Spain." 

§ Some part of the ornaments of D' Avenant's scenes probably 
presented the portraits of dramatic writers. 





Hartf tioho had been a captain in the Civil Wars, belonged to Ih 
King's company. He xvas an excellent actors and particuktriu 
celebrated tn the character of Othello. He left the siage, accord* 
ing to Cibber^ on the union of the companies in 1686. But it 
appears from a paper published in a note on the article *^ Bettef" 
ton" in the Biographia, that he retired fn l681^ upon receiving a 
pension Jrom Dr D'Avenant, then manager of the JDuke's com' 
pany^ tvho in this manner bought off both Hart and Kynaston, 
ana greatly weakened the opposite set. 

Poets, your subjects, have their parts assigned. 
To unbend, and to divert their sovereign's mind ; 
When tired with following nature, vou think fit 
To seek repose in the cool shades of wit, 
And, from the sweet retreat, with joy survey 
What rests, and what is conquer'd, of the way. 
Here, free yourselves from envy, care, and strife. 
You view the various turns of human life ; 
Safe in our scene, through dangerous courts you go. 
And, undebauch'd, the vice of cities know. 
Your theories are here to practice brought. 
As in mechanic operations wrought ; 
And man, the little world, before you set. 


As once the sphere of crystal* shew'd the great. 

Blest sute are you above all mortal kind. 

If to your fortunes you can suit your mind ; 

Content to see, and shun, those ills we show, 

And crimes on theatres alone to know. 

"With joy we bring what our dead authors writ, 

And beg from you the value of their wit : 

^hat Shakespeare's, Fletcher's, and great Jonson's 

May be renew'd from those who gave the fame. 
ISTone of our living poets dare appear ; 
For muses so severe are worshipp'd here, 
That, conscious of their faults, they shun the eye. 
And, as profane, from sacred places fly. 
Rather than see the offended God, and die. 
We bring no imperfections, but our own ; 
Such faults as made are by the makers shown ; 
And you have been so kind, that we may boast. 
The greatest judges still can pardon most. 
Poets must stoop, when they would please our pit, 
Debased even to the level of their wit ; 
Disdaining that, which yet they know will take. 
Hating themselves what their applause must make. 
But when to praise from you they would aspire. 
Though they, like eagles, mount, your Jove is higher. 
So far your knowledge all their power transcends, 
As what should be, beyond what is, extends. 

♦ Its properties are thus described by Spenser :— - 

It vertue hath to show in perfect sight 

Whatever thing was in the world containM, 
Betwixt the lowest earth and heaven's height. 

So that it to the looker appertain'd. 
Whatever foe had wrought, or friend designM, 

Therein discovered was ne ought mote pass, 
Ne ought in secret from the same remainM, 

Forthy it round, and hollow-shaped was, 
Like to the world itself, and seem'd a world of glass. 

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

Fairy Qucen^ Book iii. Cante 2. 




Tke date of this Epilogue i$Jixed hy that qf^Bathurst's tnce-chu* 
cellorship, which lasted from Sd October, 167 3^ to Qth Octdbefi 

Oft has our poet wished this happy seat 
Might prove his fading Muse's last retreat : 
I wonder'd at his wish, but now I find 
He sought for quiet, and content of mind ; 
Which noiseful towns, and courts, can never know, 
And only in the shades, like laurels, grow. 
Youth, ere it sees the world, here studies rest. 
And age, returning thence, concludes it best. 
What wonder if we court that happiness 
Yearly to share, which hourly you possess. 
Teaching e*en you, while the vext world we show, 
Your peace to value more, and better know ? 
'Tis all we can return for favours past. 
Whose holy memory shall ever last. 
For patronage from him whose care presides 
O'er every noble art, and every science guides ;* 

* Ralph Bathursty thus highly distinguished by our author, was 
a distinguished character of the age. He was uncle to Allen, the 


Bathurst, a name the leam'd with reverence know, 
And scarcely more to his own Virgil owe ; 
Whose age enjoys but what his youth deserved. 
To rule those Muses whom before he served. 
His learning, and untainted manners too. 
We find, Athenians, are derived to you ; 
Such ancient hospitality there rests 1 

In yours, as dwelt in the first Grecian breasts, >- 
"Whose kindness was religion to their guests. J 
Sudi modesty did to our sex appear. 
As, had tiiere been no laws, we need not 
Since each of you was our protector here 


fintTfOrd Bathurst. He was born in 1620, and bred to the church, 
but abandoned divinity for the pursuit of medicine^ which he prac-^ 
tised until the Restoration^ when he resumed his clerical charac* 
ter. In l663 he became head of Trinity college, Oxford, inj» the 
court and chapel of which he introduced the beauties of classi-* 
cal architecture, to rival, if it were possible, the magnificence of 
the Gothic edifices by which it is surrounded. In 1673, he had 
the honour to be appointed vice-chancellor ; an office which he 
retained for two years. During his execution of this duty he is 
said to have reformed many abuses which had crept into the uni- 
versity ; and by liberal benefactions added considerably to the 
prosperity of literature. Anthony Wood, who had some private 
reason for disliking him, and who, moreover, was as determined 
an enemy to the fair sex as ever harboured in a cloister, picked 
a quarrel with Bathurst's wife, as he could find no reasonable fault 
with the vice-chancellor himself. *' Dr Bathwrst took his place 
of vice-chancellor ; a man of good parts, and able to do good 
things ; but he has a wife that scorns that he should be in print ; 
a scornful woman ! scorns that he was dean of Wells. No need of 
marrying such a woman, who is so conceited, that she thinks 
herself fit to govern a college, or university."— Perhaps the coun- 
tenance given by Bathurst to the theatre, for which Dryden 
here expresses his gratitude, might not tend to conciliate the good 
will of Anthony, who quarrelled with his sister-in-law by refusing 
to treat her to the play. But it agreed well with the character of 
Bathurst, who was not only a patron of literature in all its branch- 
es, but himself an excellent Latin poet, as his verses prefixed to 
Hobbes' " Leviathan/' fully testify ; and as good an English poet 



Converse so chaste, and so strict virtue shown^ 
As might Apollo with the Muses own. 
Till our return we must despair to find 
Judges so just, so knowing and so kind. 

Bs most of his contemporaries. He died m his eighty-fourth year, 
ITO'k Warton has siven us the foUowing character of his Latin 
compositions, for wnich Dryden has celebrated him so highly : 
" His Latin orations are wonderful specimens of wit and antithe- 
sis, which were the delight of his age. They want, upon the 
whole, the purity and simplicity of Tully's eloquence, but even 
exceed the sententious smartness of Seneca, and the mirprising 
turns of Pliny. They are perpetually spirited, and discover an 
uncommon quickness of thought. The manner is concise and 
abrupt, but yet perspicuous and easy : His allusions are delicate, 
and his observations sensible and animated ; his sentiments of con- 
gratulation, or indignation, are equally forcible : bis oompliments 
are most elegantly turned, and his satire is most ingeniously se* 
vere.* These compositions are extremely agreeable to read, but^ 
in the present improvement of classical taste, not so proper to be 
imitated." — Life of Batkursi, prefixed to his Litemry Ilemauu, 
published under the inspection of Mr Warton* 





Dr Charles UAvenant, iJie author of *• Circe y* was son of the Rare 
Sir William lyAvenant, whom he succeeded as manager of th^ 
Duke* s company* He practised physic in Doctor's Commons, which 
he afterwards abandoned for politics. He became a member of 
Parliament, and inspector of the exports and imports, qf'vohich of- 
fice he died possessed in 1714« He wrote many tracts uponpoUli" 
cal subjects, especially those connected with the revenue. *' Circe," 
his only drama, is an opera, to which Bannister composed the mu- 
sic. JSesides the Prologue by our author, it was honoured hy^ an 
Epilogue by the famous Rochester, and thus graced^ urns received 
favourably. It contains some good writing, considering it was 
composed dt the age of nineteen ; a circumstance alluded to in the 
following Prologue. The original Prologue is from the ^o edi- 
tion of " Circe," London, 1677- It was afterwards much im-^ 
proved, or rather entirely re-written, by our author. 

fTERE you but half so wise as you're severe, ' 
Our youthful poet should not need to fear ; 
To his green years your censures you would suit, 
Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit. 
The sex, that best does pleasure understand. 
Will always chuse to err on t'other hand. 


They check not him that's awkward in delight, 
But dap the young rogue's cheek, and set him right. 
Thus hearten'd well, and flesh*d upon his prey. 
The youth may prove a man another day. 
For your own sakes, instruct him when he's out, 
You'll find him mend his work at every bout. 
When some young lusty thief is passing by, ^ 
How many of your tender kind will cry, — V 
" A proper fellow ! pity he should die ! 3 

He might be saved, and thank us for our pains. 
There's such a stock of love within his veins." 
These arguments the women may persuade. 
But move not you, the brothers of the trade. 
Who, scattering your infection through the pit, ^ 
With aching hearts and empty purses sit, >• 

To take your dear five shillings worth of wit. 3 
The praise you give him, in your kindest mood. 
Comes dribbling from you, just like drops of blood; 
And then you clap so civilly, for fear 
The loudness might offend your neighbour's ear, 
That we suspect your gloves are lined within. 
For silence sake, and cotton'd next the skin. 
From these usurpers we appeal to you. 
The only knowing, only judging few ; 
You, who in private have this play allow'd. 
Ought to maintain your suffrage to the crowd. 
The captive, once submitted to your bands. 
You should protect from death by vulgar hands. 



vV^ERE you but half so wise as you*re severe. 
Our youthful poet should not need to fear ; 
To his green years your censures you would suit, 
Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit. 
The sex, that best does pleasure understand, 
Will always choose to err on t'other hand. 
They check not him that's awkward in delight, 
But clap the young rogue's cheek and set him right. 
Thus hearten'd well, and flesh'd upon his prey. 
The youth may prove a man another day. 
Your Ben and Fletcher, in their first young flight, 
Did no Volpone, nor no Arbaces write ; * 
But hopp'd about, and short excursions made ^ 
From bough to bough, as if they were afraid, > 
And each was guilty of some Slighted Maid, f S 
Shakespeare's own muse her Pericles first bore ; | 
The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor. 

* Characters in Jonson's *^ Volpone/' and Fletcher's " King 
and no King," which plays are justly held the master-pieces of 
these authors. 

t The '* Slighted Maid" was a contemporary drama^ written 
by Sir Richard Stapylton^ of which Dryden elsewhere takes oc^ 
casion to speak in terms of contempt. See the Parallel ietmixt 
Poetry and Painting, 

X This opinion seems to be solely founded on the inferiority 
of " Pericles," to the other plays of Shakespeare ; an inferiority 
80 greats as to warrant very strong doubts of its being the \egu 
timate offspring of his muse at all. 


'Tis miracle to see a first good play ; 
All hawthorns do not bloom on Christmas- day. * 
A slender poet must have time to grow. 
And spread and burnish as his brothers do. 
Who still looks lean, sure with some pox is curst, 
But no man can be FalstafF-fat at first. 
Then damn not, but indulge his rude essays. 
Encourage him, and bloat nim up with praise, 
That he may get more bulk before he dies ; 
He*s not y^t fed enough for sacrifice. 
Perhaps, if now your grace you will not grudge. 
He may grow up to write, and you to judge. 

* Alluding to the legend of the Glastonbury thorn, supposed 
1^ bloom on Christmas-day, 



When calisto was acted at court^ in 1675« 


•* Calisto, or the Chaste Nymph" mas a masque written hy John 
Crorvnef who, by the inlerjerence of Rochester ^ was employed to 
compose sUch an entertainment to be exhibited at court, though 
this was an encroachment on the office of Dry den, the poet laureate 
The principal character's were represented by the daughters of the 
Duke of York, and thejirst nobUUy* The Lady Mary, afterwards 
Queen^ to whom the masque was dedicated, acted Calisto s Nyphe 
was represented by the Lady Anne, who also Succeeded io the 
throne; Jupiter, by Lady Harriot Wentworth; Psecas, by Lady 
Mary Mordaunt; Diana, by Mrs Blague ; and Mercury, by Mrs 
Sarah Jennings^ afterwards Duchess of Marlborough. Among 
tha attendant nymphs and dancers were the Countess of Pembroke 
and of Derby, Lady Catharine Herbert, Mrs Fitzgerald, and 
Mrs Fraser. The male dancers were the Duke of Monmouih, 
Viscount Dunblaine^ Lord Daincourt^ and others qfthejiirst qua* 
lity. Although the exhibition of this masque, which it foas the 
privilege of his office to have written, must have been somewhat 
galling to Dry den, we see that he so Jar suppressed his feelings 
as to compose the following Epilogue, which, to his farther mor* 
tification, was rejected, through the interference of Rochester, 

The Lady Henrietta Maria Wentworth, Baroness of Nettlested, who 
acted the part of Jupiter on the present occasion, afterwards adapt* 
ed her conduct to that of Calisto, and became the mistress of the 
Duke of Monmouth, lie tioas so passionately attached to her, that 
upon the scaffold he vindicated their intercourse by some very warm 
and enthusiastic expressions, and could by no means be prevailed 
on to express any repentance of it as unlawful. This lady died 
about a year ajier the execution of her unfortunate l(yoer, in 1685. 
Her mother. Lady Wentworth, ordered a monument qfL,2000 
value to be erected over her in the church of Teddington^ Bed* 

jQls Jupiter I made my court in vain ; 
ril now assume my native shape again. 

VOL. X. Y 


I'm weary to be so unkindly used, 

And would not be a God, to be refused. 

State grows uneasy when it hinders love ; 

A glorious burden, which the wise remove. 

Now, as a nymph, I need not sue, nor try 

The force of any lightning but the eye. 

Beauty and youth, more than a god command ; 

No Jove could e'er the force of these withstand. 

'Tis here that sovereign power admits dispute ; 

Beauty sometimes is justly absolute. 

Our sullen Cato's, whatsoe'er they say, 

Even while they frown and dictate laws, obey. 

You, mighty sir, our bonds more easy make. 

And, gracefully, what all must suffer, take ; 

Above those forms the grave affect to wear. 

For 'tis not to be wise to be severe. 

True wisdom may, some gallantry admit. 

And soften business with the charms of wit. 

These peaceful triumphs with your cares you bought, 

And from the midst of fighting nations brought. * 

You only hear it thunder from afar. 

And sit, in peace, the arbiter of war. 

Peace, the loath'd manna, which hot brains despite, 

You knew its worth, and made it early prize ; 

And in its happy leisure, sit and see 

The promises of more felicity ; 

Two glorious nymphs of your own godlike line. 

Whose morning rays, like noontide, strike and 

shine ; f 
Whom you to suppliant monarchs shall dispose, 
To bind your friends, and to disarm your foes. 

* The war between France and the Confederates was now ra- 
ging on the Continent. 

f The glorious nymphs, afterwards Queens Anne and Mary, 
both lived to exclude their own father and his son from the throne. 
Derrick, I suppose, alluded to this circumstance, when in Ae 
ne- ' line he read supplant for suppliant monarchs. 






This play, which long mamtained a high degree of reputation on the 
stage, presents us with the truest picture of what was esteemed good 
Breeding and wit in the reign of Charles II, All the characters, 
from Dorimant down to the Shoemaker, were either really drawn 
Jrom the life, or depicted so accurately according to the manners of 
the timeSf that each was instantly ascribed to some individuaL Sir 
Fopling Flutter, in particular, was supposed to represent Sir George 
Hewity mentioned in the Essay on Satire, and who seems to have 
been one of the most choice coxcombs of the period, A very severe 
criticism in the Spectator^ pointing out the coarseness as well as 
the immorality of this celebrated performance, had a great effect in 
diminishing tts popularity. The satire being in fact personal, it 
followed as a matter of course, that the Prologue should disclaim 
aU personality, that being an attribute to be discovered by the au- 
dience, but not avowed by the poet* Dry den has accomplished this 
with much liveliness, and enumerates for our edification the spe» 
cial fopperies which went to make up a complete fine gentleman 
in 1676 — differing only in form from those required in 1806, ex^ 
cepting that the ancient beau needed, to complete his character^ a 
sRght sprinkling of literary accomplishment, Hiohich the modem 
has discarded with the " sacred periwig," 

Most modem wits such monstrous fools have 

They seem not of heaven's making, but their own. 


Those nauseous Harlequins in farce may pass ; 
But there goes more to a substantial ass ; 
Something of man must be exposed to view. 
That, gallants, they may more resemble you. 
Sir Fopling is a fool so nicely writ. 
The ladies would mistake him for a wit ; 
And, when he sings, talks loud,and cocks, would cry, 
I vow, methinks, he's pretty company I 
So brisk, so gay, so travell'd, so refined. 
As he took pains to graff upon his kind. 
True fops help nature's work, and go to school. 
To file and finish Gk>d Almighty's fool. 
Yet none Sir Fopling him, or him, can call ; 
He's knight o* the shire, and represents ye all. 
From each he meets he culls whate'er be can ; 
Legion's his name, a people in a man. 
His bulky folly gathers as it goes. 
And, rolling o'er you, like a snow-ball, grows. 
His various modes from various fathers follow ; 
One taught the toss,and one the new French wallow; 
His sword-knot this, his cravatt that design'd ; 
And this the yard-long snake he twirls behind. 
From one the sacred periwig he gain'd. 
Which wind ne'er blew, nor touch of hat profaned. 
Another's diving bow he did adore. 
Which with a shog casts all the hair before. 
Till he, with full decorum, brings it back. 
And rises with a water-spaniel snake. 
As for his songs, the ladies' dear delight. 
These sure he took from most of you who write. 
Yet every man is safe from what he fear'd ; 
For no one fool is hunted firom the herd. 


• .'.I' 




ME N. LEE, 1678.. 

This, as appears from the Prologue preserved in the Luitrell coUee^ 
tion, was thejirst play acted in the season^ 1698-9. // haSy like 
all Lee's productiofis, no small share of bombast, with some stru 
ingly beautiful passages. 

You've seen a pair of faithful lovers die ; 
And much you care ; for most of you will cry 
*Twas a just judgment on their constancy. 
For, heayen be thank'd, we live in such an age. 
When no man dies for love, but on the stage : 
And e'en those martyrs are but rare in plays ; 
A cursed sign how much true faith diecays. 
Love is no more a violent desire ; 
*Tis a mere metaphor, a painted fire. 
In all our sex, the name examined well, 
•Tis pride to gain, and vanity to tell. 
In woman, 'tis of subtle interest made ; 
Curse on the punk, that made it first a trade ! 
She first did wit's prerogative remove, 
And made a fool presume to prate of love. 


Let honour and preferment go for gold. 

But glorious beauty is not to be sold ; 

Or, if it be, 'tis at a rate so high. 

That nothing but adoring it should buy. 

Yet the rich cullies may their boasting spare ; 

They purchase but sophisticated ware. 

'Tis prodigality that buys deceit. 

Where both the giver and the taker cheat. 

Men but refine on the old half-crown way ; 

And women fight, like Swissers, fpr their pay» 

*■ f 




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

•'* Selfish. A coxcomb, conceited of his beauty, wit, and breed-i 
ing, thinking all women in love with him, always admiring and 
talking to himself. 

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

Young Maggot. His nephew ; an inns-of-court man, who ne- 
l^ects law, and runs mad after wit, pretending much to love, and 
both in spite of nature, since his face makes him imfit for one, 
amd his brains for the other. 

Prig. A coxcomb, who never thinks or talks of any thing but 
dogs, norses, hunting, hawking, bowls, tennis, and gaming; a 
look, a most noisy jockey. 

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

So many characters, so minutely described, lead us to suppose, 
that some personal satire lay concealed under them ; and, accord- 
ingly, the Prologue seems to have been written with a view of 
deprecating thie resentment which this idea might have excited in 
the audience. We learn, however, by the Prefoce, that the piece 
was unfevourably received, " either through the calamity of the 
time (during the Popish plot,) which made people not care for di- 
Tersions, or through the anger of a great many, who thought them- 
selves concerned in the satire." The piece is far from being de- 
void of merit ; and the characters, though drawn in Shadwell's 
ooarsCi harsh manner, are truly comic That of the jockeyy since 


so popular^ seems to have been brought upon the ttttge for the 
first time in the '' True Widow." It is remarkable, that, though 
Dr}'den writes the Prologue, the piece contains a sly hit at him. 
Maggoty finding himself married to a portionless jilt, says, " I 
must e'en write hard for the play-house ; I may get the rever- 
sion of the poet-laure^t's place." This, however^ might be only 
meant as a good-humoured pleasantry among friends. 

After the deadly quarrel with Shadwell, our author seems to 
have resumed his property in the Prologue* as it is prefixed to 
^* The Widow Banter, or. The History of Baopn in Virginuh*' 
a tragi-cpmedy, by Mrs Behn, acted in 1690* 





Heaven save ye, gallants, and this hopeful age ! 
Y'are welcome to the downfal of the stage. 
The fools have labour'd long in their vocation, 
And vice, the manufacture of the nation. 
Overstocks the town so much, and thrives so well. 
That fops and knaves grow drugs, and will not sell. 
. In vain our wares on theatres are shown. 
When each has a plantation of his own. 
His cause ne'er fails ; for whatsoe'er he spends. 
There's still Good's plenty for himself and friends. 
Should men- be rated by poetic rules. 
Lord, what a poll would there be raised from fools ! 
Meantime poor wit prohibited must lie. 
As if 'twere made some French commodity. 
Fools you will have, and raised at vast expence ; 
And yet, as soon as seen, they give offence. 
Time was, when none would cry, — That oaf was me ; 
But now you strive about your pedigree. 

346 rnoLOGUES and epilogues. 

Bauble and cap • no sooner are thrown down, 

But there's a muss f of more than half the town. 

Each one will challenge a child's part at least ; 

A sign the family is well encreased. 

Of foreign cattle there's no longer need, 

"When we're supplied so fast with English breed. 

Well ! flourish, countrymen ; drink, swear, and roar; 

Let every free-bom subject keep his whore. 

And wandering in the wilderness about. 

At end of forty years not wear her out. 

But when you see these pictures, let none dare 

To own beyond a limb, or single share ; 

For where the punk is common, he's a sot. 

