Miscellaneous LETTERS AND ESSAYS, On several SUBJECTS.  
Philosophical, Moral, Historical, Critical, Amorous, etc. in Prose and Verse.  
DIRECTED TO 

John Dryden, Esq  
The Honourable Geo. Granvill, Esq  
Walter Moil, Esq  
Mr. Dennis,  
Mr. Congreve,   And other Eminent Men of th' Age.  
By several Gentlemen and Ladies.  
LONDON: Printed for Benjamin Bragg, at the White-Hart, over against Water-Lane in Fleetstreet, 1694.   

TO THE HONOURABLE Sir JOHN TRENCHARD, Their Majesty's Principal Secretary of State. And one of the Lords of their Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council.  
Honoured Sir,  
I am so far from being Apprehensive of the Censure of any thinking Man, for Dedicating a Book of this Nature to a Man of your Station, that I'm satisfied I should have injured your Merit in choosing any other Patron for That, in which the Glory of the ENGLISH NATION is in some Degree defended: for tho' I confess the State's Man (according to our Modern Notion) has little to do with the ensuing Discourses; yet I'm very sure the TRUE ENGLISH MAN (a Name I know you far more value) must extremely interest you in them; for the Patriots Zeal ought to extend to the Glory, as well as Happiness of his Country: so that you must be pleased to shelter with your Protection, a Piece that aims at a Vindication of our known RIGHT and HONOUR, which are impiously invaded, and as weakly, as ignobly betrayed to a Foreign People, by a biggotted Veneration for a former Age. But Poetry, Sir, will appear from the following Essays, to be a Prize we ought no more to surrender to Foreign Nations than our Courage or Liberty. For Greece and Rome, who have given us the noblest Examples of the Latter, have been the most famous for the Former. And as we are not inferior to either of those Commonwealths, in the Honour of Arms, or the Wisdom of our Laws, so I can never yield them the precedence in Poetry.  
Nor is this Glory I plead for, a mere Noitionary Fantout, which affords no Benefit to the Public, as is evident from its very Nature and Design, as well as the Authority of the Wisest Nations, who have Esteemed POETS very necessary, as well as very Honourable Members of the Commonwealth. This Athens thought, when on the loss of Eupolis in a Sea Fight, she decreed that no Poet should for the future, ever venture himself in the War, lest by one Fatal Blow, a Treasure should be lost, an Age could not repair, for POETS were not born every Day.  
But this Veneration which Greece paid the Poets, is built on the innate Excellence of their Art. Pleasure is the Sovereign Aim of all Men, 'tis that which the Soul naturally and justly desires, and for which 'tis made, and what the greatest Stoic pursues; for 'tis impossible for any Man to desire Pain. Now Poetry does not only make Pleasure, its Medium but its Aim, and so employs the surest Means to obtain the noblest End. Majestic and delightful Numbers, surprising and noble Thoughts, and Charming Expressions, awake all the Faculties of the Soul, to receive the Mighty Lessons it imparts, which all terminate in the most Solid, and Rational Pleasure. For they either establish some Virtue by a great Example, or by the same, punish some Vice, or redicule, and lash some Folly, that may be injurious to our Happiness; the Establishment of which on the Basis of Virtue and Wisdom, fixes us in the sweet Enjoyment of the Greatest and most lasting of Pleasures.  
As a farther Proof of Poetry's, being a Friend to, and promoter of Virtue; and an Enemy to Vice, 'tis observable, that all the Heroes and Men of Virtue of Antiquity loved and encouraged Poetry, and that the worst of Princes, and greatest TYRANTS always persecuted, and hated the Poets, as their known and most dangerous Enemies, for they would spare no Vice in the most powerful Offenders. Lucan feared not in the time of the greatest Tyrant of the Caesars, to extol Cato the most obstinate Stickler for his Countries Liberty against the first of 'em; and he chooses rather to condemn Providence for the success, the destroyers of the Liberty of Rome met with, than not praise Cato for dying with his falling Country. Victrix causa dijs placuit, sed Victa Catoni. The POETS indeed have been the bold Persecutors of Vice in all Ages, and have ever rewarded Virtue with Immortality. They are beneficial to Posterity, by conveying to it the most prevailing Motives Illustrious Examples, so that he that is a generous Patron of the MUSES, is a Benefactor to Ages to come, as well as to the Present.  
Carmen amat quisquis, Carmine Digna gerit. is a certain Truth; For the very Motives for performing Virtuous Actions, hold for the care of those that make them eternal, viz. the good of Others, the public Benefit. To which Sir, your whole Life and Endeavours having been zealously applied, I cannot doubt but you will by your patronising Poetry, complete the noble end of your Honourable Ambition. Then may Posterity see in YOU, Sir, such a pattern of Fortitude, Temperance, Wisdom, Justice, Bounty, and all other Virtues that make a Man truly Great, that copying You alone, would make 'em all Happy and Good. I'm too unskilful a Dauber to dare to venture on drawing so noble an Image, as both your private and public Life compose. I can never reach up to that Generous Constancy to your Friend's i●… the midst of your Sufferings, which has to my knowledge raised some to Wealth, if not Content. How can I ever hope to give the least Idea of your present Character, when your Love for the Public Good transports you from private Repose to Business, and the fatigues of State, that more, than those only, whom youknow, may share in the Blessings of your Administration.  
An ungenerous Self-interest, separate from the Public Good, has been observed to prevail over most Statesmen, which made the World put su●…●…st distinction betwixt the S●… and the Patriot, as to mak●… 〈◊〉 ●…cileable; but You, Sir, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 general an Observatio●… 〈◊〉 we all 〈◊〉, that in you the Patriot and Statesman are eminently united. Your Soul is too Large, too Noble, to be wretchedly confined to so narrow a Game, as the Chase of your own priv●…te Happiness, without regard to the public; or rather you are so True an Englishman, that you cannot be Happy, unless your Country be so too; and 'tis not your own private Stores, but the Public that gives you Content; for your Goodness is exalted so near to Perfection, that it cannot but be communicative; we are so sensible of this, that we unanimously wish your Power to do Good, were as boundless, as we know your Will. We might then hope a long wished Union in those Minds, whose Variance with each other has produced a common Misery; and till that be effected, we have alas! but little Hopes of any settled Happiness. But what is worst, there is but small prospect of that, till Men have learned your Virtue, Sir, of sacrificing all private Designs and interests to the public Good.  
But I have unawares fallen into a Con●…emplation of your Virtu●…s, which I dare not pursue; but as the Painter, who after he had given to the several Figures of his Picture, the various forms and expressions of Grief, drew a V●…il over the Father's Face, as unable to express his: So, Sir, ought I, having given a View of some part of your Merits, to leave the rest to the Imagination of the Reader, better informed by your known Reputation. I have said enough to make all Men admire, and love you, that do not know you; and it must be the Defect of my Abilities, if they stop on this side the highest and most Awful Veneration. However I have this Comfort, that I have raised the first Pyramid (tho' a very poor o●… to your desert, to which greater Artists will in time build up more Glorious Monuments, when you shall declare yourself, the Patron of the Poetic Glory of England, as you have been of her Interest. And these Hopes makes me presume to Dedicate not only this small Book to you, but also myself, and all the Endeavours of, Sir,  
Your most Humble, And most Obedient Servant, CHARLES GILDON.   

THE PREFACE.  
THere is no Man, I think, doubts but that 'tis Variety that composes the Regale of the Mind, as well as that of the Body, which has made me have a regard to that in the following Book; for I have intermixed things Historical, Moral, Amorous and Gallant, with the rougher Critical Discourses. Some will gratify the Fancy, others the Judgement, or at least I designed they shou●…d. I shall not say much for that part of the Book which is none of mine, because that need no Defence; and I cannot urge much for the other, if the Reasons it contains be insufficient for its Justification.  
In the hurry of writing I forgot one very good Defence of a Passage in the Othello of Shakespeare, which Mr. Rymer has loudly exclaimed against, and which a very good Friend of mine advised me to insert in the Preface; 'tis this,  
Awake what hoa! Brabantio, etc.  