Who needs will father what the parish got. 

* The fool's cap and bauble^ with which the ancient jester 
was equipped, 
t A scramble. 




BY MR N. LEE, 1680. 

This play (^ Nathaniel Lee's was first acted at the Duke's theatre, in 
IGiSO. It is founded on the history of the natural son of Pope 
Alexander VI. The play fell soon into disrepute ; for Cibber teUs 
psj that when Powetwas jealous of his fine dress in Lord Fop» 
Jfington, and complained bitterly , that he had not so good a suit 
to piay " Ccesar Borgia" this bouncing play could do little more 
tk^H pay candles and fiddles. — Apology,' 

The unhappy man, who once has trail'd a pen, 
Jjives not to please himself, but other men ; 
js always drudging, wastes his life and blood. 
Yet only eats and drinks what you think good. 
What praise soe'er the poetry deserve, 
Yet every fool can bid the poet starve. 
That fumbling letcher to revenge is bent, 
-Because he thinks himself, or whore, is meant : 
I^ame but a cuckold, all the city swarms ; 
From Leadenhall to Ludgate is in arms. 
Were there no fear of Antichrist, or France, 
In the blest time poor poets live by chance. 


Either you come not here, or, as you grace 
Sonic old acquaintance, drop into your place. 
Careless and qualmish with a yawning race. 
You sleep o'er wit, — and by my troth you may ; 
Most of your talents lie another way. 
You love to hear of some prodigious tale. 
The bell that toU'd alone, or Irish whale.* 
News is your food, and you enough provide. 
Both for yourselves, and all the world beside. 
One theatre there is, of vast resort, 
Which whilome of Requests was calFd the Court ;f 

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

t The Court of Requests was a general rendezvous for the news- 
mongers, politicians, and busy-bodies of the time. North says, 
^' It was observable of Gates, that while he had his liberty, as in 
King Charles's time and King William's, especially the latter, he 
never failed to give his attendance in the Court of Requests, and in 
the lobbies, to solicit hard in all points under deliberation thfit 



But now the great exchange of news 'tis hight. 
And full of hum and buz from noon till night. 
TJp stairs and down you run, as for a race, 
And each man wears three nations in his face. 
So big you look, though claret you retrench. 
That, arm'd with bottled ale, you huff the French. 
But all your entertainment still is fed 

I By villains in your own dull island bred. 

fc "Would you return to us, we dare engage 

; To shew you better rogues upon the stage. 

^. You knew no poison but plain ratsbane here; 
Death's more refined, and better bred elsewhere. 
They have a civil way in Italy, -s 

y By smelling a perfume to make you die ; i 

A trick would make you lay your snuff-box by, j 
Murder's a trade so known and practised there, 
'That *tis infallible as is the chair. 

SpBut mark their feast, you shall behold such pranks f 

*'-The pope says grace, but 'tis the devil gives thanks.^: 

might terminate in the prejudice of the church, crown, or of any 
gentleman of the loyal, or church of England party." Swift, in his 

^ Journal to Stella, makes frequent mention of the Court of Re- 
quests, as a scene of political bustle and intrigue. 

J The Popish Plot being now in full force and credit, our au- 

Nthor here, as in the " Spanish Friar," Hatters the universal pre* 
jadice entertained against the Catholics. 





Saphonisha was a play ofN. Lee,Jlrst acted ahoutt 16^6. jS & ii 
the taste of the Frencn stage, and of the romance* cf Calprmk 
and Scuderi. Hannibal and Massinissa are introduced w ih 
character qfrvhining love-sick adorers of relentless beauty, tUt 
prevailing taste is admirably ridiculed by Boileau, in a diahgK 
where a scene is laid in the infernal regions. In the pfdbffX 
spoken at Oxford, which was always Jamous for Tory principuit 
our author ventures to ridicule the Popish Plot, and to predict ^ 
consequences of the predominance of fanatical principles to ikt 
studies caltivated in the University, 

Thespis, the first professor of our art. 
At country wakes, sung ballads from a cart. 
To prove this true, if Latin be no trespass, 
Dicitur et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis. 
But iEschylus, says Horace in some page, 
Was the first mountebank that trod the stage : 
Yet Athens never knew your learned sport. 
Of tossing poets in a tennis-court.* 

* Apparently^ a tennis-court was the place where the temp^ 
rary stage was erected at Oxford. 



But 'tis the talent of our English nation. 
Still to be plotting some new reformation ; 
And few years hence, if anarchy goes on. 
Jack Presbyter shall here erect his throne. 
Knock out a tub with preaching once a day. 
And every prayer be longer than a play. 
Then all your heathfn wits shall go to pot, 
For disbelieving of a Popish-plot ; 
Your poets shall be used like infidels, 
And worst, the author of the Oxford Bells ; * 
Nor should we 'scape the sentence, to depart. 
Even in our first original, a cart ; 
No zealous brother there would want a stone, 
To maul us cardinals, and pelt Pope Joan. 
Religion, learning, wit, would be supprest. 
Rags of the whore, and trappings of the beast ; 
jSoot, Suarez, Tom of Aquin,f must go down. 
As chief supporters of the triple crown ; 
And Aristotle's for destruction ripe ; 
Some say, he call'd the soul an organ-pipe. 
Which, by some little help of derivation. 
Shall then be proved a pipe of inspiration. 

♦ Probably some pasquinade against the Whigs, then current 
in' the university. 

f Noted school divines^ whose works (the greater was the pity) 
were then in high esteem in the university. 


This Prologue was ohdouslif spoken in \Ql80A,Jrom iisjrequmt 
reference to the politics of that period i hut upon what particular 
occasion I have not discovered. 

If yet there be a few that take delight 
In that which reasonable men should write, 
To them alone we dedicate this night 
The rest may satisfy their curious itch 
With city-gazettes, or some factious speech,* 
Or whatever libel, for the public good. 
Stirs up the shrove-tide crew to fire and blood. 
Remove your benches, you apostate pit. 
And take, above, ten pennyworth of wit ; 
Go back to your dear dancing on the rope. 
Or see what's worse, the devil and the pope.f 
The plays, that take on our corrupted stage, 
Methinks, resemble the distracted age ; 
Noise, madness, all unreasonable things. 
That strike at sense, as rebels do at kings. 

* The city Gazettes were such publications as the petition of 
the City, Mayor, and Aldermen^ for the sitting of parfiament on 
the 13th January^ 1680, which is printed with the city arms pre- 
fixed, by a solemn order of the common council, and an appoint- 
ment by the Loid Mayor, that Samuel Roy croft, printer to the 
city, do print the same, pursuant to order, and that no other per« 
son presume to do so. The ''factious speech" was probably that 
of Shaftesbury, which was burned by the hands of the common 

f The Pope-burning, so often mentioned. 


The style of forty-one our poets write, 

And you are grown to judge like forty-eight.* 

Such censures our mistaking audience make. 

That 'tis almost grown scandalous to take. 

They talk of fevers that infect the brains ; 

But nonsense is the new disease that reigns. 

Weak stomachs, with a long disease opprest, 

Cannot the cordials of strong wit digest ; 

Therefore thin nourishment of farce ye choose. 

Decoctions of a barley-water muse. 

A meal of tragedy would make ye sick. 

Unless it were a very tender chick. 
/■ Some scenes in sippets would be worth our time ; 
- These would go down ; some love that's poadi'd in 
^ rhime : 

i Jf these should fail 

[;. We must lie down, and, after all our cost, 
I' Keep holiday, like watermen in frost ; 

While you turn players on the world's great stage, 
f' And act yourselves the farce of your own age. 

* The meaniag is, that the poets rebel against sense and cnti- 
cism, like the parliament, in 164«1, against tlie king ; and that the 
audience judge as ill as those, who, in 164!8, conjoined Charles 
^ to the block. The parallel between the political disputes in 168G, 
and 1681, and those which preceded the great Civil War, was 
fiishionable among the Tories. A Whig author, who undertakes 
" to answer the clamours of the malicious, and to inform tl\e ig- 
norant on this subject," complains, ^' It hath been all the cla- 
mour o£lBJLeffariy''(mefJfbriV'Ume is now coming to be acted over 
again ; we are running in the very same steps, in the same path 
I and road, to undo the nation, and to ruin kingly government, as 
I our predecessors did in forty ^ and forty^one. We run the same 
L courses, we take the same measures ; tatet anguis in herba ; be- 
: ware of the Presbyterian serpent, who lurks in the afi^s of 
jt ^hly, being the very same complexion, form, and shape, as that 
:^ of forty and forty-one/' — The Disloyal Forty and Forty -one, and 
the Loyal Eighty^ presented to public view.'* Folio 1680. 

VOL. X. Z 





This Epik^ef which occurs in Lutlrelts coUection with maw/ iiuii> 
giniu corrections J seems to have been spoken hy Goodman, who u 
mentioned with great respect by Cihher in his " Apology." It ii 
now for thejirst time received into Dry dens poems* 

Pox on this playhouse ! 'tis an old tired jade, 
'Twill do no longer, we must iforce a trade. 
What if we all turn witnesses o' th' Plot ; — 
That's overstoekt, there's nothing to be got. 
Shall we take orders ? — That will parts require, 
And colleges give no degrees for hire ; 
Would Salamanca were a little nigher ! 
Will nothing do ? — O, now 'tis found, I hope ; 
Have not you seen the dancing of the rope ? 
When Andre's* wit was clean run off the score, 
And Jacob's capering tricks could do no more, 
A damsel does to the ladder's top advance. 
And with two heavy buckets drags a dance ; 
The yawning crowd perk up to see the sight. 
And slaver'd at the mouth for vast delight. 

* Alluding to St Andrr, tlie famous dancing master^ and Jacob 
Hal), thq performer on the slack rope. 



Oh, friend, there's nothing, to enchant the mind, 
Nothing like that sweet sex to draw mankind : 
The founder'd horse, that switching will not stir. 
Trots to the mare afore, without a spur. 
Faith, m go scour the scene-room, and engage 
Some toy within to save the falling stage. [Exit. 

Re-enters with Mrs Cox. 

Whohavewehere again? what nymph's i'th' stocks? 
Yoijr most obedient slave, sweet Madam Cox. 
You'd best be coy, tod blush for a pretence ; 
For shame ! say something in your own defence ! 

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


- Goodman. O Lord ! pray, no swearing, madam ! 

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






ThUflaif was highly applauded at its first representation* La^' 
batneijolhming perhaps this epilogue, tdls us, that the gemus of 
the author burned as early as that of the incomparable Cowley; 
and adds, in evidence of farther sympathy f that Saunders mas, 
like him, a kin^s scholar. The play is said to be taken from a 
novel called " Tamerlane and Asteruh" and was comphmeidei 
with a copy of commendatory verses by Mr Banks. It does not 
appear that Saunders wrote any thing else* 

X4ADIEJS, the beardless author of this day 

Commends to you the fortune of his play. 

A woman- wit has often graced the stage. 

But he's the first boy-poet of our age. 

Early as is the year his fancies blow. 

Like young Narcissus peeping through the snow. 

Thus Cowley* blossom'd soon, yet flourish'd IcHig ; 

This is as forward, and may prove as strong. 

* Cowley published in his sixteenth year, a book called " Poeti- 
cal Blossoms." 




Youth with the fair should always favour find. 
Or we are damn'd dissemblers of our kind. 
What's all this love they put into our parts ? 
'Tis but the pit-a-pat of two young hearts. 
Shouldhagandgrey-beardmake such tender moan^^ 
Faith^ you'd even trust them to themselves alone, v- 
And cry, " Let's go, here's nothing to be done." j 
Since love's our business, as 'tis your ddight, 
The young, who best can practise, best can write. 
What though he be not come to his full power ? 
He's mending and improving every hour. 
You sly she-jockies of the box and pit. 
Are pleased to find a hot unbroken wit ; 
By management he may in time be made. 
But there's no hopes of an old batter'd jade. 
Faint and unnerved, he runs into a sweat. 
And always fails you at the second heat. 





This Prolomte appears to have been spoken at Oxford sliartl^ after 
the dissotution of tlie famous Parliament held there, Mard^ 
1680-1. Prom the following couplet, it would seem that the 
players had made an unsuccessful attempt to draw houses during 
the short sitting of that Parliament : 

We look*d what representatives would bring, 
But they served us just as they did the King. 

At that time a greater stage was opened for the public amusement^ 
and the mimic theatre could excite little interest, 

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

The Tuscan poet did advance 
The frantic Paladin of France. 

The famed Italian muse, whose rhimes advance 

Orlando, and the Paladins of France, 

Records, that, when our wit and sense is flown, 

'Tis lodged within the circle of the moon. 

In earthen jars, which one, who thither soar'd, 

Set to his nose, snuff 'd up, and was restored. 

Whate'er the story be, the moral's true ; 

The wit wc lost iji town, wc find in you. 


Our poets their fled parts may draw from hence, 
And fill their windy heads with sober sense ; 
When London votes* with Southwark's disagree. 
Here may they find their long-lost loyalty. 
Here busy senates, to the old cause inclined. 
May snuff the votes their fellows left behind ; 
Your country neighbours, when their grain grows 

May come, and find their last provision here ; 
Whereas we cannot much lament our loss, 
Who neither carried back, nor brought one cross. 
We look'd what representatives would bring. 
But they help'd us — -just as they did the king. 
Yet we despair not ; for we now lay forth 
The Sibyl's books to those who know their worth ; 
And though the first wa^ sacrificed before. 
These volumes doubly will the price restore. 
Our poet bade us hope this grace to find,. 
To whom by long prescription you are kind. 
He, whose undaunted Muse, with loyal rage. 
Has never spared the vices of the age. 
Here finding nothing that his spleen can raise. 
Is forced to turn his satire into praise. 

* The city of London had now declared against petitioning for 




This Prologue must have been spoken at Oxford during the rendence 
of the Duke of York in Scotland, in 1681-2. The humour iunu 
upon a part ofthe company having attended the Duke to Scotland, 
where, among other luxuries little known to my countrymen, he m- 
troduccd, during his residence at Hobf-Rood House, the amuses 
ments of the theatre, I can say little about the actors commemonh 
ted in thefoUoming verses, excepting^ that their stage was erected 
in the tennis-court of the palace , which was afterwards converted 
into some sort of manufactory, andjinally^ burnt down man^ 
years ago. Besides these deserters, whom Dryden has described 
very ludicrously, he mentions a sort of strolling company, compo' 
sed, it would seemy of Irishmen^ who had lately acted at Oxford* 

DiscoRDj and plots, which have undone our age, 
With the same ruin have o'erwhelm'd the stage. 
Our house has suffer'd in the common woe. 
We have been troubled with Scotch rebels too. 
Our brethren are from Thames to Tweed departed, ^ 
And of our sisters, all the kinder-hearted > 

To Edinburgh gone, or coach'd, or carted. j 

With bonny bluecap there they act all night 
For Scotch half-crown, in English three-pence hight. 


One nymph, to whom fat Sir John FalstafTs lean. 
There with her single person fills the scene. 
Another, with long use and age decayed, 
Dived here old woman, and rose there a maid. 
Our trusty door-keepers oT former time 
There strut and swagger in heroic rhimef. 
Tack but a copper-lace to drugget suit. 
And there's a hero made without dispute ; 
And that, which was a capon's tail before. 
Becomes a plume for Indian emperor. 
But all his subjects, to express the care 
Of imitation, go, like Indians, bare ; 
Liaced linen there would be a dangerous thing ; 
It might perhaps a new rebellion bring ; 
The Scot, who wore it, would be chosen king. 
But why should I these renegades describe. 
When you yourselves have seen a lewder tribe ? 
Teague has been here, and to this learned pit. 
With Irish action slander'd English wit ; 
You have beheld such barbarous Macs appear. 
As merited a second massacre ; * 
Such as, like Cain, were branded with disgrace. 
And had their country stamp'd upon their face. 
When strollers durst presume to pick your purse, 
We humbly thought our broken troop not worse. 
How ill soe'er our action may deserve^ 
Oxford's a place where wit can never starve. 

Alluding to the Irish massacre. 





From the date of the various circumstances referred to, this Epi* 
logue seems to have been spoken in 1681 -2* 

W^E act by fits and starts like drowning men. 
But just peep up, and then pop down again. 
Let those who call us wicked change their sense, 
For never men lived more on Providence. 
Not lottery cavaliers * are half so poor. 
Nor broken cits, nor a vacation whore ; 
Not courts, nor courtiers living on the rents 
Of the three last ungiving parliaments ; t 

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

f The *' three ungiving parliaments'' were, that convoked in 
1679, and dissolved on the 10th July in the same year ; that 
which was held at Westminster 21st October, 1680, and dissolved 
on the 18th January following; and, finally, the Oxford parlia- 


So wretched, that, if Pharaoh could divine, ^ 

He might have spared his dream of seven lean kine, [- 
And changed his vision for the muses nine. J 
The comet, that, they say, portends a dearth. 
Was but a vapour drawn from playhouse earth ; 
Pent there since our last fire, and, Lilly says, * 
Foreshows our change of state, and thin third-days. 

ment, assembled 21st March^ 1680-1, and dissolved on the 28th 
of the same month. All these parliaments refused supplies to 
the crown, until they should obtain security, as they termed it, 
for the Protestant religion. 

* The famous astrologer Lilly is here mentioned ironically. In 
his ^' Strange and wonderful prophecy, being a relation of many 
universal accidents that will come to pass in the year 1681, ac- 
cording to the prognostications of the celestial bodies, as well in 
this our English nation, as in parts beyond the seas, with a sober 
caution to all, by speedy repentance, to avert the judgments that 
are impendent," I find *' an account of the great stream of light, 
by some termed a blazing star, which was seen in the south-west 
on Saturday and Sunday, the 11th and 12th of this instant De- 
cember^ between six and seven in the evening, with several judi* 
cial opinions and conjectures on the same." But the comet, oien- 
tioned in the text, may be that which is noticed in '' A strange 
and wonderful Trinity, or a Triplicity of Stupendous Prodigies, 
consisting of a wonderful eclipse, as well as of a wonderful co- 
met, and of a wonderful conjunction, now in its second return ; 
seeing all these three prodigious wonders do jointly portend won- 
derful events, all meeting together in a strange harmonious tri« 
angle, and are all the three royal heralds successively sent from 
the King of Heaven, to sound succeeding alarms for awakening 
a slumbering world. Bevoare the third time" 4to. London, l68^. 
This comet is said to have appeared in October l682. Various 
interpretations were put upon these heavenly phenomena, by Gad- 
bury, Lilly, Kirkby, Whalley, and other Philo-raaths, who were 
chiefly guided in tneir predictions by their political attachments^ 
Some insisted they meant civil war, others foreign conquest; 
some that they presaged the downfal of the Turk, others that of 
the Pope and French King ; some that they foretold dearth on 
the land, and others, the fertility of the king's bed, by the birth 
of a son, to the exclusion of the Duke of York. 


'Tis not our want of wit that keq>s us poor ; 
For then the printers' press would suffer more. 
Their pamphleteers each day their venom spit ; 
They thrive by treason, and we starve by wit. 
Confess the truth, which of you has not laid 
Four farthings out to buy the Hatfield Maid ? * 
Or, which is duller yet, and more would spite us, 
Democritus his wars with Heraclitus ? f 

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

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

ITie Tories, according to the custom of that time, endeavour* 
ed to turn this apparition against those who invented it, and pub- 
lished an ironical account of its appearance to Lady Gray, the 
supposed mistress of the Duke of Monmouth. — See Ralph, f&'(/* 
and this Work, Vol. IX. p. 276. 

f *^ Heraclitus Ridens" was a paper published weekly, by L'Es- 
trangc, on the part of the court, and answered by one called ^'De- 
mocritus" on that of the Whigs. 



Such are the authors, who have run us down, 
And exercised you critics of the town. 
Yet these are pearls to your lampooning rhymes, 
Ye abuse yourselves more dully than the times. 
Scandal, the glory of the English nation. 
Is worn to rags, and scribbled out of fashion ; 
Such harmless thrusts, as if, like fencers wise. 
They had agreed their play before their prize. 
Faith, they may hang their harps upon their willows ; 
'Tis just like children when they box with pillows. 
Then put an end to civil wars, for shame 
Let each knight-errant, who has wrong'd a dame. 
Throw down his pen, and give her, as ne can, 
The satisfactic«i of a gentleman.' 







The Duke^s return from Scotland, and the shock which it gave to 
the schemes of Shaftesbury and the ExclusionistSy has been men" 
tioned at lentrth in the Notes to the Second Part of '' Absalom 
and Achitoptiely* Vol. ix. p. 402. The passage upon which the 
note is given, agrees ivith this Prologue, in represefiting the secret 
enemies of the Duke of York as anxiousli/ pressing forwards to 
sreet his return : 

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

Vol. ix. p. 344. 

The date of the Prologue^ and the name of the speaker^ are marked 

on a copy in Mr Luttrell's collection. 

In those cold regions which no summers cheer, 
Where brooding darkness covers half the year, 
To hollow caves the shivering natives go, 
Bears range abroad, and hunt in tracks of snow. 
But when the tedious twilight wears away. 
And stars grow paler at the approach of day. 


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



BY MB J. BAXK8, 168S. 



W^HEN first the ark was landed on the shore. 
And heaven had vow'd to curse the ground no more; 
When tops of hills the longing patriarch saw. 
And the new scene of earth began to draw ; 
The dove was sent to view the waves decrease, 
And firjTt brought back to man the pledge of peace. 
'Tis needless to apply, when those appear. 
Who bring the olive, and who plant it here. 
We have before our eyes the royal dove. 
Still innocence is harbinger of love. 
The ark is open'd to dismiss the train. 
And people with a better race the pbin. 
Tell me, ye powers, why should vain man pursue, 1 
With endless toil, each object that is new, > 

And for the seeming substance leave the true ? ) 
Why should he quit for hopes his certain good. 
And loath the manna of his daily food ? 
Must England still the scene of changes be. 
Tost and tempestuous, like our ambient sea ? 
Must still our weather and our wiUs agree ? 


Without our blood our liberties we have ; 
Who, that is free, would fight to be a slave ? 
Or, what can wars to after-times assure, 
Of which our present age is not secure ? 
All that our monarch would for us ordain, 
Is but to enjoy the blessings of his reign. 
Our land's an Eden, and the main's our fence. 
While we preserve our state of innocence : 
That lost, then beasts their brutal force employ. 
And first their lord, and then themselves destroy* 
What civil broils have cost, we know too well ; 
Oh ! let it be enough that once we fell ! 
And every heart conspire, and every tongue. 
Still to have such a king, and this King long. 

VOL. X. a A 




The " Loyal Bnrtlier, or. The Peftian Prince,*' yvta the fiitt 
phiy of Southerne, afterwards so deaenredly fiunous as atiagic 
met It tt said to be borrowed from a Dove^calledf ** Tac^Doa^ 
^ince of Persia." The character of the Loyal Brother ia obvioas- 
ly designed as a compliment to the Duke of York, -whose adhe* 
rents and opponents now divided the nation. Southeme was at 
tl^ time but three-and-twenty. It is said, that^ upon offerii^ 
Dryden five guineas for the folloyrinff prologue, wldch had hither- 
to been the usual compliment made him for such fiivours, Ae 
bard returned the money ; and added, ** not that I do so oat of 
disrespect to you, young man, but the players have had my goods 
too cheap. In future, I must have ten guineas." Southeme was 
the first poet who drew large profit from the author's nights ; in- 
somuch, that Jie is Said to have cleared by one play seven hun- 
dred pounds ; a circumstance that greatlv surprised Dryden, who 
seldom gained by his best pieces more than a seventh part of the 
sum. From these circumstances. Pope, in his verses to South* 
erne on his birth-day, distinguishes him as 

Tom, whom heaven sent down to raise 

The price of prologues and of plays. 

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

'^ But, to return to our tumults. — After it was found that there 
was to be a reinforcement at the next anniversary^ which was in 
1682, it is not to be thought that the court was asleep, or that the 

ki^ armli Aot ^ndearoui* to put & mfp to tlug bfbfal dttti^. 
His ttd^esty thbu^t fit to take toe oi*diiiary regular collide < -v^hlch 
im, to sekid for t£e lord mayor^ &c. atid to dharge htm to ^rev^nt 
riots ift the tity. So the lord mayor and sheri^s attended the 
kfaltr in cOnndl ; ahd there they ivere told that dangerous tumults 
aMdisordets tvere designed in the city upon the 17th of Noveift- 
bttf li**t, at night, on pretence of bonfires ; knd his majesty eti 
I^Mted that they, who were entrusted with thfe government of th& 
city, for keeping the peace, should, by their authority, prevent 
gTl sudl riotous disorders, which, permitted to gb oii, was a miSi* 
dlMieanour of their whole body. Then onfe of them came forwardj 
ttidf in a whining tone, told the king that they did not appreheud 
atiy danger to his majesty, or the city, from thesfe bonfires ; ther^ 
WAS ah amour of the people against ropery, which they delightedi 
to express in that manner, but meant no harm : And. if they 
Aoald go about to hinder them, it would be taken &^ if they &a 
yooted ropery ; and, considering the great numbers, and uieif 
tetl, it might miake them outrageous, which, let alone, would not 
hi ; and perhaps they themselves might notf be secure in residt^ 
ing them, no not in their own houses ; and th^y hoped his Aia- 
jjesty would not have them so exposed, so long as they could as^ 
Aire his minesty that care should be taken, that, if they went 
about any ill thing, they should be prevented : Or to this purpos^^ - 
As I had it from undoubted authority. This was the godly cart 
thhY had of the public peace* and the repose of the dty ; by 
which the king saw plainly what they wer6, and What wias to be 
expected from them. There wanted not those who sugffested tfad 
lending regiments into the dty ; but the king (always tntty ) saidj 
he did not love to play with his horse. But his majesty. oraeTra 
that a part^ of horse should be drawn np^ and make a strdhj^ 
gttiurd on the outside of Temple-Bar ; ana all the other guai^ 
were ordered to be in a posture at a minute's Wamiilg ; and ^ 
he took a middle, but secure and inoffensive Way i and thaen^ 
guards did not hreak up till all the rout was over. 

" There were not a lew in the court who either ftared or fk- 
ironred these doings ; it may be both ; the former being thecAus^ 
of the latter. This puts me in mind of a passiu;ie! told me by on6 
present. It was of the Lopd Archbishop of Xotk^ Dolb«n, wh6 
Was a goodly person, and corpulent ; he came to the Lord Chidl 
Justice North, and. My lord, said he, (clapping his hand upon 
his great self,) what shall we do with these tumults of the people? 
They will bear all down before them. My lord, said the Cnief 
Justice, fear God, and don't fear the people. A good hitit fit>m a 
man of law to an archbishop. But when die day of execution 
was ccmie, all the show-fools of the town had made sure of places ; 
and, towards the evening, there was a great clutter in the street. 



with taking down fflass- windows^ and faces began to shew thcsD« 
selves thereat ; and the hubbub was greaty with the shoals cf 
people come there> to take or seek accommodation. And, for the 
greater amazement of the people, somebody had got up to tbe 
statue of Elizabeth, in the nicii of Temple-Bar, and set her out 
like an heathen idol. A bright shield was hung upon her ami, 
and a spear put in, or leaned upon, the other hand ; and lamps, 
or candles, were put about, on the wall of the nich, to enlighten 
her person, that the people might have a full view of the deity, 
that, like the goddess Pallas, stood there as the object of the so- 
lemn sacrifice about to be made. There seemed to be an inscrip- 
tion upon the shield, but I could not get near enou«^h to disoiem 
what It was, nor divers other decorations ; but whatever they 
were, the eyes of the rout were pointed at them, and lusty shouti 
were raised, which was all the adoration could be paid before the 

Sand procession came up. I could fix in no nearer post than 
e Green-Dragon Tavern, below in Fleet-Street ; but, before I 
settled in jmy quarters, I rounded the crowd, to observe, as well 
as I could, what was doing, and saw much, but afterwards heard 
more of Uie hard battles and skirmishes, that were maintained 
fVom windows and balconies of several parties with one and the 
other, and with the floor, as the fancy of Whig and Tory incited. 
All which were managed with the artillery of squibs^ whereof 
thousands of vollies went ofi*, to the great expence of powder and 
paper, and profit to the pdbr manufacturer ; for the price of am- 
munition rose continually, and the whole trade could not supply 
the consumption of an hour or two. 

'' When we had posted ourselves at windows, expecting the play 
to beffin, it was very dark, but we could perceive the street to fill, 
and the hum of the crowd ^rew louder and louder ; and, at length, 
with help of some lights below, we could discern, not only up- 
wards towards the Bar, where the squib war was maintained, but 
downwards towards Fleet-Bridge; the whole street was crowded 
with people, which made that which followed seem very strange; 
for, about eight at night, we heard a din from below, which came 
up the street, continually increasing, till we could perceive a mo- 
tion ; and that was a row of stout i'ellows, that came, shouldered 
together, cross the street, from wall to wall, on each side. How 
the people nnelted away, 1 cannot tell ; but it was plain these fel- 
lows made clear board, as if they had swept the street for what 
was to come after. They went along like a wave ; and it was 
•wonderful to see how the crowd made way : I suppose the good 
people were willing to give obedience to lawful authority. Be- 
hind this wave (which, as all the rest, had many lights attending) 
there was a vacancy, but it filled a-pace, till another like wave 
came up ; and so four or ^ve of these waves passed, one after an- 


other; and then we discerned more numerous lights, and throats 
were opened with hoarse and tremendous noise ; and^ with tluit, 
advanced a pageant, borne along above the heads of the crowd, 
and upon it sat an huge Pope, in pontificalibus, in his chair, with 
a reasonable attendance for state; but his premier minister, that 
shared most of his ear, was, II Signior Diavolo, a nimble little 
fellow, in a proper dress, that had a strange dexterity in climbing 
and winding about the chair, from one of the Pope's ears to the 

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

* Probably alluding to the pope-burning, meditated by the Wlugs duririg the 
adtiiinistration of Harlcy. Swift, in his journal to Stdla, mentions the figures 
intended for the procesuon having being seized by goveznmeiit. 





■^1^-^-^— !W^ 

I^oETs, like lawful ixionarehs^ ruled the stage^ 
Till critics, like damn'd Whigs^ debauch'd our age. 
Mark how they junip ! critics would regulate ^ 
Our theatres, aiia w higs reform our state ; f 
l^th pretend love^ and both (plague rot th^m !) } 

The critic humbly seems advice to bring. 
The fawning Whig petitions to the king ; 
But one's, advice into a satire slides, 
T'oth^r's petition a remonstrance hides; 
These wul no taxes give, and those no. pence ; 
Critics would starve the poet, Whigs the prince. 
The critic all our troops of friends discards ; 
Just so the Whig would fain pull down the guardis. 
Guards gre illegal that drive foes away,. 
As watchful shepherds, that fright beasts of prey. 
Kings, who disband such needless aids as these. 
Are safe — as long as e'er their sulgects please ; 


And that would be till next Queen Besses night, 
Which thus grave penny chroniclers indite.* 
Sir Edmcmdbury first, in woful wise, 
lieads up the show^ and milks thdr maudlin t^ei. 
l^here's not a butcbet's wife biit dribs her port^ 
And pities the poor pageant from her heart ; 
Who, to provoke revenge, rides round the fire. 
And, with a civil cong6, does reture: 
But guiltless blood to ground must never fall ; 
There's Antichrist behmd, to pay for all. 
The punk of Babylon in pomp appears, 
A lewd old gentleman of seventy years ; 
Whose age in vain our mercy would implore. 
For few take pity on an old cast whore. 
The devil, who brought him to the shame, takes x 
part; \ 

Sits cheek by jowl, in black, to cheer his heart, J 
liike thief and parson in a Tyburn-cart. * 
The word is given, and with a loud huzza 
The mitred poppet firom his chair they draw : 
On the slain corpse contending nations fall — 
Alas ! what's one poor Pope among them all ! 
He burns ; now aU true hearts your triumphs ring ; 
And next, for fashion, cry, " God save the King !** 
A needful cry in midst of such alarms. 
When forty thousand men are up in arms ; 
But after he's once saved, to make amends. 
In each succeeding health they damn his friends : 
So God begins, but still the devil ends. 
What if some one, inspired with zeal, should call. 
Come, let's go cry, " God save him at Whitehall ?" 
His best friends would not like this over-care. 
Or think him e'er the safer for this prayer. 

* See a copy of the penny chronicle alluded to, containing a 
minute account of this celebrated procession, ¥f ith a cut illustra* 
tive of the description^ Vol. VI. p. 222. 



Fi^e praying saints* are by an act allow'd^ ! 
But not the whole church-militant in crowd ; 
Yet, should heaven all the true petitions drain 
.0£ Fresby terians, who would kings maintmU] 
0£fixty thousand, five would scarce remain. 

* Only five dissenters were allowed to meet togedier by the 
penal statutes. ' i . 


• . ■ * 




A vmGiN poet was served up to-day,. 
Who, till this hour, ne*er cackled for a play. 
He's neither yet a Whig nor Tory boy ; 
But, like a girl, whom several would enjoy. 
Begs leave to make the best of his own natural 

Were I to play my callow author's game, 
The King's House i^ould instruct me by the name.* 
There's loyalty to one ; T wish no more : 
A commonwealth sounds like a common whore. 
Xiet husband or gallant be what they will, 
Ohe par* of woman is true Tory still. 
If any factious spirits should rebel. 
Our sex, with ease, can every rising quell. 
Then, as you hope we should your fisulings hide. 
An honest jury for our play provide. 
Whigs at their poets never take offence ; 
They save dull culprits, who have miurder'd sense. 
Though nonsense is a nauseous heavy mass. 
The vehicle called Faction makes it pass ; 
Faction in play's the commonwealth-man's bribe ; 
The leaden farthing of the canting tribe : 

• Where the play was acted* 


Though void in payment laws and statutes make it, 
The neighbourhood, that knows the man, will take 

"Tis faction buys the votes of half the pit ; 
Their's is the penaon«paf liamentt of wit. 
In city-dubs their venom let them vait ; 
For there 'tis safe, in its own element 
Here, where their madness can have no pretence, 
LfCt them forget themseiveis an hour of sense. 
In one poor isle, why should two factions be ? 
Small difference in yotrr vicses I can see : 
In drink and drabs both sides too well agree. 
Would there were more preferments in the bnd ! 
If places fell, llie party could not stand. 
Of this damn'd grievance eveir Whig compiaim. 
They grunt like hogs till they have got theix graiHl 
Mean time, you aee what tr»de our plots advance; 
We send eadi year good money into France ; 
And they that know what merchandize we need^ 
Send o'er true Protestants^ to mend our breed 

* Alluding to the tokens issued bjtaaidesmcn in place of cop- 
per money^ whichji tbougb not a Itgal tender of payaient, eoati> 
nued to be current by the credit of the individual whose nasie 
they bore. Tom Brown mentions Alderman Dutioombe's-leaito 

i The ParHanoit, vhich sat firoia the Restoratioxi till iSfS, 
bore this ignominious epithet among the Whigs. 

X Alluding to the emigration of the French Huguenots^ which 
the intolerance of Louis XIV. and his ministers began to render 
general. Many took refuge in England. See YoL X* p. f^ 







Atheniau judges, yoa this day renew. 
Here» tQ<v ^^ixe annual rites to Pallas done. 
And here poetic prizes lost or won. 
Methinls^ I aee you, crowa'd with olives^ sitt 
And strike a sacred horror from the pit 
A day of doom is thi$ of your decree. 
Where even the best are but by mercy free ; 
A day, which none but Jonson durst have wish'd 

to see. 

Here they, i^ho long have known the useful stage» 
Come to be taught themselves to teach the age. 
As your commissioners our poets go. 
To cultivate the virtue which you sow ; 
In your Lycasum first themselves refined, 
Aud del^ated thence to human kind. 
But as ambassadors, when long from home, 
Fbr new instructions to their princes come. 
So poets, who your precepts have forgot. 
Return, and beg they may be better taught : 


Follies and fiiults elsewhere by them are shown, 
But by your manners they correct their own. 
The illiterate writer, erap'ric-like, applies 
To minds diseased, unsafe chance remedies : 
The leam'd in schools, where knowledge first began^ 
Studies with care the anatomy of man ; 
Sees virtue, vice, and passions in their cause. 
And fame fi'om science, not from fortune* draws ; 
So Poetry, which is in Oxford made , 
An art, in London only is a trade* 
There haughty dunces, whose unlearned pen 
Could ne'er spell grammar, would be readiqg men. 
Such build their poems the Lucretian way ; 
So many huddled atoms make a play ; 
,And if they hit in order by some chance. 
They call that nature, which is ignorance.* 
To such a fame let mere town-wits aspire, ^ 
And their gay nonsense their own cits admire. 
Our poet, could he find forgiveness her^. 
Would wish it rather than a plaudit there. 
He owns no crown fi-om those Prastoriani bands,f 
But knows that right is in the Senate's hands. 
Not impudent enough to hope your praise, - 
Low at the Muses' feet his wreath he lays, '- 
And, where he took it up, resigns his bays. 
Kings make their poets whom themselves think fit^ 
But 'tis your suffrage makes authentic wit. 

* An allusion to Shadwell ; who boasted^ that he drew his cha- 
racters from nature^ in contempt of regular criticism. 

t Alluding to the mode in which the emperors were chosen 
during the decline of the empire, when the soldiers of the Prse- 
torian Guards were the electors, without regard to the legal rights 
of the Senate. 



No poor Dutch peasant, wing'd with all his fear. 
Flies with more haste, when the French arms draw 

Than we, with our poetic train, come down. 
For refuge hither, from the infected town : 
Heaven, for our sins, this summer has thought fit 
To visit us with all the plagues of wit. 
A French troop first swept all things in its way ; 
But those hot Monsieurs were too quick to stity : 
Yet, to our cost, in that short.time, we find 
They left their itch of novelty behind. 
The Italian merry-andrews took their place. 
And quite debauch'd the stage with lewd grimdce : 
Instead of wit, and humours, your delight 
Was there to see two hobby-horses fight ; 
Stout Scaramoucha with rush lance rode in. 
And ran a tilt at centaur Arlequin. 
For love you heard how amorous asses bray'd. 
And cats in gutters gave their serenade. 
Nature was out of countenance, and each day 
Some new-bom monster shewn you for a play. 
But when all fail'd, to strike the stage quite dumb. 
Those wicked engines, call'd machines, are come. 


Thunder and'lightning now for wit are play'd, 
And shortly scenes in Lapland will be laid : 
Art magic is for poetry profest,* 
And cats and dogs, and each obscener beast. 
To which Egyptian dotards once did bow. 
Upon our English stage are worshipped now. 
Witchcraft reigns there, and raises to renown 
Macbethf and Simon Magus of the town. 

♦ This and the following lines refer to the success of Shadwell's 
comedy of '* The Lancashire Witches," in which a ^eat deal of 
machinery is introduced ; the witches flying away wim the clown's 
candlesy and the priest's bottle of holy wat^^ and converting a 
ooantry-fellow into a horse upon the stage. Not content with 
tbis^ the author has introduced upon the stage all that writers 
upon Dsemonology have rehearsea of the Witched Sabbath, or 
Festival, with their infernal master ; and has thus, very dumd- 
Iv, mix^ the horrible with the ludicrous. As for the cats and 
dogs, we have, in one place, — *' Enter an Imp, in the shape of a 
Uack Shock ;" and, in anodier, 

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

Young Hartford, What's this ? we're set on by cats. 

Sir Timothy, They're witches in the shape of cats ; what shall 
we do? 

Priest, Phaat will I do? cat, cat, cat ! oh, oh ! Conjuro vobis! 
fugite, JugitCy Cacodcemones ; cats, cats ! (They scratch all their 
faces, till the blood runs about them.) 

Tom Shacklehead, Have at ye all I (he cuts at them.) I ha' 
mauled some of them, by the mass 1 they are fled, but I am 
plaguily scratched. (The Witches shriek, and run away.)" 

Besides the offence which Shadwell gave, in point of taste, by 
the introduction of these pantomimical absurdities, Dryden was 
also displeased by the whole tenor of the play, which was direct- 
ed against the High-Churchmen and Tories. — See Dedication of 
the Duke of Guise, Vol. VII. p. 15. 

f This has no reference to any recent representation of the 
tragedy of « Macbeth." Shadwell, from the witchcraft intro- 
duced in his play, is ironically termed, " Macbeth aiid Simon 



Fletcher's despised, your Jonson's out of fashion. 

And wit the only drug in all the nation. 

In this low ebb our wares to you are shown, 

By you those staple authors' worth is known, 

For wit's a manufacture of your own. 

When you, who only can, tiieir scenes have praised. 

We'll back, and boldly say, their price is raised. 

. i 

: I > 


■ - i I 




Though actors cannot much of learning boast, 
Of all who want it, we admire it most : 
We love the praises of a learned pit, 
As we remotely are allied to wit. 
We speak our poet's wit, and trade in ore. 
Like those who touch upon the golden shore ; 
Betwixt our judges can distinction make. 
Discern how much, and why our poems take ; 
Mark if the fools, or men of sense, rejoice ; 
Whether the applause be only sound or voice. 
When our fop gallants, or our city follow. 
Clap over loud, it makes us melancholy : 
We doubt that scene which does their wonder raise, 
And, for their igporance, contemn their praise. 
Judge, then, if we who act, and they who write. 
Should not be proud of giving you delight. 
London likes grossly ; but this nicer pit 
Examines, fathoms, all the depths of wit ; 
The ready finger lays on every blot ; 
Knows what should justly please, and what should 


Nature herself lies open to your view ; 

You judge, by her, what draught of her is truej 

Where outlines false, and colours seem too faint. 

Where bunglers daub, and where true poets paint. 

But by the sacred genius of this place. 

By every muse, by each domestic grace, 

Be kind to wit^ wjiiph b^t ^nde^vpurs well. 

And, where you judge, presumes not to excel ! 

Our poets hither for adoption come. 

As nations sued to be made free of Rome i 

Not in the sufiragating tribes * to stand. 

But in your utmost, last, provincial band. 

If his ambition may those hopes pursue. 

Who, with religi9i3<, loves ypipr j^te ai}4 yp% 

0*fi>r4 tQ hm » dewref ^me ^hm te 

Than his own mother-univei^sity. 

Thebes f did his green, unknp^ingi, youtfe engage ; 

He chooses Athens in his riper age. 

* Alluding to the Roman citizens, who had the right of votingt 
denied to the lower, or provincial orders. 

f Our author was educated at Cunbri^e. Wheth^ the soiob of 
Cam reli|4ied thi« ayof^od prpff rence of (^fprd, may be doi^^^ 


VOL. X. 2 B 




BY MB N. LEE, 1684. 

The flay ^ to which this is the prologue, is but asecond-raie perfortU' 
ance. It is founded on the stort/ cf Faustina and Crispus, which 
the learned will find in Ammianus MarceUinus, and the English 
reader in Gibbon. Arius, the heretic^ is the villain of the piece, 
which concludes fortunately. 

Our hero's happy in the play's conclusion ; 

The holy rogue at last has met confusion : 
Though Arius all along appeared a saint. 
The last act show'd him a True Protestant * 
Eusebius, — ^for you know I read Greek authors,— 
Reports, that, after all these plots and slaughters, 
The court of Constantine was full of glory. 
And every Trimmer tum'd addressing Tory. 
They follow'd him in herds as they were mad : 
When Clause wasking^ then all the world was glad.f 

* Alluding to the Whigs^ who called themselves so. See Vol. 
IX. p. 211. 

f Alluding to the gratulating speech of Orator Higgins to 
Clause, when elected King of the Beggars : 

Who is he here that did not wish thee chosen. 
Now thou art chosen ? Ask them ; all will say so, 
Nay, swear*t— *ti8 for the king— but let that pass. 

BeggarU Bush, Act II. Scene I. 