An old black Ram is tupping your white Ewe, etc.  
Mr. Rymer will have it, that a rap at the Door would better express Jago 's Meaning, than all that noise; but if Mr. Rymer would consult the Reason of the thing he'll find, that the noise Roderigo and Jago made, contributed very much to their design of surprising and alarming Brabantio, by that, to transport him from Consideration to a violent Passion.  
I am sorry, that a Man of Mr. Rymer 's Learning should be so bigoted to the Ancients, as to become an Enemy to the Honour of his own Country in that thing, which is perhaps the only we can truly pretend to excel all others in, viz. Poetry. Courage, Virtue and Wisdom, Greece and ROME will never be outrivalled in, but I am apt to think they have both been outdone in Poetry by the English; and tho' the latter once subdued this Island, yet were she now in all her Glory, with all the Encouragements she gave her Poets, she would confess herself conquered in Poetry.  
For notwithstanding all those Encouragements Poets met with there, and the want of 'em here in England, we have the Honour to have more and better Poets than ever Greece or Rome saw. So that Poetry like a Tree, Transplanted to a foreign Clime, grew not, with all their Care and Cultivation, so kindly, as here without any. Poetry, being therefore our Native Right, I hope the moderate Reader will excuse the Heat I sometimes run into in the Defence of it.  
I hope too the Graver Gentlemen, the Precisians, will not be scandalised at my Zeal for the Promotion of Poetry, because the Reason of it is, that 'tis observable from History, that the Decay and Neglect of that, always was a fatal Symptom of the Loss of Ancient Virtue, Power and Glory.   

A COLLECTION OF Miscellaneous Essays and Letters.  

To JOHN DRYDEN Esq  
May the 1●…th. 16●….  
I Hope, Sir, you'll not measure my Love and Value for you by the Visits I make you, for than you would extremely inj●…e me; for I ●…nnot be so impudent with a Man I h●… an awful Esteem for, as to int●…de too often into his Company, for I'm sensible I can in no measure atone for the loss of that time, my Visits would ●…ob from your better Thoughts; and I rather satisf●… my s●…lf with the expression of my Ze●…l and Love in absence, than, at the expense of my ●…iend, grati●…e my ow●…e of his ●…quent Company. But yet, I confess, this lo●… default of my Duty, can be excused by nothing, but the unavoidable 〈◊〉, about my Concerns in the Country, which has divorced me as long from, Wh●… I value next you, my Books.  
Mistake me not, Sir, I mean not my Scribbling, which I'm far enough from valuing, and only comply with, by the compelling Obligation that taught the Parrot, suum XAIPE. Nay, I have so l●…le of an Author, that I have not Arrogance, and want all Self Esteem, which some even as dull as myself abound with beyond bea●…ing, and which is, indeed, like a Wise, tho' an Evil, yet such a one that is necessary. For a Di●…idence of one'●… 〈◊〉 in Writing, as well as in Addresses to the 〈◊〉 and the G●…at, is seldom any advantage to a Man, at least in this Age, where the highest Impudence Pa●… 〈◊〉 a handsome Assurance, and N●… and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for W●…, and Rep●…: 〈◊〉 dispi●… a Ma●… and a●… he can't please himself with wh●… he Writes, so he very hardly can ●…ise to the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…y that are not duller. But when I was 〈◊〉 to this C●…se of Scribbling, I 〈◊〉 myself with a●… much of a Sto●…, as I could, to 〈◊〉 myself against public Censure; and in my own de●…ence soon believed Reputation but a Whim, since the Worst had their Admirers, as well as the ●…est, at least in our Age; nor could I persuade myself that the next would be one 〈◊〉 better in 〈◊〉 Judgement. And to say truth, there is nothing could make me have any tolerable Opinion of myself, but the Love and Esteem I have for you; whom (〈◊〉 me leave to contradict myself, and show such Arrogance) I do pretend to value, as much as any Man can: and I defy my greatest ●…nemies to do me Justice, and contradict me by any word or discourse even where I had a Moral Certainty, you could never hear of it again.  