Whigs kept the places they possest before, 
And most were in a way of getting more ; 
Which was as much as saying. Gentlemen, 
Here's power and money to be rogues again. 
Indeed, there were a sort of peaking tools. 
Some call them modest, but I call them fools ; 
Men much more loyal, though not half so loud. 
But these poor devils were cast behind the crowd ; 
For bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense. 
But good men starve for want of impudence. 
Besides all these, there were a sort of wights, 
(I think my author calls them Tekelites,) 
Such hearty rogues against the king and laws, 
They favour'd e'en a foreign rebel's cause. 
When their own damn'd design was quash'd and 

At least they gave it their good word abroad. 
As many a man, who, for a quiet life, 
Breeds out his bastard, not to noise his wife. 
Thus, o'er their darling plot these Trimmers cry. 
And, though they cannot keep it in their eye, 
They bind it 'prentice to Count Tekely.* 

* The severity of the Austrian goyernment, in Hungary parti- 
cularly^ towards those who dissented from the Roman Catholic 
fiuth, occasioned several insurrections. The most memorable was 
headed by Count Teckeli, who allied himself with the Sultan^ 
assumed the crown of Transylvania^ as a vassal of the Porte^ and 
joined, with a considerable force^ the large army of Turks which 
besieged Vienna, and threatened to annihilate the Austrian em- 
pire. A similarity of situation and of interest induced the Whig 
party in England to look with a favourable eye upon this Hun- 
garian insurgent, as may be fully inferred from the following 
pass^e in De Foe's ** Appeal to Honour and Justice :*' 

'' The first time I had the misfortune to differ with my friends, 
was about the year 1683, when the Turks were besieging Vienna, 
and the Whias in England, generally speaking, were for the Turks 
taking it; which I, having read the history of the cruelty and 
perfidious dealings of the Turks in their wars, and how they bad 


They believe not the last plot ; may I be eurst. 
If I believe they e'er believed the first ! 
No wonder their own plot no plot they think, — 
The man that makes it, never smells the stink. 

rooted out the name of the Christian religion in above threescore 
and ten kingdoms, could by no means agree with ; and, though 
tlien but a young man, and a younger author, I opposed it, and 
wrote against it, which was taken very unkindly indeed." 

The mcoDgruity of the opinion combated by De Foe, with 
the high pretences of reh'gion set up by the Whigs, was the con- 
stant subject of ridicule to the Tory wits. In a poem, entitled, 
*' The Third Part of Advice to the Painter," dated by LuttreU, 
28th May, 1684, we find the following passage : 

Paint me that mighty powerftil state a shaking. 
And their great prophet, Teckely, a quaking ; 
Who for rdigion made such bustling work. 
That, to reform it, he brought in the Turk. 
Next, paint our English muftis of the tub. 
Those great promoters of the Teckelites' club* 
Draw me them praying for the Turkish cause. 
And for the overthrow o{ Christian laws. 

Another Tory poet prophecies of the infant son of James II., 

His conquering arm shaU soon subdue 
Teckelite Turks and home-bred Jew, 
Such as our great forefathers never knew. 

Findaric Ode on th€ Queen* t Deliv&y, hy Caleb Calk. 

Another ballad, written shortly after the defeat of Monmouth, 
is entitled, " A Song upon the Rendezvous on Hounsley-heath, 
with a Parallel of the Destruction of our English Turks in the 
West, and the Mahometans in Hungary." The expression occurs 
also in the Address of the Carlisle Citizens on the Declaration oi 
Indulgence, who " thank his majesty for his royal army, which 
is really both the honour and safety of the nation, let the Tecke- 
lites think and say what they will." An indicant Whig com- 
mentator on this effusion of loyalty, says, ''What the good men 
of Carlisle mean by Teckelites, we know not any more than they 
know themselves. However, the word has a pretty effect at a 
thne when the Protestant Hungarians, under Count Teckely, 
were well beaten by the Popish standing army in Hungary."— 
History &f Addresses^ p. l6l. 


And now it comes into my head, I'll tell 

Why these damn'd Trimmers loved the Turks so 

The original Trimmer,* though a friend to no man, 
Yet in his heart adored a pretty woman ; 
He knew that Mahomet laid up for ever 
Kind black-eyed rogues for every true believer ; 
And, — which was more than mortalman e'er tasted, — 
One pleasure that for threescore twelvemonths lasted. 
To turn for this, may surely be forgiven ; 
Who'd not be circumcised for such a heaven ? 


♦ The original Trimmer was probably meant for Lord Shaftes- 
bury, once a member of the Cabal, and a favourite minister, 
though afterwards in such violent opposition. His lordship's turn 
for gallantry was such as dfsthigatshed him even at the court of 
Charles. — See Vol. IX. p. 44*6. The party of Trimmers, properly 
so called, only comprehended the followers of Halifax ; but our 
author seems to incliMe all those who, professing to be friends 
of monarchy, were enemies of the Duke of York, and ^ho were 
ad odious to the coiirt as the fanatical republicans. Much wH, 
and more virulence, was unchained against them. Among Others, 
I find in Mr Luttrdli's Collection, a poem, entitled, '< The Cha- 
racter of a Trimmer," beginning thus : 

Hang out your cloth, and let the trampet sound. 

Here's such a beast as Afric never own*d : 

A twisted brute, the satyr in the story. 

That blows up die Whig heat, and cools the Tory ; 

A state hermaphrodite, whose doubtful lust 

Salutes all parties with an equal gust. 

Like Ireland shocks, be seems two natures join*d ; 

Savage before, and all betrimm*d behind ; 

And the well tutor*d curs like him will strain. 

Corns over for the king, and back again, &c 





This plau U founded en the novel ofihe Impertinent^ Curiosity^ in 
Don Quixote, It possesses no extraordinary merit. The satire 
of the Prologue f though grossly broad, is very forcibly expressed; 
and describes what we may readily allow to have been the career 
of many, who set up for persons of wit and honour about town. 

How comes it, gentlemen, that, now-a-days. 
When all of yon so shrewdly judge of plays. 
Our poets tax you still with want of sense ? 
All prologues treat you at your own expence. 
Sharp citizens a wiser way can go ; 
They make you fools, but never call you so. 
They in good manners seldom make a slip. 
But treat a common whore with — ladyship : 
But here each saucy wit at random writes. 
And uses ladies as he uses knights. 
Our author, young and grateful in his nature. 
Vows, that from him no nymph deserves a satire. 
Nor will he ever draw — I mean his rhime. 
Against the sweet partaker of his crime ; 


Nor is he yet so bold an undertaker, 

To call men fools — ^'tis railing at their Maker. 

besides, he fears to split upon that shelf; 

He's young enough to be a fop himself: 

And, if his praise can bring you all a- bed, 

He swears such hopeful youth no nation ever bred. 

Your nurses, we presume, in such a case. 
Your father chose, because he liked the face. 
And often they supplied your mother's plac^. 
The dry nurse was your mother's ancient maid, 
Who knew some former slip she ne'er betray'd. 
Betwixt them both, for milk and sugar-candy. 
Your sucking bottles were well stored with brandy. 
Your father, to initiate your discourse. 
Meant to have taught you first to swear and curse, 
But was prevented by each careful nurse. 
For, leaving dad and mam, as names too common. 
They taught you certain parts of man and woman. 
I pass your schools ; for there, when first you came. 
You would be sure to learn the Latin namej 
In colleges, you scom'd the art of thinking. 
But leam'd all moods and figures of good drinking ; 
Thence come to town, you practise play, to know 
The virtues of the high dice, and the low.* 
£ach thinks himself a sharper most profound : 
lie cheats by pence ; is cheated by the pound. 
With these perfections, and what else he gleans. 
The spark sets up for love behind our scenes, 
Hot in pursuit of princesses and queens. 
There, if they know their man, with cunning car- 
Twenty to one but it concludes in marriage. 

. * Loaded dice, contrived sotne for high, and others for low 


He hires some homely room^ love's fruits to gather. 

And, garret high^ rebels against his father : 

But, he once dead-*- — 

Brings her in triumph, with her portion, down-^ 

A toilet, dressing-box, and half a-crown * 

Some marry first, and then they fall to scowering 

Which is refining marriage into whoring. 

Odr women batten well on then* good nature } 

AH they can rap and rend for the dear creature. 

But while abroad so liberal the dclt is^ 

Poor spouse at home as ragged as a colt is^ 

Last, some there are, who take dieir first di^ees 

Of lewdness in our middle galleries ; 

The doughty bullies enter bloody drunks 

Iitvade and grubble one another's punk : 

Ttey caterwaul, and make a dismal rout^ 

Call sons of whores^ and strike, but ne'er lug out : 

Thus^ while for paltry punk, they roar and stickle, 

They make it bawdier than a conventicle. 

♦ Our author seennfg to copy himself in this pasisage. *' His 
old father, in the country, would have given him but little thanks 
for it, to see him bring down a fine-bred woman, with a lute and 
a dressing-box, and a handful of money to her portion."— p-TA^ 
Wild QuUant, Vol. II. p. 66. 






• m t ■ 

The two rival Companies ^ so long known by the names of the Kings 
and the Duke's players, after exhausting every effort, both of 
poetry and machinery^ to obtain a superiority over each other^ 
fvere, at length, by the expense of these exertions, and the incon-^ 
stancy oftlie puoUc, reduced to the necessity of uniting their for^ 
cesf %n order to maintain their sround. " Taste and fashion" 
says Colley Gibber, " 'with us, have always had mkgs, and fly 
from one public spectacle io another so wantonly, that I have^been 
informed, by those toho remember it, that a famous puppei'shoWy 
in Salisbury-change, then standing where Cecil-street now is*, so 
far distressed these txvo celebrated companies, that they ivere re- 
duced to petition the king for relief against it. Nor ought we, 
perhaps, to think this strange, when, if I mistake not, Terence 
himself reproaches the Roman auditors of his time with the like fond" 
nessfar the funambuli, the rope-dancers. Not to dwell too long, 
thefifbre, upon that part of my history , xjohich I have only collected 
ftom oral tradition^ I shall content myself with telling you^ that 
Mohun and Hart now growing old, {for above thirty years be* 
fore this time^ they had severally borne the king^s commission of 
mc^jdt and captain in the Civil Wars,) and the younger actors^ as 
Goodman,' Clark, and others^ being impatient to get into their 
partSf tind growing intractable, the auiuences too of both houses 
then falling off, the patentees of each, by the king's advice, (which, 
perMpSt amounted to a eomnutnd,) united their interests, and both 
companies into one, eachmve (f Mothers, in the year 1684. This 
unibn weis, however, so much in favour of the Duke's company, 
that Hart h^t tite stage ^pon itf and Mohun survived not long of* 

* lb tbis latft point Colley it» bowetcr, umtsOmau 8«e f. SBB. 



It appear*, that the king and queen hommred with their presence the 
Jirst perfonnance under the union they had recommended. Drum 
den's prologue abounds with those violent expressions of loyaMy 
with which James looed to be greeted j 

Since faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of &shioD, 
Their penny scribes take care t'inform the nation. 
How well men thrive in this or that plantation :* 

How Pensylvania's air agrees with Quakers^ 

And Caroluia's with Associators ; 

Both e*en too good for madmen and for traitors.f 

Truth is, our land with saints is so run o'er^ 

And every age produces such a store. 

That now there's need of two New Englands more. 

What's this, you'll say, to us and our vocation ? 
Only thus much, that we have left our station. 
And made this theatre our new plantation. 

The factious natives never could agree ; 
But aiming, as they cali'd it, to be free. 
Those play-house Whigs set up for property.^ 

* The American colonies^ from the time of the first troubles 
in the reign of Charles I., continued to be the place of refuge to 
all who were discontented with the government of the time, or 
experienced oppression under it. The settlers did not fail to ex- 
cite their countrymen to emigration, by exaggerated accounts of 
the fertility and advantages of their places of refuge, which were 
circulated by the hawkers. 

f The settlement of Pensylvania^ under the famous Pen^ had 
just taken place ; and the design of a Scottish insurrection, at the 
time of the Rye-house Plot, was carried on by Baillie of Jervis- 
woody under pretence of being agent for some gentlemen of the 
south of Scotland^ who proposed to leave their country, and make 
a settlement in Carolina. 

-^ This seems to allude to the mutiny of the younger actors 
against Hart and Mohun, mentioned by Cibber. The performers 


Some say, they no obedience pdd of late ; 
But would new fears and jealousies create, 
Till topsy-turvy they had tum'd the state. 

Plain sense, without the talent of foretelling. 
Might guess 'twould end in downright knocks and 

quelling ; 
For seldom comes there better of rebelling. 

When men will, needlessly, their freedom barter' 
For lawless power, sometimes they catch a Tartar;— 
There's a damn'd word that rhimes to this, call'd 

But, since the victory with us remains. 
You shall be call'd to twelve in all our gains. 
If you'll not think us saucy for our pains. 

Old men shall have good old plays to delight them ; 
And you, fair ladies and gallants^ that slight them. 
We'll treat with good new plays, if our new wits 
can write them. 

We'll take no blundering verse, no fustian tumor. 
No dribbling love, from this or that presumer ; 
No dull fat fool shamm'd on the stage for humour: f 

were also anxious to emancipate themselves from the thraldom of 
the patentees, which the^ did not accomplish till after the Revo- 
lution. They were emancipated by King William^ who considered 
them, sa^s Gibber, as the only subjects he had not yet relieved 
from arbitrary power. Dry den seems to allude to some ineffectual 
struggles made for this purpose, which he compares to those of 
the Whigs in the latter end of the reign of Charles II. 

* Alluding to the forfeiture of the city charter^ by the process 
of Quo Warranto, 

'*' Our author, who writes in all the exultation of triumphant 
Toryism, does not forget to bestow a passing sarcasm upon lus po- 

396 pmoLoouES akd epilogues. 

For, faith, some (tf them »uch vile stuff have 
As none but fools or fairies ever play'd ; 
But 'twas, as shopmen say, to force a trade. 

litical and personal enemy^ Shadwell. In the observations on 
'* Mac-Flecnoe," and elsewhere, we have noticed Shadwell's af« 
fectation of treading in the paths of Ben Jonson, by describing 
what he calls humours ; a word as great a favourite with the fat 
bard as with Corporal Nym. The following passage in the dedi<« 
cation of '^ The V irtuoso," may serve to explain what he means 
by the phrase : — 

'* I have endeavoured in this play, at humour, wit, and satire, 
which are the three things (however I may have fallen short in 
my attempt) which your grace has often told me are the life of 
a comedy. Four of the humours are entirely new : and, without 
vanity, 1 may say I never produced a comedy that had not some 
natural humour in it, not represented before, nor, I hope, erer 
shall. Nor do I count those humours which a great many do; 
that is to say, such as consist in using one or two bye-words ; or 
in having a fantastic extravagant dress, as many pretended huo 
mours have ; nor in the affectation of some French words, which 
several plays have shown us. I say nothing of impossible, unna- 
tural, farce fools, which some intend for comical : who think it 
the easiest thing in the world to write a comedy, and yet will 
sooner grow rich upon their ill plays than write a good one : Nor 
is downright silly folly a humour, as some take it to be, for it is 
a mere natural imperfection ; and they might as well call it a hu« 
raour of blindness in a blind man, or lameness in a lame one ; or 
as a celebrated French farce has the humour of one who speaks 
very fast, and of another who speaks very slow : But natural im- 
perfections are not fit subjects for comedy, since they are not to 
be laughed at, but pitied. But the artificial folly of those who 
are not coxcombs by nature, but, with great art and industry, 
make themselves so, is a proper object of comedy ; as I have dis^ 
coursed at large in the Preface to ^* The Humourists," written five 
years since. Those slight circumstantial things mentioned before, 
are not enough to make a good comical humour ; which ought to 
be such an affectation as misguides men in knowledge, art, or 
science ; or that causes defection in manners and morality, or per* 
verts their minds in the main actions of their lives : And this kind 
of humour, I think, I have not improperly described in the Epi- 
logue to ^^ The Humourists." 

'^ But your grace understands humour too well not to know diis; 


We've given you tragedies, all sense defying. 
And singing men in woful metre dying ; 
This 'tis when heavy lubbers will be flying. 

All these disasters we will hope to weather ; 
We bring you none of our old lumber hither ; 
Whig poets and Whig sheriffs* may hang together. 

and much more than I cao say of it. AU I have now to do, is, 
humbly to dedicate this play to your grace^ which hsis succeeded 
beyond my expectation ; and the humours of which have been 
approved by men of the best sense and learning. Nor do I hear 
of any professed enemies to the play^ butfiome women, and some 
men of feminine understandings, who like slight plays only that 
represent a little tattle-sort of conversation like their own : but 
true humour is not liked nor understood by them ; and therefore 
even my attempt towards it is condemned by them : but the same 
people, to my great comfort, damn all Mr Jonson's plays, who 
was incomparably the best dramatic poet that ever was, or, 1 be«- 
lieve, ever will be ; and I had rather be author of one scene in 
his best comedies^ than of any play this age has produced." 

* This inhuman jest turns on the execution of Henry Cornish, 
who, with Slingsby Bethel, was sheriff in 1680, and distinguished 
himself in opposition to the court.— ^See Note on <^ Absalom and 
Achitophel." Part I. vol. ix. p. 280. He was condemned as ao^ 
cessary to the Ryehouse plot, and executed accordingly on 23d 
October, 1685 ; probably a i^ort time before this prologue waa 
spoken, which Bugbt be in January l6S6. 





New ministers, when first they get in place. 
Must have a care to please ; and that's our case : 
Some laws for public welfare we design. 
If you, the power supreme, will please to join. 
There are a sort of prattlers in the pit. 
Who either have, or who pretend to wit ; 
These noisy sirs so loud their parts rehearse. 
That oft the play is silenced by the farce. 
Let such be dumb, this penalty to shun. 
Each to be thought my lady's eldest son. 
But stay ; methinks some vizard mask I see. 
Cast out her lure from the mid gallery : 
About her all the fluttering sparks are ranged ; 
The noise continues, though the scene is changed : 
Now growling, sputtering, wauling, such a clutter ! 
'Tis just like puss defendant in a gutter : 
Fine love, no doubt ; but ere two days are o'er ye, 
The surgeon will be told a woful story. 
liCt vizard-mask her naked face expose. 
On pain of being thought to want a nose : 
Then for your lacqueys, and your train beside. 
By whate'er name or title dignified. 


They roar so loud, you'd think behind the stairs 
Tom Dove,* and all the brotherhood of bears : 
They've grown a nuisance, beyond all disasters ; 
We've none so great but — ^their unpaying masters. 
We beg you, sirs, to beg your men, that they 
Would please to give you leave to hear the play. 

Next, in the play-house, spare your precious lives; 
Think, like good Christians,on your bairns and wives; 
Think on your souls ; but, by your lugging forth,| 
It seems you know how little they are worth. 
If none of these will move the warlike mind. 
Think on the helpless whore you leave behind. 
We beg you, last, our scene-room to forbear. 
And leave our goods and chattels to our care. 
Alas ! our women are but washy toys. 
And wholly taken up in stage employs : 
Poor willing tits they are ; but yet, I doubt. 
This double duty soon will wear them out. 
Then you are watch'd besides with jealous care ; 
What if my lady's page should find you there ? 
My lady knows t' a tittle what there's in ye ; 
No passing your gilt shilling for a guinea. 

Thus, gentlemen, we have summ'd up in short 
Our grievances, from country, town, and court : 
Which humbly we submit to your good pleasure ; 
But first vote money, then redress at leisure.^ 

* A Bear so called^ which was a favourite with the courtly 
audience of the Bear Garden. 

t See Note, p. 237. 

j: This was the course which Charles usually recommended to 
Parliament, who generally followed that which was precisely op- 




BY MEN* LBE, 1689- 

This play is one of the coarsest which ever appeared upon the stage. 
The author himself seems to be ashamed of it, and gives, for tb^ 
profligacy of his hero, the Duke of Nemours, the odd reason of a 
former pUy on the subject of the Paris massacre having been pro* 
hibitedf at the request, J believe, of the French ambassador. I$ee 
Vol. VII. p. 188. 

XiADiEs ! (I hope there's none behind to hear) 
I long to whisper something in your ear : 
A secret, which does much my mind perplex, — » 
There's treason in the play against our sex. 
A man that's false to love, that vows and cheats, 
And kisses every living thing he meets ; 
A rogue in mode, — I dare not speak too broad, — 
One that — does something to the very bawd- 
Out on him, traitor, for a filthy beast ! 
Nay, and he's like the pack of all the rest : 
None of them stick at mark ; they all deceive. ^ 
Some Jew has changed the text, I half believe ; > 
There Adam cozen'd our poor grandame Eve. J 
To hide their faults they rap out oaths, and tear ; 
Now, though we lie, we're too well-bred to swear. 


So we compound for half the sin we owe. 

But men are dipt for soul and body too ; 

And, when found out, excuse themselves, pox cant 

With Latin stuff, Perjuria ridet Amantum. 
I'm not book-learn'd, to know that word in vogue, 
But I suspect 'tis Latin for a rogue. 
I'm sure, I never heard that screech-owl hoUow'd 
In my poor ears, but separation follow'd. 
How can such perjured villains e'er be saved? 
Achitophel's not half so false to David.* 
With vows and soft expressions to allure. 
They stand, like foremen of a shop, demure ; 
No sooner out of sight, but they are gadding. 
And for' the next new face ride out a padding. 
Yet, by their favour, when they have been kissing. 
We can perceive the ready money missing. 
Well ! we may rail ; but 'tis as good e'en wink ; 
Something we find, and something they will sink. 
But, since they're at renouncing, 'tis our parts 
To trump their diamonds, as they trump our hearts. 

\ ± - 

\ Alluding to Shaflesbury and Charles II. in his own admirable 

VOL. X. 2 C 




Al qualm of conscience brings me back again^ 
To make amends to you bespattered men. 
We women love like cats, that hide their joys. 
By growling, squalling, and a hideous noise. 
I rail'd at wild young sparks ; but, without lying, 
Never was man worse thought on for high-flying. 
The prodigal of love gives each her part. 
And, squandering, shows at least a noble heart. 
I've heard of men, who, in some lewd lampoon, 
Have hired a friend to make their valour known. 
That accusation straight a question brings, — 
What is the man that does such naughty things ? 
The spaniel lover, like a sneaking fop. 
Lies at our feet : — he's scarce worth taking up. 
'Tis true, such heroes in a play go far ; 
But chamber-practice is not like the bar. 
When men such vile, such faint petitions make, 
We fear to give, because they fear to take ; 
Since modesty's the virtue of our kind. 
Pray let it be to our own sex confined. 
When men usurp it from the female nation, 
'Tis but a work of supererogation. 


We shew'd a princess in the play, 'tis true. 
Who gave her Caesar * more than all his due ; 
Told her own faults ; but I should much abhor 
To choose a husband for my confessor. 
You see what fate follow'd the saint-like fool. 
For telling tales from out the nuptial school. 
Our play a merry comedy had proved. 
Had she confess'd so much to him she loved. 
True Presbyterian wives the means would try ; 
But damn'd confessing is flat Popery. 

* The Princess of Cleves, in the play, confesses to her husband 
her love for Nemours. 







Lodomch CarleUf according to Lani^baine, was an ancient courtier^ 
being gentleman of the bows to King Charles I, ^ groom of the king 
and queen's privy chamber y and servant to the queen-mother many 
years. His plays, the same author adds, were well esteemed qf^ 
and acted chtejly at the private house in Blackfriars. They were 
seven in number. ** Arvira^us and Philicia" consisted of two 
parts f and wasjirst printed m 8w, 1639. The prologue^ which 
was spoken upon the revival of the piece, turns upon the caprice 
of the townf in preferring^ to the plays of their ownpoets^ the per* 
formances of a troop of French comedians^ who, it seems^ were 
then acting both tragedies in their own language. 

At ITH sickly actors, and an old house too, 
We're match'd with glorious theatres, and new ; 
And with our alehouse scenes, and clothes bare worn, 
Can neither raise old plays, nor new adorn. 
If all these ills could not undo us quite, 
A brisk French troop is grown your dear delight ; 
Who with broad bloody bills call you each day. 
To laugh and break your buttons at their play ; 


Or see some serious piece, which, we presume. 

Is fall'n from some incomparable plume ; 

** And therefore. Messieurs, if you'll do us grace. 

Send lacquies early to preserve your place." 

We dare not on your privilege intrench. 

Or ask you, why you like them ? — they are French* 

Therefore, some go with courtesy exceeding. 

Neither to hear nor see, but shew their breeding ; 

Each lady striving to outlaugh the rest. 

To make it seem they understood the jest. 

Their countrymen come in, and nothing pay. 

To teach us English where to clap the play. 

Civil, egad ! our hospitable land 

Bears all the charge fol: them to understand. 

Mean time we languish, and neglected lie. 

Like wives, while you keep bjetter company ; 

And wish for your own sakes, without a satire. 

You'd less good breeding, or had more good nature# 









** The prophetess^* of Beaumont and Fletcher^ ever^ in its oripnat 
state, required a good deal of machinery ;for it contains stage" 
directions for thunder^bolts brandished Jrom on hish^ and for a 
chariot dratvn through mid'air, by fltfing-dragons ; but it was ncfm 
altered into an opera, rvith the addition of songs and scenical de- 
corations , by Bettertonf in 1690. Our author wrote the follow* 
ing prologue, to introduce it upon the stage in its altered state. 
The music was by Henry Purcell, and is said to have merited ap^ 
plause. Rich, whose attachment to scenery and decoration is ri^ 
diculed by Pope, revived this piece, and piqued himself particU' 
larly upon a set of dancing chairs^ which he devised for the nonce. 

The prologue gave offence to the court, and was prohibited by the 
Earl of Dorset, Lord Chamberlain, after the first day's repre^ 
sentation. It contains, Cibber remarlcs, somejamiliar metaphor 
rical sneers at the Revolution itself; and, as the poetry is good, 
the offence was less pardonable. King William was at this time 
prosecuting his campaigns in Ireland ; and the author not only 
ridicules the warfare in which he was engaged^ and the English 
volunteers who attended him, but even the government of Queen 
Mary in his absence* 

\t HAT Nostradame, with all his art, can guess 
The fate of our approaching Prophetess ? 
A play, which, like a perspective set right. 
Presents our vast expences close to sight ; 


But turn the tube, and there we sadly view^ 
Our distant gains, and those uncertain too ; 
A sweeping tax, which on ourselves we raise, 
And all, like you, in hopes of better days. 
When will our losses warn us to be wise ? 
Our wealth decreases, and our charges rise. 
Money, the sweet allurer of our hopes. 
Ebbs out in oceans, and comes in by drops. 
We raise new objects to provoke delight. 
But you grow sated ere the second sight. 
False men, even so you serve your mistresses ; 
They rise three stories in their towering dress ; 
And, after all, you love not long enough 
To pay the rigging, ere you leave them off. 
Never content with what you had before. 
But true to change, and Englishmen all o*er. 
Now honour calls you hence ; and all your care 
Is to provide the horrid pomp of war. 
In plume and scarf, jack-boots, and Bilbo blade. 
Your silver goes, that should support our trade. 
Go, unkind heroes [ leave our stage to mourn, 
Till rich from vanquish'd rebels you return ; 
And the fat spoils of Teague in triumph draw. 
His firkin butter, and his usquebaugh. 
Go, conquerors of your male and female foes ; 
Men without hearts, and women without hose. 
Each bring his love a Bogland captive home ; 
Such proper pages will long trains become ; 
With copper collars, and with brawny backs. 
Quite to put down the fashion of our blacks. * 

* It was the fashion, at this time, to have black boys in attend- 
ance, decorated with silver collars. See the following advertise- 
ment : " A black boy, about fifteen years of age, named John 
White, ran away from Colonel Kirke, the 15th instant; he has 
a silver collar about his neck^ upon which is the Coloners arms 
i^nd cipher." Gazette, March 18f 1685. 


Then shall the pious Muses jpay their vows. 
And furnish all their laurels for your brows ; 
Their tuneful voice shall raise for your delights ; 
We want not poets fit to sing your flights. 
But you, bright beauties, for whose only sake 
Those doughty knights such dangers undertake. 
When they with happy gales are gone away. 
With your propitious presence grace our play 
And with a sigh their empty seats survey ; 
Then think, — On that bare bench my servant sat ! 
I see him ogle still, and hear him chat ; 
SelUng &cetious bargains, and projpounding 
That witty recreation, call'd dum-founding.*-^ 
Then- loss with patience we will try to bear. 
And would do more, to see you often here ; 
That our dead stage, revived by your fair eyes. 
Under a female regency may rise. 

* Selling bargains, a species of v^it common^ according to Swifl^ 
among Queen Anne's maids of honour^ consisted in leading some 
innocent soul to ask a question^ which was answered by the bar- 
gain-seller's naming his, or her, sitting part, by its broadest ap- 
Eellation. Dum-founding is explained by a stage direction in 
lury-Fair, where '' Sir Humphrey dum-founds the Count with a 
rap betwixt the shoulders." The humour seems to have consist- 
ed in doing this with such dexterity, that the party dum-found» 
ed should be unable to discover to whom he was indebted for the 




This plat/ was brought forward by Joseph Harris, a cwnedian, as 
his owriy although it is said to have been chiefly written by another 
person. It was acted in 1690. 

Enter Mr Bright. 

Gentlemen, we must beg your pardon ; here's 
no prologue to be had to-day. Our new play is like 
to come on, without a frontispiece; as bald as one 
of you young beaux without your periwig. I left 
our young poet, snivelling and sobbing behind the 
scenes, and cursing somebody that has deceived 

Enter Mr Bowen. 

Hold your prating to the audience ; here's honest 
Mr Williams just come in, half mellow, from the 
Rose-Tavern.* He swears he is inspired with claret. 

* This was quite in character. Gibber says of WiHiams, that 
his industry was not equal to his capacity, for he loved his bottle 
better than his business. Apology ^ p. 115. 



and will come on, and that extempore too, either 
with a prologue of his own, or something like one. 

here he comes to his trial, at all adventures ; for 
my part, I wish him a good deliverance. 

lExeunt Mr Brigut and Mr Bowen. 

Enter Mr Williams. 

Save ye, sirs, save y e ! I am in a hopeful way. 

1 should speak something, in rhyme, now, for the 


But the deuce take me, if I know what to say. 

1 11 stick to my friend the author, that I can tell ye, 

To the last drop of claret in my belly. 

So far I'm sure 'tis rhyme — that needs no granting ; 

And, if my verses* feet stumble — you see my own 
are wanting. 

Our young poet has brought a piece of work. 

In which though much of art there does not lurk^ 

It may hold out three days — and that's as long 
as Cork.* 

But, for this play — (which till I have done, we shew 

Whatmay be its fortune — by the Lord — I know not. 

This I dare swear, no malice here is writ ; 

'Tis innocent of all things — even of wit. 

He's no high-flyer— he makes no sky-rockets. 

His squibs are only levell'd at your pockets ; 

And if his crackers light among your pelf. 

You are blown up ; if not, then he's blown up him- 

* The taking of Cork was one of the first exploits of the re- 
nowned Marlborough. The besieging army was disembarked on 
the 23d September, 1690, and the garrison, amounting to four 
thousand men^ surrendered on the 28tb of the same month* 


By this time, I'm something recover'd of my flus- 

ter'd madness ; 
And now, a word or two in sober sadness. 
Ours is a common play ; and you pay down 
A common harlot's price — just half-a-crown. 
You'll say, I play the pimp, on my friend's score ; ^ 
But since 'tis for a friend, your gibes give o'er, > 
For many a mother has done that before. } 

How^s this ? you cry : an actor write? — ^weknow it; 
But Shakespeare was an actor, and a poet. 
Has not great Jonson's learning often fail'd ? 
But Shakespeare's greater genius still prevail'd. 
Have not some writing actors, in this age, 
Deserved and found success upon the stage ? 
To tell the truth, when our old wits are tired. 
Not one of us but means to be inspired. 
Let your kind presence grace our homely cheer ; 
Peace and the butt* is all our business here 
So much for that — and the devil take small beer. 

* A phrase in the *' Tempest," as altered by Dryden, which 
jseems to have become proverbial. 






This play is founded on the amours of Henry II. and the death of 
Jair Rosamond, John Bancroft, the author, was a surgeon, ami 
wrote another play called ^' Sertorius" He gave both the repu* 
tation and the profits of '^ Henry II y to Mountfort, the come^ 
dian ; and probably made him no great compliment in thejbrmer 
particular, though, as the piece was weU received, the latter might 
be of some consequence* Mountfort was an actor of great emi^ 
nence, Cibber says, that he was the most affecting lover within 
his memory • 

Thus you the sad catastrophe have seen, 
Occasion'd by a mistress and a queen. 
Queen Eleanor the proud was French, they say ; 
But English manufacture got the day. 
Jane Clifford was her name, as books aver ; 
Fair Rosamond was but her nom de guerre. 
Now tell me, gallants, would you lead your life 
With such a mistress, or with such a wife ? 


If one must be your choice, which d'ye approve. 
The curtain lecture, or the curtain love ? 
Would ye be godly with perpetual strife. 
Still drudging on with homely Joan, your wife ; 
Or take your pleasure in a wicked way. 
Like honest whoring Harry in the play ? 
I guess your minds ; the mistress would be taken. 
And nauseous matrimony sent a packing. 
The devil's in you all ; mankind's a rogue ; 
You love the bride, but you detest the clog. 
After a year, poor spouse is left i'the lurch. 
And you, like Haynes,* return to mother-church. 
Or, if the nameof Church comes cross your mind, 
Chapels-of-ease behind our scenes you find. 
The playhouse is a kind of market-place ; 
One chaffers for a voice, another for a face ; 
Nay, some of you, — I dare not say how many,— 
Would buy of me a pen' worth for your penny. 
E'en this poor face, which with my fan I hide. 
Would make a shift my portion to provide. 
With some small perquisites I have beside. 
Though for your love, perhaps, I should not care, 
I could not hate a man that bids me fair. 
What might ensue, 'tis hard for me to tell ; "J 
But I was drench'd to-day for loving well, >- 

And fear the poison that would make me swell. ) 

* The facetious Joe Haynes became a Catholic in the latter 
part of James the Second's reign. But after the Revolution, he 
read his recantation of the errors of Rome in a penitentiarj pro- 
logue, which he delivered in a suit of mourning. 



Gallants, a bashful poet bids me say. 

He's come to lose his maidenhead to-day. 

Be not too fierce ; for he's but green of age. 

And ne'er, till now, debauch'd upon the stage. 

He wants the suffering part of resolution. 

And comes with blushes to his execution. 

Ere you deflower his Muse, he hopes the pit 

Will make some settlement upon his wit. 

Promise him well, before the play begin ; 

For he would fain be cozen'd into sin. 

'Tis not but that he knows you mean to fail ; ^ 

But, if you leave him after being frail, >- 

He'll have, at least, a fair pretence to rail, j 

To call you base, and swear you used him ill. 

And put you in the new Deserter's bill. 

Lord, what a troop of perjured men we see ! 

Enow to fill another Mercury. 

But this the ladies may with patience brook ; 

Theirs are not the first colours you forsook. 

He would be loth the beauties to offend ; 

But, if he should, he's not too old to mend. 

He's a young plant, in his fir&t year of bearing ; 

But his friend swears, he will be worth the rearinfj. 


His gloss is still upon him ; though 'tis true 

He's yet unripe, yet take him for the blue. 

You think an apricot half green is best ; 

There's sweet and sour, and one side good at least. 

Mangos and limes, whose nourishment is little, 

Though not for food, are yet preserved for pickle. 

So this green writer may pretend, at least. 

To whet your stomachs for a better feast. 

He makes this difference in the sexes too ; 

He sells to men, he gives himself to you. 

To both he would contribute some delight ; 

A meer poetical hermaphrodite. 

Thus he's equipp'd, both to be woo'd, and woo ; 

With arms offensive, and defensive too ; 

'Tis hard, he thinks, if neither part will do. 





The eld plavy to which this prologtie was prefixed upon Us revival, 
was originally acted in 1634, three or jour years after the ap» 
pearance ofJonson's " Alchemist ;** to which, therefore, it could 
not possibly afford any hint, Dryden^ observing the resemblance 
between the fiays, took the plagiarism for granted f because the 
style of " Albumazar'* is certainly the most antiquated. This 
appearance of antiquity is, however, only a consequence of the 
vein of pedantry which runs through the whole piece. It was 
written oy Tomlcins, a scholar of Trinity College, and act* 

ed before King James VL by the gentlemen of that house, 9th 
March, 1614. It w, upon the whole, a very excellent play ; yet 
the author, whether consulting his own taste, or that qfournri* 

tish Solomon, before whom it was to be represented, has contrived 
to give it an air of such learned stiffness, that it much more re* 
sembles the translation of a play from Terence or Plautus, than 
an original English composition. By this pedantic affectation, 
the humour of the play is completely smothered; ana although 
there are several very excellent comic situations in the action, yet 
neither the attempt to revive it in Dry dens time, nor those which 
followed in 1748 and 1773, met with any success. 
As Dryden had imputed, very rashly, however, and groundlessly, 
the ^uilt of plagiarism to Jonson, he made this supposed crime 
the introduction to a similar slur on Shadwell, who at that time 
seems to have been possessed of the laurel; a circumstance which 
ascertains the date of the prologue to be posterior to the Revolu* 

To say this comedy pleased long ago, 
Is not enough to make it pass you now. 
Yet, gentlemen, your ancestors had wit. 
When few men censured, and when fewer writ. 


And Jonson, of those few the best, chose this. 

As the best model of his^master-piece. 

Subtle was got by our Albumazar, 

That Alchymist by this Astrologer ; 

Here he was fashion'd, and we may suppose, 

He liked the fashion well, who wore the clothes. 

But Ben made nobly his what he did mould ; 

What was another's lead, becomes his gold. 

Like an unrighteous conqueror he reigns, 

Ycit rules that well, which he unjustly gains. 

But this our age such authors does afford, 

As make whole plays, and yet scarce write one word; 

Who, in this anarchy of wit, rob all, 

And what's their plunder, their possession feall ; 

Who, like bold padders, scorn by night to prey. 

But rob by sun-shine, in the face of day. 

Nay, scarce the common ceremony use 

Of, " Stand, sir, and deliver up your Muse ;" 

But knock the poet down, and, with a grace. 

Mount Pegasus before, the owner s face. 

Faith, if you have such country Toms abroad,* 

'Tis time for all true men to leave that road. 

Yet it were modest, could it but be said, 

They strip the living, but these rob the dead ; 

Dare with the mummies of the Muses play. 

And make love to them the Egyptian way ; 

Or, as a rhiming author would have said. 

Join the dead living to the living dead. 

Such men in poetry may claim some part, 

They have the license, though they want the art ; 

And might, where theft was praised, for laureats 

Poets, not of the head, but of the hand. 

* This seems to have been a cant name for highwaymen. Shad- 
well's Christian name was Thomas. 

f Shadwell succeeded to our author's post of laureate afler the 

VOL. X. 2d 

418 FROLOOtms Aifft> iRVitootmn. 

They make the bcfnefits of others studying, 
Much like the meals of politic Jack-Pudding, 
Whose dish to challenge no man has the courage ; 
•Tis all his own, when once he has spit i'the porridge. 
But, gentlemen, you're all concerned in this ; 
You are in fault for what they do amiss ; 

« 1 1 >t 

Revolution. I am not able to discover, if Sbadwell had given any 
very recent cause for this charge of plagiarisoi. In ** The Liber- 
tine," « The Miser/' " Bury-fair," and •' The Sullen Lovers," he 
has borrowed, or rather translated, from Moliere. *' The Squire 
of Alsatia*' contains some imitations of Terence's ** Adelphi/' 
*' Psyche" is taken from the French, and '' Timon of Atheos" 
from Shakespeare, although Shadwell has the assurance to claim 
the merit of having made it into a play. He was also under ob« 
ligations to his contemporaries. The " Royal Shepherdess" was 
originally written by one Mr ]f ountain of Devonshire. Dryden» 
in '< Mac-Flecnoe/' intimates, that Sediey " larded with wit" his 
play of ** Epsom Wells ;" and in the dedication to " The True 
Widow/' Shadwell himself acknowledges obligations to that gen- 
tleman's revision of some of his pieces. Langbaine, who hated 
Dryden, and professed an esteem for Shadwell, expresses him- 
self thus, on the latter's claim to originality :— 

'' But I am willing to say the less of Mr Shadwell, because I 
have publicly professed a friendship for him ; and though it be 
not of 90 long date as some former mtimacy with others, so nei- 
ther is it blemished with some unhandsome dealings I have met 
with from persons where I least expected* it. I shall therefore 
speak of him with the impartiality that becomes a critic, and 
own I like his comedies better than Mr Dryden's, as having more 
variety of characters, and those drawn from the life ; I mean men's 
converse and manners, and not from other men's ideas* copied out 
of their public writings ; though indeed I cannot wholly acquit 
our present laureat from borrowing ; his plagiaries being in some 
places too bold and open to be disguised, of which I shall take no- 
tice, as I go along ; though with this remark, that several of them 
are observed to my hand, and in great measure excused by him- 
self, in the public acknowledgment he makes in his several pre- 
faces, to the persons to whom he was obliged for what he bor- 



For they their thefts still undiscovered think. 
And durst not steal, unless you please to wink. 
Perhaps, you may award by your decree. 
They should Itefund^ — but that can never be ; 
For, should you letters of reprisal seal. 
These men write that which no ipan else would 

Sfaadwell in the folloMng lineB, whfoh dccur in the prologue to 
the ^'Scowerers," seems to retort oh Dryden the accusation here 
brought against him : 

You have been kind to many of his plays* 
And should not leave hiraE in his latter days. 
Though loyal writers ot the last two reigns* 
Who thred their pens for Popery and cudns. 
Grumble at the reward of all his pains ; 
They would, like .some, the benefit enjoy 
Of what they vilely labimr'd to destroy. 
They cry him down, as for his place unfit* 
Since they have all the humour and the wit; 
^ey must write better e*er he fears them yet* 
*Till they have shewn you more variety 
Of natural, unstol^n comedy than he. 
By you at least he should protected be. 
*TiU then, may he that mark of bounty have^ 
Which his renown'd and royal nuuter gave* 
Who loves a subjedt, and oontebuur a slave i 
Whom heaven, in spite of hellish plots* d«ig;a*d 
To humble tyaats, and exalt tfaaiudnd* 


. « 

T ■ 



You saw our wife was chaste, yet throughly tried, 
And, without doubt, youVe hugely edified ; 
For, likt our hero, whom w^ shew'd to-dfty. 
You think no woman true, but in a play. 
Love once did make a pretty kind of show ; 
Esteem bnd kindness in one bi-east would grow ; 
But 'tw^s heaven knows how many years ago. 
Now some small chat, and guinea expectation, 
Gets all the pretty creatures in the nation. 
In comedy your little selves you meet ; 
'Tis Covent-Garden drawn in Bridges' street. 
Smile on our author then, if he has shown 
A jolly nut-brown bastard of your own. 
Ah ! happy you, with ease and with delight. 
Who act those follies poets toil to write ! 
The sweating Muse does almost leave the chase ; 
She puffs, and hardly keeps your Protean vices pace. 
Pinch you but in one vice, away you fly 
To some new frisk of contrariety. 
You roll like snow-balls, gathering as you run. 
And get seven devils, when dispossess'd of one. 


Your Venus once was a Platonic qiieeii, » 
Nothing of love beside the face was ^een ; - 
But every inch of her you now uncase, ' 

And clap a vizard-mask upon the face ; - 
For sins like these the zealous of the land. 
With little hair, and little *or no band,- 
Declare how circulating pestilences 
Watch, every twenty years, to snap offences. 
Saturn, e'en now, takes doctoral degrees ;* 
He'll do your work this summer without fees. 