This, Sir, I urge, as a Praise of myself; for next to being a good Poet, is to know how to value one; the first has given Immortality, the latter (when in a Man of Quality) gained it. But lest the length of my Letter should do, what I apprehend from my Visits I'll  
Subscribe myself, Your Friend and humble Servant Charles Gildon:   

To his Ingenious Friend Mr. George Isaacson, in de●…ence of Personal Reflections.  
〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 the ●…th 16●….  
YOU tell me you ha●… read 〈◊〉 Book, and are extremely, 〈◊〉 with the 〈◊〉, and sine Sense of it; but that yo●… cannot allow of 〈◊〉 Personal Refl●…ions. I wish you had ●…joyn'd your Reason for your Opinion, because I know you guide yourself extremely by Reason in all things, and also because you know I'm very fond of a Reason to strengthen an Assertion that is brought against one I do esteem, as I do Mr.— But since you have not sent your Reason against him in this particular, I'll give you mine for him.  
Not to justi●…e him by the daily Example of other Authors, which would be tedious, and to little purpose, the very Reason of the thing its self (supposing all the Reflections Just and True) should Vindicate his Practice in that particular. For if Men must not be told their Faults, they'll never mend 'em; and general Reflections will never do the Business, because the Devilish good Opinion every Man has of himself, furnishes him with an Evasion from the lash of g●…neral Characters. Aristophanes' kept many of the Athenians in awe, and within moderate bounds by this means; and so regulated the City better than the Philosophers, with their empty Sophisms, or the Laws, with their blunted Edge. But after the Thirty Tyrant●… had put down this Liberty with their 〈◊〉, the 〈◊〉 was lost in Comedy, and 〈◊〉 could do nothing but Delight. I know 〈◊〉 ●…ays, That this Liberty deserved a Cur●…, but ●…hat was, because it deviated from Truth, and like other of the best Institutions, was perverted by Passion or Interest to serve a turn. S●…tire among the Romans took this course where the Po●…ts durst: and Catullus, that was no Sati●…ist, told 〈◊〉 of his Vic●…, and that publicly in Verse; yet Caesar had that Temperance to Caress him, tho' he had committed his Infamy to as long a Life, as he could do his Noble Acts. But if the Fops, Fools, and Scribblers of our Age, are overrun with Vic●…s more troublesome to the Public, than Caesar's venereal Sallies, without his Moderation, and Modesty, Must they go unmarked? Must the Town be always peste●…'d with their insufferable Impertinences, because, tho' they have been ridiculed in general Characters a Thousand times, will yet by no means believe themselves touched: There is no Remedy for these Public Grievances, but particular Reflections, and tho', as you say, No Man is free from Follies that may be exposed, yet they will be much diminished in them that have any sense, by this means, or at least be made less visible; and then 'tis not much more pains to be Wise, than to play the fool with Secrecy, and one might as well shake hands with Vice for good and all, as to be at the fatigue to Sin with discretion.  
You wonder, you say, That 〈◊〉 had not his Throat 〈◊〉 for the Personal Abuses he gave his Countrymen: But I must tell you, That Vice and Folly then, tho' common enough, had not that lewd tye upon Mankind, as t●…y have now. A Fop or Knave, that was then exposed, had all the Audience against him, and to redeem his reputation, ashamed of his ●…olly o●… Vice reformed. Men came then from a Play full of as many good Resolutions, as a very P●…nitent Sinner ●…om a sensible P●…lpit 〈◊〉 of Death, and Judgement, but now they come away no more affected, than a hardened Usurer from a Sermon of the Revelations. The World's extremely altered since Aristophanes his days. we can't endure to be thought guilty of what we sondle and caress; Nay, now to touch upon a Vice that's grown a Public Grievance, this Fop; or that Whore, that's hit, shall engage a whole Party against you. To expose a Man by a particular, that's incorrigible by all general Characters, reforms him not; but makes him preposterously fonder of Vindicating his Error, than of mending it; and he had rather continue the Public Jest, with the additional Scandal of having committed new Folli●…s in Defence of the Old, than come into the common rank of Mankind, and cease to be singular, and troublesome. Men h●…tofore did with their Folli●…s, and Vices, as some of our Modern Spa●…ks do with their Mistresses, 〈◊〉 them till they come to be known, but then turn 'em off, to avoid the Scandal of a keeping 〈◊〉. But now Men are Wedded to 'em, they take 'em with Danmed for better for worse, till Death doth them part; and think themselves, as much bound to ●…ght a Man for exposing them, as for attacquiny the Honour of their House, tho' in reality they are no more obliged to do so, than a Man is to Vindic●…te the Honour of a Wife not only he himself, but the wh●… Town know to be a Whore, and have contributed to the making her so.  