* Perhaps our author had in view the three oppositions of San 
turn and Jupiter in June and December 1 692, and in Api-fl' "idO^ 
which are thus feelingly desoin^ted Updn by John Sylvester :- *^ It 
hath been long observed^ that the most remarkable mutations i)t 
a kingdom^ or nation, have chiefly depended on the oonjuilctions 
or aspects of those two superior planets, "Saturn and Jupiter; and 
by their eflfects past, we perceive that the most wise Creator first 
placed them higher than all the other planets, that they should 
respect, chiefly, the highest and most durable affairs and concerns 
of men on earth. 

" And if one opposition of Saturn and Jupiter produceth much, 
how then can those three oppositions to come do any less than 
cause some remarkable changes and alterations of laws, or religi- 
ous grders, in England's chief and most renowned city ? because 
Saturn then will be stronger than Jupiter, who also, at his second 
opposition, will be near unto the body of Mars, (the planet of 
war ;) and having took possession of religious Jupiter, should 
contend with him, (with a frowning lofty countenance,) in Lon- 
don's ascendant, from whence I fear some religious disturbances, 
if not some warlike violence, by insurrections, or otherwise, oc- 
casioned by some frowning dissatisfied minds, which will then 
happen in some part of Britain^ or take its beginning there to the 
purpose in those years. 

" Ah poor Jupiter in Gemini ! (London,) I fear thou wilt then 
be so much humbled against thy will, that thou wilt think thou 
hast a sufficient occasion to bewail thy condition ; and if so, God 
will suffer this, that thou mayest humbly endeavour to forsake thy 
accustomed sins, and that thou mayest know power is not in thee 
to help thyself. But yet I think thou wilt then have no need to 
fear that God hath wholly forsaken thee ; for look but a little 



Let all the boxes, Phoebus, find thy igvace, 
And, ah, preserve the eighteen-penny-place !^ 
But for the pit oonfounders let them go. 
And find aa little mercy as they show ! 
The actors thus, and thus thy poets pray ; 
For every critic saved, thou damn'st a play, 

back unto the yiearp 1632 and 1683, where Japiter was threp 
times in conjunction with Saturn, in a sign of his own triplidty, 
and consider, was not he then stronger than Saturn, and hast not 
ihovL been victorious ever since, throughout all those great changes 
and alterations ? And when thou hast thus considered, perhaps 
thou wilt believe, that that which begins well will end well ; and 
indeed perhaps it may so happen ; but be not too proud of this, 
A word IS enough to the wise. '-^Asirological observations and Prcr 
Jictionifor the year of our Lord 1691> iy Jchn Sifvcster. Lon- 
don, 1690, 4to. 
f TheGaUery^ 




This play was written by John Dryden, Junior, son to oiti^. poei* 
See the preface among our author's Prose Works, It was dedi» 
ceded to Sir Robert Howard, and acted in 1696. 

" * * 

liiKE some raw sophister that mounts the pulpit. 

So trembles a young poet at a full pit. 

Unused to crowds, the parson quakes for fear. 

And wonders how the devil he durst come there ; 

Wanting three talents needful for the place. 

Some beard, some learning, and some little grace. 

Nor is the puny poet void of care ; 

For authors, such as our new authors are, 

Have not much learning, nor much wit to spare 

And as for gralce, to tell the truth, there's scarce one. 

But has as little as the very parson ; 

Both say, they preach and write for your instruction ; 

But *tis for a third day, and for induction. 

The difference is, that though you like the play, 

The poet's gain is ne'er beyond his day ; 

But with the parson 'tis another case. 

He, without holiness, may rise to grace ; 



The poet has one disadvantage more, 
That if his play be dull, he's damn'd all o'er. 
Not only a damn'd blockhead, but damn'd poor 
But dulness well becomes the sable garment ; 
I warrant that ne'er spoil'd a priest's preferment ; 
Wit's not his business, and as wit now goes. 
Sirs, 'tis not so much yours as you suppose. 
For you like nothing now but nauseous beaux 
You laugh not, gallants, as by proof appears. 
At what his beauship says, but what he wears 
So 'tis your eyes are tickled, not your ears. 
The tailor and the furrier find the stuff. 
The wit lies in the dress, and monstrous muff. 
The truth on't is, the payment of the pit 
Is like for like, clipt money for clipt wit. 
You cannot from our absent author* hope. 
He should equip the stage with such a fop. 
Fools change in England, and n^w fools arise ; 
For, though the immortal species never dies. 
Yet every year new maggots make new flies. 
But where he lives abroad, he scarce can find 
One fool, for millions that he left behind. 

* Young Drydcn was then in Rome with his brother Charlei, 
who was gentleraan-usher to the Pope. 

« . 1 


( ■ '1 

t . 






The enmity between Dryden and Shadwell at first probablv 
only sprung from some of those temporary of disgust whicli 
inost frequently divide persons whose lives are spent in compe- 
tition for public applause. That they were occasionally upon to- 
lerable terms is certain^ for Dryden has told us so ; and Shad- 
well, in 1676 1 when expressing bis dissent from one of our au- 
thor's rules of theatrical criticism, industriously and anxiously 
qualifies his opinion, with the highest compliments to our author's 
genius.* They had formerly even joined forces, and called in the 
aid of another wit, to overwhelm the reputation of no less a per- 
son than Elkannah Settle.f But, between the politics of the stage 
and of the nation, the friendship of these bards, which probably 
never had a very solid foundation, wasat length totally overthrown. 
It is not very easy to discover who struck the first blow ; but it 
may be suspected, that Dryden was displeased to see Shadwell 
not pnly dispute his canons of criticism in print, but seem to esta? 
blish himself as an imitator of the old school of dramatic compo- 
sition, and particularly of Jonson^ on whom Dryden ha^ thrown 
some censure in his epilogue to ** The Conquest of Grenada," anci 
in the Defence of these verses. It seems certain, that the feud 
had broke out in 1675-6 ; for Shadwell has not only made some 
invidious allusions to the success of '* Aureng-Zebci" which was 
represented that ^easoQ, but has plainly intimated, that he needed 
only a pension to enable him to write as well as Dryden himself, j: 

* See the whole passage, VoL VII. p. 141, note. 

•f See the Remarks on the Empress bf Morbcco, written in oonjanction by Dry- 
den, Crown, and Shadwell. They were printed in 1674. 

4: These circumstances of offence occi^r in the prologue, epilogue, and preface 
to the ** Virtuoso,*' which must have been acted in the same season with ** Aureng 
Zebe,'* as the dedication is dated 26th June, 1676. The prologue commences 
with an irreverent allusion to that pUy, and to our ai^thofs theatrical engage^ 

You ciime with such «^i eager appetite 
To a late play, which gave so great delight. 


This assaulty however, seems to have been forgiven ; for Dryden 
obh'f;ed Shadwell with an epilogue to the ^< True Widow/' acted 
in 1678. But their precarious reconcilement did not long sub- 
sist, when political animosity was added to literary rivahry. Shad- 
well not only wrote the ** Lancashire Witches," in ridicule of 
the Tory party, but entered into a personal contest with our au« 
thor on the subject of *' The Medal," which he answered by a 
clumsy, though venomons, retort, called *^ The Medal of John 
Bayes." In the preface he asserts, that no one can think Dry- 
den ** hardly dealt with, since he knows, and so do all his old ac- 
Suaintance, that there is not one untrue word spoke of him." 
[either was this a single offence ; for Dryden, in his " Vindi- 
cation of the Duke of Guise," says, that Shadwell has repeat- 

Oar poet fears, that by so rich a treat 
Your palates are become too defi<;ate. 
Yet since you've had rhime for a reiUsbing bit. 
To give a better taste to comic wit ; 
But this required expence of time aud pains. 
Too great, alas ! for poets* slender gains. 
For wit, lilce china, should long buried^Iie, 
Before it npens to good comedy ; 
A thing we ne*er have seen since JonsMi^fl days, 
■ And but A few of bis were perfect plays. 
Now drudges of the stage must oft appear, 
They must be bound to scribble twice a year. 

Tliat these iLsinuations might not be mistaken, Shadwell, in the epilogue, se- 
verely attacks rhyming tragedies in general; the object of which diatribe, 
considering the late success of ** Aureng«Zebe,*' could not possibly be misinter* 

But of those ladies he despairs to-day, 

Who love a dull romantic whining play ; 

"Where poor frail woman's made a deity 

With senseless amorous idolatry, 

And snivelling heroes sigh, and pine, and cry. 

Though singly they beat armies, and huff kings, 

Kant at the gods, and do impossible things; 

Though they can laugli at danger, blood, and wounds. 

Yet if the dame once chides, the milk-sop hero swoons. 

These doughty things nor manners have nor wit ; 

We ne'er saw hero fit to drink with yet. 

The passage in the Dedication, in whicli he insinuates that the provision of a pen- 
sion was all he wanted, to place him on a level with the proudest of his rivals, is 
as follows : ** That there are a great many faults in the conduct of this play, I 
am not ignorant ; but I (having no pension but from the theatre, which is either 
unwilling, or unable, to reward a man sufficiently for so much pains as correct 
comedies require) cannot allot my whole time to the writing of plays, but am 
ibrced to mind some other business of advantage. Had I as much money, and 
as much time for it, 1 might perhaps write as correct a comedy as any of my con- 



edly called him Atheist in print. These reiterated insuks at 
length drew down the vengeance of our poet, who seems to 
have singled Shadwell from the herd of those who had libelled 
him, to be gibbeted in rhyme while the English language shall 
last. Neither was Dryden satisfied with a single attack upon this 
obnoxious bard ; but, having divided his poetical character from 
that which he held as a political writer^ he discussed the first in 
the satire which follows^ and the last, with equal severity, in the 
Second Part of ^' Absalom and Achitophel." These two admi- 
rable pieces of satire appeared within less than a month of each 
other; and leave it a matter of doubt, whether the bitter ridicule 
of the anointed Prince of Dulnessy or the sarcastic description of 
Og» the seditious poetaster, be most cruelly sevepe. 

*^ Mac-Flecnoe" must be allowed to be one of the keenest sa* 
tires in the English language. It is what Dryden has elsewhere 
termed a Varronian satire 9* that is, as he seems to use the phrase, 
one in which the author is not contented with general sarcasm 
upon the object of attack, but where he has woven his piece in- 
to a sort of imaginary story, or scene, in which he introduces 
tlie person, whom he ridicules, as a principal actor. The posi- 
tion in which Dryden has placed Shadwell is the most mortifying 
tQ literary vanity which can possibly be imagined, and is hardly 
exc^led by the device of Pope in the '^ Dunciad," who has ob- 
viously followed the steps of his predecessor. Flecpoe, who seems 
to have been universally acknowledged as the very lowest of all 
poetasters, and whose name had passed into a proverb for doggrel 
verse and stupid prose^ is represented as devolving upon Shadwell 
that pre-eminence over the realms of Dulness, which he had him* 
self possessed without a rival. The spot chosen for this devolu- 
tion of empire is the Barbican, an obscure suburb, in which it 
would seem that there were temporary theatrical representations 
of the lowest order, among other receptacles of vulgar dissipa- 
tion, for the amusement of the very lowest of the vulgar. Here 
the ceremony of Shadwell's coronation is supposed to be perform- 
ed, witli an inaugural oration by Flecnoe, his predecessor, in which 
all his pretensions to wit and to literary fame are sarcastically 
enumerated and confuted, by a counter-statement of his claims 
to distinction by pre-eminent and unrivalled stupidity. In this sa- 
tire, the shafts of the poet ^re directed with an aim acutely ma- 
lignant. The inference drawn concerning Shadwell's talents is ge- 
neral and absolute ; but in the proof, Dryden appeals with triumph 
to those parts only of his literary character which are obviously 
vulnerable. He reckons up among his titles to the throne of 

* See Essay on Satire, Vol XIII. p. G5. 


Flecnoe^ his despeHite and unsiiccessful attempti at lyrical com- 
position^ in the opera of '* Psyche ;" the clurarsy and coatee lim- 
ning of those whom he designed to figure as fine gentlemen' in his 
comedies ; the fa\i€ and florid ta6te of his dedications ; his pre- 
8um|>tuous imitation of Jonson in tofmposition, and his absurd re- 
semblance to him in person. But the satirist itidustriously keeps 
out of view those points, in which perhaps he internally felt some 
inferiority to the object of his wrath He mentions nothing that 
Could recal to the reader's recollection that insight into human 
life; that acquaintance with the foibles and absurdities displayed 
in individual pursuits^ that bold though coarse delineation of cha- 
facter^ which gave fame to ShadwelT's comedies in the last cen- 
tury> and renders them amusing even at the present day. This 
discrimination is an excellent proof of the exquisite address with 
which Drvden wielded the satirical weapon^ and managed the 
feelings of his I'eaders. We never find hmi attempting a despe-i 
tate or impossible tadc ; at least in a way which seems^ in the mo-t 
ment of perusal> desperate or hnpossible. He never wastes his 
powder against the impregnable part of a fortresSf but directs all 
his battery against some weaker spot^ where a breach may be reo« 
dered practicable. In short, by convincing his reader that he is 
right in the examples which he quotes, he puts the question at 
issue upon the ground most disaavantageous for his antagonisti 
and renders it very difiicult for one who has been proved a dunce 
in one instance to establish his credit in any other. 

1 have had so frequently to call the attention of my reader ta 
the sonorous and emphatic effect of Dryden's versification, that it 
is almost ridiculous to repeat epithets which apply to every poem 
which succeeded his Annies Mirahilis ; yet I cannot but remark, 
that the mock heroic may be said to have owed its rise to our au- 
thor, and that there is hardly any poem, before *^Mac-Flecnoe," 
in which it has been employed with all its qualities of grave and 
pompous irony, expressed in solemn and sounding verse. 

It is no inconsiderable part of the merit of «' Mac-Flecnoe/* 
that it led the way to the " Dunciad ;" yet while we acknowledge 
the more copious and variegated flow of Pope's satire, we must 
not forget, that, independent of the merit of originality, always 
inestimable^ Dryden's poem claims that of a close and more com- 
pact fable, of a single and undisturbed aim. Pope's ridicule and 
sarcasm is scattered so wide, and among such a number of au- 
thors» that it resembles small shot discharged at random among a 
crowd ; while that of Dryden, like a single well-directed bulleti 
prostrates the individual object against whom it was directed. 
Besides, the reader is apt to sympathize with the degree of the sa- 
tirist's provocation, which, in Dryden's case, cannot be disputed; 
whereas Pope sometimes confounds thosci from whom he had re- 


ceived gross incmlityi with others who had giren him no offence^ 
uttA with some whose characters were above his accusation. To 
|)bsterity^ the ^* Mac-Flecnoe" possesses a decided superiority 
over the " Dunciad^" for a very few facts make us master of the 
argument; whUe that of the latter poem^ excepting the Sixdi 
Book, where the satire is more general^ requires a note at every 
tenth line to render it even intelligiUe. 

Mr Malone has given us the title of the first edition of " Mae^ 
Flecnoe/' which the present Editor has never seeuy as indeed it is 
of the last degree of rarity. It was pidriished not hj Tonson, but 
byD. Green, and entitled^ /' Mac«Flecnoe, or a Satire on the 
True-blue* Protestant Poet> T. S.; by the Author of Absalom 
and Achitophel." It consisted only of one sheet and a half^ and 
was sold for twopence. The satire was too personal, and too poiff^ 
nant» to fail in attracting immediate attention, and accordmgijr 
the poem was quickly sold off! It was not republished until it 
appeared in Tonson's first Miscellany, in 1684, with a few slight 
alterations, intended either to point particular vieiMS, oar to cor* 
rect errors of the press, or pen. It must have been generalbr 
known, that Dryden was the author of this satire, both becattieit 
is stated in the title-page to be by the author of '^ Absalom and 
Achitophel," and because there existed no contemporary poet to 
whom so masterly a production could have been ascribed, even 
with remote probability ; yet Shadwell, in his dedication of the 
Tenth Satire of Juvenal, (a most miserable performance,) says, that 
Dryden, when he taxed him with being the author, *^ denied it 
with all the imprecations he could think of;" an accusation which 
was echoed by Brown, though apparently upon the authority of 
Shadwell alone, t From this averment, which is probably made 
far too broadly, we can only infer, that Dryden, like Swift in 
the same predicament, left his adversary to prove what he had 
no title to call upon him to confess ; for that he seriously meant 
to disavow a performance, of whieh he had, firom tkp very be» 
ginning, sufficiently avouched himself the author, can hardly be 
supposed for a moment. It has indeed been noticed, that our 
author has omitted this poem, as well as the ** £ulogy on Crom- 
well," in a list of his plavs and poems subjoined to one of his 
plays; but Dryden might not think fit to admit a personal, 
ancl what he probably considered as a fugitive satire, into a for* 

* This epithet preceded the nickname of Whig. See VoL IX. p. 211. 

-f- '* I make bold to use his own expression in ** Mao-Flecnoe,*' if it is hiif I 
•ay, for Mr Shadwell, in the pre&ce before his Translation of the Tenth Satire of 
Juvenal, has been lately pleased to acquaint the world, that he publicly disowned 
the writing it with as solemn imprecations as his friend the Spanish Fziar did the 
Cavalier U>renzo.**vi?^a#(m/, &c 


mal list of his poetry/ We know he enteitiioed a conscious 
sens^ of his dignity in this respect ; for, excepting in a slight Mid 
passing sarcasm, he never deigned to answ^ any of his literary 
adversaries^ excepting Settle and Shadwell ; and he might possi- 
bly think, on reflection^ that he had done the latter too much ho- 
nour in making him the subject of a separate and laboured poem. 
Mr Malone also conceivesi, that he might be with-held from in- 
serting this poem in an authoritative list of bis works, by delicacy 
towards Dorset, his recent benefieictor, who had thought Shadwell 
worthy of the laurel of which our poet had been divested at the 
Revolution. Be it as it may» he was afterwards so &r from dis- 
owning the poem» that, in the Essay on Satire, he gives it, with 
^' Absalom and Achitophelf" as instances of his own attempts at 
the Varronian satire* 

The purpose and scope of " Mac-Flecnoe" was strangely mis- 
construed by the object of it, and by our poet's editors* Shad- 
well took it into his heady that Dryden meant seriously to tax 
him with being an Irishman ; a charge which he sepsis more an- 
xious to refute than seems necessary. Gibber, or whoever wrote 
Drjden's Life in the collection bearing his name, supposes, that 
Flecnoe, who died in l67Sf had actually succeeded our author in 
the office of poet-laureat. Derrick, though he corrects this ^rrori 
bas fallen into another, in which he is followed by Dr Johnson, 
who considers ^' Mac-Flecnoe" as written in express ridicule of 
Shadwell's inauguration as court poet. The scarcity of the first 
edition of *'Mac-Flecnoe" might have been some excuse for these 
errors, had not the piece been printed in the first Miscellany, in 
1684, four years before Dry den's being deposed, and Shadwell 
succeeding him. Certainly the two events tallied strangely ; and 
the friends of Shadwell might have considered the substantial of- 
fice which he gained by the downfall of Dryden, as a just com- 
pensation for the ludicrous and mock dignity with which his foe 
had invested him. 


/ / ■ . 

Alt. human things are subject to decay. 
And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey. 
This Flecnoe found,* who, like Augustus, young 
Was call'd to empire, and had governed long ; 
In prose and verse was own*d, without dispute. 
Through all the realms of Nonsense, abs<Jute. 
This aged prince, now flourishing in peace. 
And blest with issue of a large increase. 
Worn out With businei^s, did at length debate 
To settle the succession of the state ; / 0- 

And, pondering which of all his sons was fit 
To reign^ and wage immortal war with wit. 
Cried,— 'Tis resolved ! for nature pleads, that he 
Should only rule, who most resembles me. 
Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, 
Mature in dulness from his tender years ; f • 
Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he. 
Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. 
The rest to some faint meaning make pretence. 
But Shadwell never deviates into sense ; ^ .- 

♦ Note I. t Note 11. 

VOL. X. 2 E 


Some beams of wit on other souls may fall. 
Strike through, and make a lucid interval ; 
But ShadwelVs genuine night admits no ray. 
His rising fogs prevail upon the day. 
Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye. 
And seems designed for thoughtless majesty ; 
Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plsdn, 
And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. 
Hey wood and Shirley * were but types of thee, 

J ^ Thou last great prophet of tautology ! 

Even I, a dunce of more renown than they. 
Was sent before but to prepare thy way ; 
And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget,f came 
To teach the nations in thy greater name. 
My warbling lute, — ^the lute I whilom strung,— 
When to King John of Portugal I sung, — 
Wjis but the prelude to that glorious day. 
When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way. 
With well-timed oars, before the royal barge,^ 

n Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge ; 
And big with hymn, commander of an host,— 
The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tost.^ 
Methinks I see the new Arion sail, 
The lute still trembling underneath thy nail.|[ 
At thy well-sharpen'd thumb, from shore to shore, 
The trebles squeak for fear, the basses roar ; 
Echoes, from Pissing- Alley, Shadwell call. 
And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall. 
About thy boat the little fishes throng, 

J J As at the morning toast that floats along. 
Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band. 
Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand ; 

* Note III. t Note IV. J Note V. 

§ VI. II Note VII. 


St Andres* feet ne'er kept more equal time. 
Not even the feet of thy own Psyche's rhyme. 
Though they in number as in sense excel ; f 
So just, so like tautology, they fell, 
That, pale with envy, Singleton :i: forswore 
The lute and sword, which he in triumph bore, 
And vow*d he ne'er would act Villerius more.—i 

Here stopt the good old sire, and wept for joy/ -iX) 
In silent raptures of the hopeful boy. 
All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, 
That for anointed dulness he Was made, > 

Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind, 
(The fair Augusta much to fears inclin'd,)^ 
An ancient fabric raised to inform the si^nt^ ' - 
There stood of yore, and Barbican it higbt ; 
A watch-tower once, biit now, so fate ordains. 
Of all the pile an empty name remains ; 
From its old ruins brothel-houses rise, ^^ 
Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys ; 
Where their vast courts the mother strumpets keep, 
And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep. || 
Near these a nursery erects its head. 
Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred ; 
Where unfledged actors learn to laugh and cry ; 
Where infant punks their tender voices try, 
And little Maximins the gods defy, /j 

r t 

* An eminent dancing-master of the period, 

t Note VIIL X Note IX. 

j Ailnding* to the political apprehensions of the period, so uni- 
versal in the city. 

II These lines are a parody on a passage in Cowley's Davideisy 
Book I. : 

Beneath the dens where unfledged tempests lie, 
And infant winds their tender voices try ; 

Where their vast court the mother waters keep ; 
And, undisturbed by moons, in silence sleep. 


Great Fletcher never treads in buskins h^ne, 
f ^ Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear ; 
But gentle Simkin* just reception finds 
Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds ; 
Pure clinches the suburbian muse afihrds^ 
And Pantonf waging harmless war with words. 
Here Flecnoe, as a pmce to fame well known, 
Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne. 
For ancient Decker^ prophesied long since^ 
That in this pile should reign a mighty prince^ 
Bom for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense ; 
9 \ To whom true dulness should some Fisyches owe, 
But worlds of Misers from his pen should flow ; 
Humorists, and Hypocrites, it should produce. 
Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce. $ 
Now empress Fame had published the renown 
Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. 
Roused by report of Fame, the nations meet. 
From near Bunhill, and distant Watling-street. 
No Persian carpets spread the imperial way. 
But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay ; 
'V^ From dusty shops neglected authors oome. 
Martyrs of pies, and relics of the bum ; 
Much Hey wood, Shirley, Ogleby there lay. 
But loads of Shadwell almost choked the way ; 
Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepared. 
And Herringman || was captain of the guard. 
The hoary prince in majesty appear*d. 
High on a throne of his own labours rear'd ; 

* The character of a cobler m an interlade. 

t A celebrated punster, according to Derrick. 

i Note X. § Note XI. 

I Henry Herrin^an, bookseller, published almost all the 
poems, plays, and lighter pieces of the day. He was Dryden's 
original publisher. 



At ills right hand our young Ascaniug^ sate^ 
Rome's other hope> and pillar of the state ; . 
His brows thkk fog, instead of glories, grace, 1)^ 
And lambent dulness play'd around his &ce. 
As Hannibal did to the altars come, 
SwOTn by his sire, a mortal foe to Kome, 
So Shadwell swore, nor ^ould his vow be vain. 
That he till death true dulness would maintain ; 
And, in his father's right, and realm's defence. 
Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. 
The king himself the sacred unction made. 
As king by office, and as priest by trade. 
In his sinister hand, instead of ball, M^ 
He placed a mighty mug of potent ale ; 
L#ove's Kingdom* to his right he did convey. 
At once his sceptre, and his rule ofsway ; 
Whose righteous lore theprincehad practisedyoung, 
And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung. 
His temples, last, with poppies were o'er spread, f 
That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head. 
Just at the point of time, if fame not lie. 
On his left hand twelve reverend owls cHd fly ;— 
So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tyber^s brook, V ^ 
Presage of sway fix)m twice six vultures took. 
The admiring throng loud acclamations make. 
And omens of his future empire take. 
The sire then shook the honours of his head. 
And from his brows damps of oblivion shed 
Full on the filial dulness : long he stood^ 
RepeUing from his breast the raging god 
At length burst out in this prophetic mood 

* A play q£ Flecnoe's so callffl. See Note XII. 
t Perhaps in allusion to Shadwell's frequent use of opium^ as 
well as to his dulness. 


Heavens bless my son ! fix>m Ireland let him reign, 
) </ To far Barbadoes on the western main ; 
Of his dominion may no end be known. 
And greater than his father's be his throne ; 
Beyond Love's Kingdom let him stretch his pen !— * 
He paused, and all the people cried. Amen.—- . 
Then thus continued he : My son, advance 
Still in new impudence, new ignorance. 
Success let others teach, learn thou from me 
Fangs without birth, and fruitless industry. 
Let Virtuosos in five years be writ, 
U') Yet not one thought accuse thy toU of wit.* 
Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage. 
Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage ; 
Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit,t 
* And in their folly shew the writer's wit ; 
Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence 
And justify their author's want of sense. 
Let them be all by thy own model made 
Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid ; 
That they to future ages may be known, 
^ \\ Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own : 
Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same. 
All full of thee, and differing but in name ; 
But let no alien Sedley interpose, 
To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.:]: 
And when false flowers of rhetoric thou would'st 

Trust nature ; do not labour to be dull. 
But write thy best, and top ; and, in each line. 
Sir Formal's oratory will be thine : 
Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, 
'"^'^ And does thy northern dedications fill.^ 

* Note XIII. t Note XIV. 

t Note XV. § Note XVI. 


Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame. 

By arrogating Jonson's hostile name ;* 

Let father Flecnoe fire thy mind with praise. 

And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. 

Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part : 

What share have we in nature, or in art ? 

Where did his wit on learning fix a brand. 

And rail at arts he did not understand ? 

Where made he love in Prince Nicander's Vein, ^ 

Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain ? f^^ 

Wheresoldhe bargains," whip-stitch, kiss my arse,"f 

Promised a play, and dwindled to a farce ? 

When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin. 

As thou whole Etheridge dost transfuse to thine ? 

But so transfused, as oil and waters flow. 

His always floats above, thine sinks below. 

This is thy province, this thy wonderous way, ^"^' 

New humours to invent for each new play : | 

This is that boasted bias of thy mind. 

By which one way to dulness 'tis inclined ; ^^^ 

Which makes thy writings lean on one side still. 

And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. 

Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence 

Of likeness ; thine's a tympany of sense. • 

A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ. 

But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. J 9-^ 

* Note XVII. 

t This elegant phrase is the current catch-word of Sir Samuel 
Hearty in the '^ Virtuoso," described in the dramatis persome as 
*' a brisk, amorous, adventurous, unfortunate coxcomb ; one that^ 
by the help of numerous, nonsensical bye-words, takes himself to 
be a great wit." 

i Alluding, probably, to the following vaunt of Shadwell^ in 
the Dedication to the " Virtuoso :" " Four of the humours are 
entirely new ; and, without vanity, I may say, I ne'er produced a 
comedy that had not some natural humour in it not represented 
before, and I hope I never shall." 


Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep ; 
Thy tragic muij^ gives smiles, thy comic sleep. 
With whate'er gall thou sett'st thyself* to write, 

l^ ^ Thy inoflfensive satires never bite ; 

In thy felonious heart though venom lies. 

It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. 

Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame 

In keen iambics, but mild anagram. 

Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command. 

Some peacefm province in Acrostic land. 

Th«!« thou may'st wings display, and altars raise,* 

And torture one poor word ten thousand ways ; 

O, if thou would'st thy different talents suit, 

^^ Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute. — 
He said.*— buthis lastwords were scarcely heard H 
For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepared, > 
And down they sent the yet decl^ming bard*! j 
Sinking he left his drugget robe behind 
Borne upwards by a simterranean wind. 
The mantle fell to the young prophet's part, 

^ )'] With double portion of his &ther'| art. 

• Note XVIII. 

f Bruce and Longvil are fine gentlemen in Shadwell's comedy 
of the " Virtuoso ;" who, during a florid speech of Sir Formal 
Trifle, contrive to get rid of the orator, by letting go a trap-door, 
upon which he had placed himself during a declamation. ' 




Note L 
This FtecnoeJound.—P. 4S3. 

Richard Flecnoe^ the unfortunate bard ^rhom our author has 
damned to everlasting fame^ was by birth an Irishman^ and by 
profession a Roman Catholic priest. Marvel^ who seems to have 
known him at Rome, describes his person as meagre in the ex- 
treme, and his itch for scribbling as incessant. The poem, in 
which Marvel depicts him, is in the old taste of extravagant bur- 
lesque, and the lines are as rugged as Flecnoe could himself have 
produced. It contains^ however, sqme witty and some humorous 
description^ and the reader may be pleased to see a specimen : 

Flecnoe, an English Priest at Rome. 

Obliged by frequent vuits of diis man. 

Whom, as a pnest, poet, musieiaii, 

I for tome branch of Mdehizedec took. 

Though be derives himself fiom my Lord Bfooke, 

I 80u^t his lodging, which is at the sign 

Of the sad Pelican, subject divine 

For poetry. There, thr^ stair-cases high. 

Which signifies his triple property, 

I found at last a chamber as 'twas said, . 

But seem'd a coffin set on the stair's head. 

Not higher than seven, nor larger than three feet ; 

There neither was a cdling, nor a sheet. 

Save that the ingenious door did, as you come. 

Turn in, and shew to wainscot half the room : 

Yet of his state no man could have oomplain*d. 

There being no bed where he emertainM : 


And though within this cdl so narrow pent, 
He*d ftaozaf for a whole apartement. 

•Nothing now, dinner staid. 

But till he bad himself a body made ; 

I mean till he were dressM ; for else, so thin 

He stands, as if he only fed had been 

With consecrated w|ifers ; and the host 

Hath sure more fledi and Uood than he can boast 

This basso-relievo of a num. 

Who, as a camel tall, yet easily can 

The needless eye thread without any stitch ; 

His only impossible is to be rich. 

Lest his too subtle body, growing rare. 

Should leave his soul to w^der in the air. 

He therefore circumscribes himself in rhyme:;, 

And, swaddled in*8 own paper seven times. 

Wears a dose jacket of poetic buff. 

With which he doth his third dimension stuff. 

Thus armed underneath, he overall 

Doth make a primitive sotana fall ; 

And over that, yet casts an antique doak, 

Worn at the first council of Antioch, 

Which, by the Jews Ions; hid and disesteemM, 

He heard of by traditiod and redeepiM ; 

But were he not in this black habit deckM, 

This half transparent man would soon reflect 

Each colour that he past by, and be seen 

As the camelion, yellow, blue, or green. 

It appears that Flecnoe either laid aside, or disguised, his spi- 
ritual character, when he returned to England ; but he still pre- 
served extensive connections with the Roman Catholic nobility 
and gentry.* He probably wrote upon many occasional sub- 
jects, but his poetry has fallen into total oblivion. I have parti- 
cularly sought in vain for his verses to King John of Portugal, to 
which Dryden alludes a little lower. Langbaine mentions foiu* of 
his plays, namely, "Damoiselles a la Mode," " Erminia," •* Love's 
Dominion," and " Love's Kingdom," (of which more hereafter ;) 
but none of these were ever acted, 'excepting the last. This 
gave Flecnoe great indignation, which he thus vents against the 
players in his preface to " Damoiselles a la Mode." " For the act- 
ing of this comedy, those who have the governing of the stage 
have their humour, and would be entreated ; and I have mine, 
and won't entreat them : and were all dramatic writers of my 
mind, they should wear their old plays thread-bare before they 

* An anonymous poet ascribes the estimation in which he was held to his 
poetical propensities : 

Verse the famed Flecnoe raised, the muses* sport, 
From drudging for the stage to drudge at court. 

' N0TE5 ON MAC-Fl4BqK0£, 443 

should have any new till tbey Ixittec understood their own inte* 
rest^ and how to distinguish betwixt good and bad." Notwith- 
standing this ill uaage^ hehonoured the players so far, as to pre^ 
"fix to each ^laracter, in the dramatis persome of his pieces, the 
name of the^actor, by whom^ had the managers been less inex- 
orable, he meant it should have been perfcnrmed. But thia he did 
iac the sake of the gentle reader, whom he assures, that a lively 
imagination being thus assisted in bodying forth the character, lie 
4Baaj receive as much pleasure from the perusal as from the actual 
representation of the performance. Flecnoe bore the damnation 
of the only one of his plays which was represented^ with the same 
valiant indifference with whidihe supported therebuffs of the play- 
ers. In ishort, he seems to have been fitted for an incorrigible scrib- 
bler, by a happy fund of self-satisfaction, upon which neither the 
censures of criticism, northe united hisses of a whole nation, could 
snake the slightest impression. When or how Flecknoe died is 
iineertain, and of very little consequence ; I presume, however, 
that he was dead when this satire was published. I am uncertain 
whether the reader will think, that this poor poetaster merited 
mercy at the hands of Dryden, for the following lines which he 
had written in his praise, and which, at any rate, may serve as a 
specimen of Flecnoe's poetry : 

Dryden, the muses darling and delight. 

Than whom none ever flew so high a flight : 

Some have their veins so drossy, as from earth. 

Their muses only seem to. have ta*en their birth. 

Other but water.poets are, have gone 

No farther than to the fount of Helicon : 

And they* re but airy ones, whose muse soars up 

No higher than to Moimt Parnassus top ; 

Whilst thou, with thine, dost seem to have mounted higher 

Than he who fetch from heaven celestial fire ; 

And dost as far surpass all others, as 

Fire does all other dements surpass. 

Flecknoe's memory being only preserved by this satire, his very 
name came to be identified with its title. King, in '' A Dialogue 
in the Shades," introduces him under the name o£ ikloc-Fleck- 
noe ; and Derrick falls into the same error. 

Note II. 

Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, 

Mature in dulnessfrom his tenaer yearsm^-^P* 433. 

Thomas Shadwell was bom at Santon-hall, in Norfolk, in 
which county his father represented a very ancient familv. He 
was educated at Caius College, in^ Cambridge, and placed in the 
Middle Temple to study law ; but, like many of the inhabitants of 


these baildings^ he preferred the smoother parts of litenHare. He 
made several essays in heroic verse^ all or which are deplorably 
bad. Thev are chiefly occasicmal pieces ; as, an Address to the 
Prince of Orange on his Landing, another to Qneen Maryy and 
a Translation of the Tenth Satire of Jnvenal ; which,4hotu^ pre- 
fiu^ by a violent refutation of our author's attacks upcmhiiii, is 
so ezecrabley as fully to confirm Dryden's omsures of toe author^s 
poetical talents. But in comedy he was much more sucscessftd; 
and, in that capacity, Dryden does him ffreatinjustioe,in pronpmi- 
dng him a dunce. On the contrary, I think most of Snadwell's 
comedies may be read with great pleasure. They do not, indeed, 
exhibit any brilliancy of wit, or ingenuity of intrigue; b^tthe d^ 
racters are truly dramatic, originu, and well drawn ; and the pic- 
ture of manners which they exhibit gives us a lively idea of diose 
of the audior^s age. As Sliadwell proposed JcHison for his model, 
peculiarity of diaracter, or what was then technically called 
numour, was what he d^efly wished to exhibit ; and in this, it 
cannot be denied that he has often succeeded admirably. His 
powers, as a dramatist, are highly rated by Rochester, wha im- 
putes his coarseness to rapidity of composition : 


Of all our modem wits, none seem to mo 
Once to have touch*d upon true comedy. 
But hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherlqr. 
Shadwelrs unfinished works do yet impart 
Great proofs of force of genius, none of art ; 
With just bold strokes he dashes here and there. 
Shewing great mastery with little care ; 
Scorning to varnish his good touches o*er, 
To make the fools and women praise them more. 

AUutUms to Tenth Satire of Horace- 

Shadwell's plays are seventeen in number, and were published, 
in four volumes, under the inspection of his son^ Sir John Shad- 
well, M. D. 

Shadwell's life was chequered with misfortune. As he espoused 
the party of the Duke of Monmouth, to whom he dedicated 
^' Psyche," and. of Shaftesbury, he thought himself obliged to 
draw the quill in defence of their cause. Accordingly, as we have 
seen, he attempted to answer *' The Medal" on the one hand, and 
on the other, accused our author of intending a parallel between 
Monmouth and the Duke of Guise, in the play so entitled. This 
zeal seems to have cost Shadwell dear; for, besides undergoing the 
severe flagellations administered by Dryden, in the " Defence of 
the Duke of Guise," in " Absalom and Achitophel," and in the 
present poem, he complains, that his ruin was designed, and his life 
sought ; and that, for near ten years, he was kept from the exer- 
cise of that profession which had afforded him a competent sub- 


sistence.* It is no wonder^ therefore, he was among the first to 
hail the dawn of the Revolution, by the address already mention- 
ed, of which the full title is, '^ A Congratulatory Poem on his 
Highness the Prince of Orange his coming into England. Writ- 
ten by T. & (ThomAs ShadweU,) a True Lover of his Country, 
(lOth Jatiuary) 16^9 ;" and that King William distinffui^ked him 
by ibe honours <^ the laurel. Dorset, who was hi^ cbamber- 
kon^ answered, to those who ramonstrated on ShadweU's lack of 
poetical talent, that, without pretending to vouch for Mr Shad-i 
wdH's genius, he was sure he was an honest man, Shadw^ did 
not long enjoy this triumph over his gi^t enemy. He died 19tb 
November* l6Q&ff m the fifty- second year of his s^^ It iasaid^ 
this event was hastened by his taking an over dose of opium, to 
the use of which he was mordinately addicted. ** His deadi," 
says Dr Nidiolas Brady, who preached his funeral sermon, 
" seized him suddenly ; but he could not be unprepar^, since, to 
my certain knowledge, he never took a dose of opium but he 80« 
lemnly recommended himself to God by prayer/' In person, 
Shadwell was large, corpulent, and unwieldy ; a circumstance 
which our author generally keeps in the eye of the reader. 
He seems to have imitated his prototype, Ben Jonson, in gross 
and coarse sensual indulgence, and profane conversation. But, 
if there be truth in a funeral sermon, he must have correct- 
ed these habits before his death ; for Dr Brady tells us, *' that 
our author was a man of great honesty and integrity, and invio- 
lable fidelity and strictness in his word ; an unalterable friendship 
wherever he professed it ; and however the world may be mis- 
taken in him, he had a much deeper sense of religion than many 
who pretended more to it His natural and acquired abilities," 
continues the Doctor, '^ made him ver^ amiable to all who knew 
and conversed with him, a very few bemff equal in the becoming 
qualities which adorn and set ofi* a complete gentleman : his very 
enemies, if he has now any lefl, will give him this character, at 
least if diey knew him so thoroughly as I did."— Cibbsb's Lives 
of the Poets, Article Shadwell, Vol. III. 

* £{nstle dedicatory to '* Bury.£ur/' addressed to the Earl of Dorset 
•f See the inscription intended for his monument in Westminister Abbey by his 
son Sir John Shadwell, in the Life prefixed to ShadvelVi Worics, But it was 
altered before it was placed in the Abbey, and a blunder in the date seems to 
luTe cre^ iB«*«See Cibbsr's Hva of the Poti9y VoL III. pw 49. 


Note III. 

Ileywood and Shirley. ^^V, 434. 

Voluranious dnunaUc authors, who flourished in the beginning 
of the l7th century. There were no less than four Heywoods 
who wrote plays ; so that, Wistanley says, the name of Heywood 
seemed to he destinated to the stage. But he whom Dryden here 
means, is Thomas Hey wood» a person rather to be admired for 
the fadlity, than for the excellence of his compositions. Every 
place and situation was alike to him while composing ; and the 
fiivourite register of his scenes was the back of a tavern bill. Far 
the greater part of his labours are now lost ; and yet there re- 
main, in the libraries of the curious, twenty-four printed plays by 
Thomas Heyv^ood* He was an actor by profession, and a good 
sdiolar, as is evinced by several of his classical allusions. Hisf 
plays may be examined with advantage by the antiquary, but af- 
ford slender amusement to the lovers of poetry. The following 
character of him, by an old poet^ is preserved by Langbaine: 

-Heywood sage. 

The apologetic Atlas of the stage ; 
Well of the golden age he conld entreat. 
But little of the metal he could get. 
Threescore sweet babes he fashioned at a lumpr 
For he was christenM in Parnassus pump, 
The mu^es* gossip to Aurora*s bed ; 
And ever since that time his face was red. 

If we cannot call Heywood a second Lope de Vega, in point of 
the extent of his dramatic works, he overtops most English au- 
thors ; since he assures us, in his preface to the ^* English Travel- 
ler," that it was one reserved among two hundred and twenty 
plays, in which he had either had " a whole hand, or, at the 
least, a main finger." It is a pity, as Johnson said of Churdiill, 
so fruitful a tree should have borne only crabs. 

Jaraes Shirley, whom our author most unjustly couples with 
Heywood, to whom, as well as to Shadwell, he was greatly su- 
perior, was born in 1594, and, although for some time a school- 
master, appears to have lived chiefly by the stage. When the Ci- 
vil Wars broke out, he followed the fortune of William, Earl of 
Newcastle. During the usurpation, when theatres were prohi- 
bited, he returned to his original profession of a schoolmaster. 
He died of fatigue and distress of mind during the great fire of 
London, in lGG6. He wrote forty-two plays, and there are thirty- 
nine in print ; a complete set of which is much esteemed by col- 
lectors. Dr Farmer has traced, to this neglected bard, an idea, 
which Milton thought not unworthy of adoption. 

NOTES ON mac-flecnoe: 447 

*' Shitley 18 spoken of witlLcontempt in *' MAO-Flecnoe,'' but 
his imagination is soroetimes fine to an extraordinary d^ree, I 
recollect a passage in the Fourth Book of the ** Paradise Lost," 
which hath been suspected of imhadon^ as a prettiness below the 
genius of. Mil$on ;.I mean^ where Uri^l glides backward and for- 
ward to heaven on a sun-beam. Dr Newton informs us, ^at this 
might possibly be hinted by a picture of Annabal Caracd, in the 
king of France's cabinet j but I am apt to believe^ that Milton 
bad been- struck with a portraitin Shirley. Fernando^ in the co- 
medy of ^^ The BrMhers/' l652, describes Jacinta'at vespers: 

Her eye did seem to labour with a tear, 
Which suddenly took birth* but overweigh^d 
With its own swelling, dropped upon her bosom ; 
Which, by reflection of her light, appearM 
' 'As ftatiire meant her sorrow for an ornament : 
After, her looks grew cheerful, and I saw 
A smile shoot graceful upward from her eyes. 
As if they had gained a victoiy o*er griefs . 
And with it many beams twisted U^cmselves^ 
Upon whose golden threads tJie angels walk 
To and again from heaven- 

Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare. 

Note IV. 
Coarsely clad in Norwich druggeL — P. 434. 

This stuff appears to have been sacred to the use of the pooref 
votaries of Parnassus ; and it is somewhat odd, that it seems to 
have been the dress of our poet himself in the earlier stage of his 
fortunes. An old gentleman^ who corresponded with the " Gen- 
tleman's Magazine/' savs^ he remembers our author in this dress. 
Vol. XV. p. 99. 