After all this, you'll ask me, perhaps, if I have not my share of Follies and Vic●…, that I am for falling so soul upon those of my Neighbours? Why, i'faith to deal sincerely with ●…ou, I have abundantly more than my share, which makes me the severer in my Observation of other men's to keep myself in Countenance. But this advantage I have made of it, I have lessened the incredible number, my Mind was overrun with, and shall endeavour to pursue the course ●…ill I've brought 'em, within a more conscionable compass, for I never hope to clear myself entirely.  
I am, Sir, Your Friend and Servant Char. Gildon.   

An Apology for Poetry, in an Essay directed to Walter Moil Esq  
IN an Age when every ignorant 〈◊〉 sets up for a Man of Authority; and as many as can but tell their Syllabl●… on their Fing●…, without 〈◊〉, without Lea●…ning, or any ●…xcuse for Writing, a●…ogate the Glorious Name of Poets, and, by t●…eir Scandalous 〈◊〉 to it, bring the Pride of Conquer●…rs, and the 〈◊〉 of Philos●…phers, into an unj●…st and shame●…ul Neglect; 'Tis the Duty of an humble and zealous Admirer of those God like Few, whom Art, Nature, and Heaven have evidently exalted to that Supreme Dignity, to make an Apology for them, who ought not to ●…nk under the Crimes of this contemptible Race of wretched Poetasters, who ought to be avoided by all that have the least Regard to their own Repose. For this infamous Generation, these Bullies of Parnassus, forsaking the humble, and quiet Call of their own Fortune, with a Sacrilegious ●…mbition, to make a Noise in the World, endervour a Rape on the Sacred Nine: and having as little Modesty as Poetry, continually 〈◊〉 the Favours and Enjoyment of Calliope at l●…h tho' like I●…n they caress nothing but a Cloud, the Harmonious Goddess vanishing from their Profane Embrace. These are Sparks, who, by perpetually repeating them, talk themselves into so good an Opinion of their own Performances, that they can never be brought to think ill enough of themselves to be discouragd from their Poetical Vanity, in which they are confirmed by the ignorant Applause of some, and the Unaccountable Diversion of others, who have a Vanity in 〈◊〉 ●…ng themselves with caressing and indulging their Folly; tho' this is something pardonable, since the Admonition given by an old Poet to one of these Gentleman's Inclinations would be almost fruitless,  

Qu●…d 〈◊〉 Celsus ag●… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…ndus  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 quaerant 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 Palatinus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Apollo   
They are not to be reclaimed, nay, the 〈◊〉 of Thamyras would scarce effect it, the Breaking their ●…ute would not hinder their Writing, nor the loss of their Eyes their Repeating, tho' perhaps Blindness might be some Advantage to their Acquain●…ance, by giving them a possibility of avoiding ●…hem; for a Seeing Poetaster has an Hawk's Eye 〈◊〉 one he intends to recite too, he spies him at a distance, and swoops upon him before he can make his Escape.  
These are the Banes of Society, and have brought an Odium on that admirable Science they pretend to, with some People; who, tho' they have Wit, want Judgement to distinguish betwixt Pretence and Reality. Others, who ought to have regard to the Protection of the Muses, and are sensible of the difference of Merit, and Impudence, are yet too fond of more ungenerous Pleasures, to Sacrifice them to the Care of the Poets. There are a Sort of Men, that love Plea●…e, but are Sordid in their Choice of it; beyond measure preferring those of the Body to those of the Mind. They value not what Expense they 〈◊〉 at in keeping a Whore for the use of half the ●…own, yet are sordidly Penurious in their Grati●…tions of a Poet; a look, a sigh, a senseless word 〈◊〉 the first, can melt 'em into Profuseness, and Poverty, when the Noblest Thoughts, dressed in the most Charming Numbers and Language, shall not move them to consider the Necessity of the Author of them. Nay, tho' they value themselves as Men of Sense as well as Fortune, their Dogs, and their Bottle are more their Care, than the Darlings of Heaven the Poets.  