Note V. 

When thou on silver Thames didst cttt thy may^ 

With rvelUtimed oars, before tlie royal barge,—?. 434. 

I confess myself, after some research, at a loss to discover the 
nature of the procession, in which Shadwell seems to have acted 
as leader of the band. One is at first sight led to consider the 
whole procession as imaginary, and preliminary to his supposed 
coronation ; but on closer investigation, it appears, that Flecnoe 
talks of some real occurrence, on which Shadwell preceded the 
royiJ barge, at the head of a boat-load of performers. We may 
see, in the seventh note, that he professed to understand music, 
and may certainly have been called upon to assist or direct the 


baiuT during some entertunment upon the river^ aft flnuiieinent 
to which King Charles was particularly addicted. 

Note VI. 

7il&< like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tosi^^T. 434. 

This seems to be in ridicule of the foUowing elegant exprefluim 
whidi Shad well puts in the mouth of a fine lady : " Such a fd* 
low as hedeserves to he tossed in a blanket*" This, howerer^does 
not occur in '« Epsom- Wells," but in another of Shadwdl'a co< 
mcdiesy called *' The Sullen Lovers." 

• I 

Note VII. 

Methinks I seethe new Arion sail, 
The lute still trembling underneath % nail. — P. 434w 

Shadwell appears to have been a proficient in music^ and to 
have himself adjusted that of his opera of " Peyche," which Dry- 
den here treats yrith such consummate contempt. Indeed, in the 
preface of that choice piece^ he affected to valuehimself more upon 
the music than the poetry, as appears from the following passage 
in the preface : ^* I nad rather be author of one scene of comedy, 
like some of Ben Jonson's, than of all the best plays of this kind, 
that have been, or ever shall be written ; good comedy requiring 
much more wit and judgment in the writer, than any rhiming, 
unnatural plays can Jo. This I have so little valued, that I have 
not altered six lines in it since it was first written, which (except 
the songs at the marriage of Psyche, in the last scene) was all 
clone sixteen months since. In all the words which are sung, I 
did not so much take care of the wit or fancy of them, as the 
making of them proper for nmsic ; in which I cannot but have 
some little knowledge, having been bred, for many years of my 
youth, to some performance in it. 

** I chalked out the way to the composer, (in all but the song 
of Furies and Devils, in the fifth act,) having designed which 
line 1 would have sung by one, which by two, which by three, 
which by four voices, &c. and what manner of humour I would 
have in all the vocal music." 

Note VIII. 

Not even the feet of thy own Psyche's rhyme, 
Though they in number as in sense excel. — P. 435. 

This unfortunate opera was imitated from the French of Mo- 
liere, and finished, as Shadwell assures us, in the space of five 
weeks. The author having no talents for poetry, and no ear for 



versification^ '^ Psyche" is one of the most contemptible of the 
frivolous dramatic class to which it belongs. It was^ nowever/go^ 
up with extreme magnificence^ and received much applause on its 
first appearance, in 1675. To justify the censure of Dryden, it is 
only necessary to quote a few of the verses^ taken at random as a 
specimen, of what he afterwards calls '' Prince Nicander's vein :" 

Nicander, Madam, I to this solitude am come, 

Humbly from you to hear my latest doom. 
Psyche* The first ccmimand which I did give. 

Was, that you should not see me here $ 
The next command you will receive. 
Much harsher will to you appear. 
Nk* How long, fair Psyche, shall I sigh in vain ? 
How long of scorn and cruelty complain ? 
Your eyes enough have wounded me, 
You need not add your cruelty. 
You against me too many weapons chuse. 
Who am defenceless against each you use. 

The poet himself seems so conscious of the sad inferiority of 
his verses, that he makes, in the preface, a half apology, im<« 
plying a mortifying consciousness, that it was necessary to an* 
ticipate condemnation, by pleading guilty. " In a thing written 
in fiYQ weeks, as this was, there must needs be many errorSf 
ivhich I desire true critics to pass by ; and which, perhaps, I 
see myself, but having much business, and indulging myself with 
some pleasure too, I have not had leisure to mend them ; nor 
would it indeed be worth the pains, since there are so many splen- 
did objects in the play, and such variety of diversion, as will not 
give the audience leave to mind the writing ; and I doubt not but 
the candid reader will forgive the faults, when he considers, that 
the great design was to entertain the town with variety of music^ 
curious dancing, splendid scenes, and machines ; and that I do 
not, nor ever did intend, to value myself upon the writing of this 

Shadwell, however, had no right to plead, that this afi*ected 
contempt of his own lyric poetry ought to have disarmed the cri- 
ticism of Dryden ; because, in the very same preface, he sets out 
by insinuating, that he could easily have beaten our author on 
his own strong ground of rhyme, had he thought such a contest 
worth winning. So much, at least, may be inferred from e 
following declaration : 

'^ In a good-natured country, I doubt not but this, . my first 
essay in rhyme, would be at least forgiven, especially when I 
promise to offend no more in this kind ; but I am sensible that 
here I must encounter a great many difficulties. In the first 
place, (though I expect more candour from the best writers in 
rhyme,) the more moderate of them (who have yet a numerous 

VOL. X. 2 F 


party, good judees being very scarce) are very much offended 
with me, fcHr leavmg my own province of comedy, to invade their 
dominion of rhyme : but, methinks, they might be satisfied, since 
I have made but a small incursion, and am resolved to retire. 
And, were I never so powerful, they should escape me, as the 
northern people did the Romans ; their craggy barren territories 
being not worth conquering." 

Note IX. 
'Pale tviih env^j Singleton forswore 

The lute and sword^ rvkick he in triumph borCf 

And vowed he ne'er would act Fillerius more* — P. ^35, 

Singleton was a musical performer of some eminence, and is 
mentioned as such in one of Shadwell's comedies. — " 'Sbud, 
they are the best music in England : there's the best shawm and 
bandore, and a fellow that acts Tom of Bedlam to a miracle ; 
and they sing^ Charon, oh, gentle Charon ! and Corne my Daphne, 
better than Singleton and Clayton did." — Bury Fair, Act III. 
I^bene I. Villerius, the grand master of the knights hospitallers, 
is a principal character in *' The Siege of Rhodes," an opera by 
Sir William D'Avenant, where great part of the dialogue is in a 
sort of lyrical recitative ; in the execution of which Singleton 
seems to have been celebrated. The first speech of this valo- 
rous chief of the order of St John runs thus : 

Ann, arm ! let our drums beat. 
To all our outguards, a retreat ; 

And to our main-guards add 
Files double lined ; from the parade 

Send horse to drive the fields, 
Prevent what ripening summer yields ; 

To all the foe would save 

Set fire, or give a secret grave. 

The combination of the lute and sword, which Dryden alludes 
to, is ridiculed in " The Rehearsal," where Bayes informs his cri- 
tical friends, that his whole battle is to be represented by two per- 
sons ; *' for I make 'em both come forth in armour cap-a-pee, 
with their swords drawn, and hung with a scarlet ribband at their 
wrists, (which you know represents fighting enough,) each of 
them holding a lute in his hand. — Smith. How, sir ; instead of a 
buckler ?'^Bayes. O Lord, O Lord ! instead of a buckler ! Pray, 
sir, do you ask no more questions. I make 'em, sir, play the 
battle in recitaiivo ; and here's the conceit : Just at the very same 
instant that one sings, the other, sir, recovers you his sword, and 
puts himself into a warlike posture ; so that you have at once 
your ear entertained with music and good language^ and your eye 


satisfied vith the garb and accoutrements of war." — Rehearsal, 
Act V. The adverse generals enter accordingly, and perform a 
sort of duet, great part of which is a parody upon the lyrical 
dialogue of Vulerius and the Soldan Solyman, in the ^* Siege of 

Note X. 

Ancient Decker. — P, 436. 

Decker, who did not altogether deserve the disgraceful classifi- 
cation which Dn^den has here assigned to him, was a writer of the 
reign of James 1., and the antagonist of Jonson. I suspect Dry- 
den knew, or at least recollected, little more of him, than that he 
was ridiculed, by his more renowned adversary, under the cha- 
racter of Crispinus, in *^ The Poetaster." Indeed, nothing can 
be more unfortunate to an inferior wit, than to be engaged in 
controversy with an author of established reputation ; since, 
though he may maintain his ground with his contemporaries, 
posterity will always judge of him by the character assigned in 
the writings of his antagonist* Decker was admitted to write 
in conjunction with Webster, Ford, Brome, and even Massinger ; 
and though he was only employed to fill up the inferior scenes, 
he certainly displays some theatrical talent. Indeed he was iudged, 
by many of his own time, to have retaliated Jonson's satire with 
success, in ** The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet;" where Ben 
is designed under the character of Horace Junior. Besides, 
Decker possessed some tragic powers : *' The Honest Whore," 
which is altogether his own production, has several scenes of 
great merit. 

Note XI. 

But worlds qf Misers from his pen should flow ; 

Humorists, and Hypocrites, it should produce. 

Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce, — P. ^SQ, 

Shadwell translated, or rather imitated, Moliere's *' h'Avsire," 
under the title of " The Miser." In Langbaine's opinion, he has 
greatly improved upon his original ; but in this, as in other cas^, 
the critic is probably singular. *^ The Miser" was printed in 

" The Humorists" was a play professedly written to expose 
the reiff ning vices of the age ; but as it was supposed to contain 
many direct personal allusions, it was unfavourably received by 
the audience. Shadwell, by way, I suppose, of insinuating to 
the readers an accurate notion of the characters, or humours, 
which he means to represent, is, in this and other pieces, at great 


pains to give a long and minute account of each individual in the 
dramatis pertona* Thus we have in '^ The Humorists/' 

'^ CraxVt — One that is in pox, in debt^ and all the misfortunes 
that can be ; and^ in the midst of all, in love with most women, 
and thinks most women in love with him. 

*' Drybob, — A fantastic coxcomb* that makes it his business to 
speak mie things and wit, as he thinks ; and always takes notice, 
or makes others take notice^ of any thin^ he thinks well said. 

Brisk, — A brisk, airy, fantastic, singing, dancing coxcomb, 
that sets up for a well-bred man, and a man of honour ; but mis- 
takes in every thing, and values himself only upon the vanity and 
foppery of gentlemen." 

I do not know what to make of the *' Hypocrites." Shadwell 
wrote no play so entitled ; nor is it likely he gave any assistance 
to Medboume, who translate the famous *' Tartuffe" of Moliere, 
for they were of different opinions in religion and politics. Per- 
haps Dryden means the characters of the Irish priest and Tory 
chaplain in *' The Lancashire Witches." 

Ra3rmond is a character in '^ The Humorists," described in the 
dramatis personoe as a '^ gentleman of wit and humour." Bruce, 
a similar person in " The Virtuoso," characterized as a " gen- 
tleman of wit and sense." In tiiese, and in all other characters 
where wit and an easy style were requisite, Shadwell failed to* 
tally. His forte lay in broad, strong comic painting. ^ 

Note XII. 

Oglehy.—?. 436. 

This gentleman, whose name, thanks to our author and Pope, 
has become almost proverbial for a bad poet, was originally a 
Scottish dancing-master, when probably Scottish dancing was not 
so fashionable as at present, and afterwards master of tJie revels 
in Ireland. He translated " The Iliad," " The Odyssey," '' The 
iEneid," and " Esop's Fables," into verse; and his versions were 
splendidly adorned with sculpture. He also wrote three epic 
poems, one of which was fortunately burnt in the Fire of London. 
Moreover he conducted the ceremony of Charles the Second's co- 
ronation,* and erected a theatre in Dublin. 

• See Vol. IX. p. 61. 


" Lom*s Kingdom:'—?. 437. 

This was a play of Flecnoe's. The full title is, *' Love's 
Kingdom, a Pastoral Tragi-Comedy ; not as it was acted at the 
theatre, near Lincoln's-Inn, hut as it was written, and since cor« 
rected hj Richard Flecnoe ; with a short treatise of the English 
stage, &c. by the same author. London, printed by R. Wood for 
the author, 1664." 

The author's account of this piece, in the advertisement, i)s, 
** For the plot, it is neat and handsome, and the language soft 
and gentle, suitable to the persons who speak ; neither on the 
ground, nor in the clouds, but just like die stage, somewhat ele- 
vated above the common. In neither no stiffness, and, I hope, 
no impertinence nor extravagance, into which your young wri« 
ters are too apt to run, who, whilst they know not well what to 
^o, and are anxious to do enough, most commimly overdo. 



Spoken by Venus from ihe Cloudt* 

If ever you have heard of Venus' name. 

Goddess of Beauty, I that Venus am ; 

Who have to^y descended from my sphere. 

To welcome you unto ** Love's Kingdom" here ; 

Or rather to my sphere am come, since I 

Am present no where more nor in the sky. 

Nor any ishmd in the woHd than this. 

That wholly from the world divided is : 

For Cupid, you behold him here in me, 

(For there where beauty is. Love needs must be,) 

Or you may yet more easily descry 

Him 'mong Uie ladies, in each amorous eye ; 

And 'mongst the galhmts may as easily trace 

Him to their bosoms from each beauteous face. 

May then, fair ladies, you 

Find all your servants true ; 

And, gallants, may you find 

The l^ies all as lund. 

As by your noble favours you declare 

How much you friends unto ** Love*s Kingdom** are ; 

Of which yourselves compose so great a part. 

In your fiur eyes, and in your loving heart. 

This specimen of *^ Love's Kingdom" is extracted from the 
^'Censura LUeraria," No. IX. ; to which publication it was com- 
municated by Mr Preston of Dublin. To '' Love's Ean^om" 
Flecnoe subjoined a Discourse on the English Stage^ wmch is 
sometimes quoted as authority. 


Note XIII. 

Let Viriuoiog in Jive years he writ. 

Yet not one thought accuse thy toil cfwit.^-'V. ^S. 

Shadwell's comedy called '* The Virtuoso/' was first acted in 
1676 with ffreat applause. It is by no means destitute of merit; 
though, as m all his other pieces, it is to be found rather in the 
walk of coarse humour, than of elegance, or wit 

The character of Sir Nicholas Gimcradk, the Virtuoso, whose 
time was spent in discoveries, although he had never invented any 
thing so useful as an engine to pare a cream cheese with, is very 
ludicrous. I cannot, however, but notice, that some of the disco- 
veries, which are ridiculed with so much humour, as the composi- 
tion of various kinds of air, for example, have been realized by the 
philosophers of this age. As the whole piece seems intended as a 
satire on the researches of the Royal Society, its scope could not 
be very pleasing to Dryden, a zealous member of that learned 
body ; even if he could have forgiven some hits levelled against 
him personally in the preface and the epilogue, which have been 
quoted in the introduction to Mac-Flecnoe. 

Note XIV. 

Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage, 

Make Dorimani betray, and Loveit rage ; 

Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit.^^V, ^S, 

The plays of Sir George Etherege were much admired during 
the end of the 17th and beginning of the 18th century, till the re- 
finement of taste condemned their indecency and immorality. Sir 
George himself was a courtier of the first rank in the gay court 
of Charles II. Our author has addressed an epistle to him, when 
he was Resident at Ratisbon. Etherege followed King James to 
France, according to one account ; but others say he was killed 
at Ratisbon by a fall down stairs, after he had been drinking free- 
ly. Sir Fopling Flutter, Dorimant, and Loveit, are characters in 
his well-known comedy, " The Man of Mode." Cully and Cock- 
wood occur in ^' Love in a Tub," another of his plays. 

Note XV. 

But lei no alien Sedley interpose. 

To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.'^V. 438. 

The first edition bears Sydney, which is evidently a mistake. 
Shadwell's comedy of" Epsom Wells" was very successful ; which 
was imputed by his enemies to the assistance he received from 


the witty Sir Charles Sedley. This he attempts to refute in the 
following lines of the second prologue, spoken when the piece was 
represented before the king and queen at Whitehall : 

If this for him had been by others done. 
After this honour sure tbey*]l claim their own. 

But it is nevertheless certain, that Shadwell acknowledges obli« 
gations of the nature supposed, in the Dedication of the '^ True 
Widow" to Sir Charles Sedley. '' No success whatever," he there 
savs, " could have made me alter my opinion of this comedy^ 
which had the benefit of your correction and alteration^ and the 
honour of your approbation. And I heartily wish you had given 
yourself the trouble to have reviewed all my plaiys, as they came 
inaccurately^ and in haste^ from my hands : it would have been 
more to my advantage than the assistance of Scipio and Lelius was 
to Terence : and I should have thought it at least as much to my 
honour, since, by the effects, I find I cannot but esteem you aa 
much above both of them in wit, as either of them was above you 
in place of the state." 

There was a general opinion current, that Shadwell received 
assistance in his most successful pieces. A libel of the times, the 
reference to which I have mislaid, mentions with contempt the 
dulness of his *^ unassisted scenes.*' 

Note XVI. 

Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quiU, 
; And does thy northern dedications Jill» — P. 438. 

Sir Fonnal Trifle is a florid conceited orator in " The Virtuoso," 
whose character is drawn and brought out with no inconsiderable 
portion of humour. Dryden intimates, that his coxcomical infla- 
ted style attends Shadwell himself upon the most serious occa^ 
sions, and particularly in his dedications to the Duke and Duchess 
of Newcastle, to whom he has inscribed several of his plays. Hence 
Dryden, in the " Vindication of the Duke of Guise," calls him 
the Northern Dedicator. The truth is, that Shadwell's prose was 
inflated and embarrassed ; and his adulation comes awkwardly 
from him, as appears from the opening of the dedication of that 
very play, ** The Virtuoso," to tne Duke of Newcastle. 

" So long as your grace persists in obliging, I must so on in 
acknowledging ; nor can I let any opportunity pass of telling the 
world how much I am favoured by you, or any occasion slip of 
assuring your grace, that all the actions of my life shall be dedi- 
cated to your service ; who, by your noble patronage, your gene- 
rosity and kindness, and your continual bounty, have made me 
wholly your creature : nor can I forbear to declare, that I am 




mere ohDged to jour gnoe than to all mankind. And my itA^ 
fortune im, I can make no ether return^ but a dedaraticm ai my 
grateful attarhmimti" 

Note XVIL 

Nor let fake JHmd* seduce fAy mind tofame. 
By arrcgaUng Joneon^s kotHU fMmie.-^P. 4S9. 

Shadwell, as appears from many passages of his prologues and 
pte&ce; and as we have had repeated occasion to notice^ affected 
to consider Ben Jonson as the obiect of his emulation. There 
were indeed many points of resemblance between them^ both as- 
anthors and men. In their habits, a life spent in taverns^ and 
in their persons, huge corpulence, probably acquired by habits of 
sensual mdulffence^ much coarseness of manners, and an ungentle- 
manly vulffanty of dialect, seem to have distinguished both the 
original and the imitator. As a dramatist, although ShadweQ £UI» 
short of the learned vigour and deep erudition of Ben Jonson, his 
dry hard comic painting entitles him to be considered as an infe- 
rior artist of the same school. Dryden more particularly resented 
Shadwell's reiterated and affected praises of Jonson, because he 
had himself censured that writer in the epilogue to '' The Conquest 
of Granada," and in the critical defence ofthat poem.* Hence 
he considered Shadwell's ranking himself under Jonson's banners 
as a sort of personal defiance. But Dryden more particularly al- 
ludes to the following ebullition of admiration, which occurs in 
the epilogue to Shadwell's ^' Humorists :" 

The mighty prince of poets, learned Ben^ 

^ho alone dived into the minds of men. 

Saw all their wanderings, aU their foIHes knew. 

And all their vain fantastic passions drew 

In images so lively and so true. 

That there each hwnorist himself might view ; 

Yet only lashM the errors of the times. 

And ne er exposed the persons, but the crimes ; 

And never cared for private frowns, when he 

Did but chastise public iniquity : 

He fear*d no pimp, no pickpocket, or drab ; 

He feat*d no bravo, nor no ruffian's stab : 

'Twas he alone true humours understood. 

And with great wit and judgment made them good. 

A humour is the bias of the mind. 

By which with violence 'tis one way inclined ; 

• See Vol IV. p. 211, &c. 


It makes our actions leaiL oo one side still. 
And in all dianges that way bends the wiU. 

He only knew and represented rigbt 
Thus none, but mighty Jonson, e'er oouU wiite» 
Expect not then, sinoe that most flourishing age 
Of Ben, to see true humour on tiie stages 
All that have since been writ, if they Im scann*d. 
Are but faint copies from that master's hand. 
Our poet now, amongst those petty things, 
Alas! his too weak trifling humour brings ; 
As much beneath the worst in Jonson's ^ys. 
As his sreat merit is above our praise. 
For coiud he imitate that great author right, 
He would with ease all poets else outwtite. 
But to outgo all other men, would be, 
O noble Ben ! less than to follow theew 

' Dryden, in the text, turns the idea of bias into ridicule ; for its 
original application beinff to the leaden weight disposed in the 
centre of a bowl, which inclines its course in rolling, he alleges^ 
that the onl^ bias whidi can influence Shadwell is ms predomi* 
nant stupidity. 

Note XIX. 

Leave rvrilir^ plat^Sf and chusefor thy command. 
Some peacefvi province in Acrostic land. 
There thou may* si tvings display ^ and altars raisCf 
And torture one poor word ten thousand ways^^^F* 440. 

Among other efforts of gentle dulness^ may be noticed the sin- 
gular fashion which prevailed during the earlier period of the 1 7th 
centurv, of writing m such changes of measure, that by the dif- 
ferent length and arrangement of the lines, the poem was made to 
resemble an egg, an altar, a pair of wings, a cross, or some other 
fanciful figure. This laborious kind of tricing was much akin to 
the anagrams and acrostics. Those who are curious to read, or 
rather to see, a specimen of such whimsies^ (for they are raUier 
addressed to the eye than the understanding,) may find a dirge 
of Mr George WiUiers, arranged into the figure of a rhomboid, 
in Ellis's '' Specimens of the Early English Poets," VoL III. p. 
100. They are mentioned with anagrams, acrostics, rebuses, and 
other exercises of false wit, in the *' Spectator," No. 63. 


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