Maecenas, and Augustus, were the only Keeping Patrons; the Poets were their Mistresses, and never were they so happy, or wantoned so much in Pleasure, as in their Intimacy with Virgil, Horace, Gallus, etc. Their Company was their Regale, tho' Virgil (if we measure the Excellence of it by our Tests, Facetiousness and Buffonery) was none of the best. I'm extremely pleased with Augustus, and could almost Sacrifice to his Memory when I read this charming Expostulation to Horace—— Iratum me tibi scito quod non in plerisque Ejusmodi scriptis mecum potissimum loquaris. An vereris ne apud Posteros tibi infame sit, quod videaris familiaris nobis esse. You see he was ambitious that Posterity by often reading his Name in Horace's Writings, should know how he valued him. Had our Poets this Encouragement, they would surpass the Romans and Greeks too, and England would have her greater Horace and Virgil; ●…or as Marshal says,  
Sint Maecenates n●…n de●…nt Flacce Marones'.  
And,  
Ca●…na prov●…unt animo deducta Sereno.  
But where there must be a care of Subsistence the Mind can never have that Se●…eneness it ought for so Noble and Sacred an Office. What therefore might we not expect, should a 〈◊〉 or Maecenas arise, from such who under all these disadvantages have performed so well? I hope this Apology may remove some prejudices that may oppose that Happiness, and provoke some better Pen to do Poetry more Justice than my Time or Ability would permit.  
If we regard the Antiquity of its Origine the Nobleness of its Subject, or the Beauty of its Aim, or Design (which three Things are the Test of the Excellence of Arts and Sciences, in reference to each other) we shall easily 〈◊〉 Poesy most ancient in its Rise, most honourable in the Subjects and Matters it adorns, and most transcend●…ntly excellent in its Usefulness and 〈◊〉.  
First, To say nothing of other Author's 〈◊〉, Virgil proves from the Second Book of 〈◊〉 Evangel. Prep. that it is of a very early Date; and from hence 'tis also evident, That it flourished among the most ancient of the Hebrews, who were by several Ages of greater Antiquity, than the Grecian Poets. For Moses, their Leader, having passed the Red Sea, inspired by a Divine Fury, sung Praise and Thanks to his Omnipotent ●…liverer in Hexameter Verse, according to ●…phus in the Second Book of his Antiquity of the Jews. Thus the Royal David too, composed Hymns to God, in various Numbers, as ●…phus in the Seventh Book of the Antiquities of the Jews, in these words confirms. David therefore (says he) after he was delivered from War and Danger, in the Enjoyment of full Tranquillity, and Peace, composed Songs and Hymns to God in various and different Numbers, as Trimeters, Quinquimeters: with whom St. Jerome in his Preface to the Chronicles of Euseb●…s agrees, where he writes in this manner. Lastly, (says he) What is more sonorous than the Book of Psalms? Which like the Works of our Horace, or the Greek Pindar, now runs on jambick Feet, now sounds with Alcaic's, now swells with the Saphic Numbers, etc.  
But to come to the Gentiles, we find Poetry so very Ancient that they know not its Rise, but attribute it to their God Apollo, and the Muses; a●… Apollo, in Ovid, himself assures us.  
Juppiter est genitor: p●…r me quod eritque fuitque  
Estque patet, per me concordant Carmina ●…rvis.  
Apollo received the Harp from Mercury, and the●… was made Precedent of the Muses. By which attributing the Original of Poetry to the Gods, 'tis evident that the Gentiles themselves looked upon it as a Sacred and venerable Thing, above Humane Invention. From this Spring it descended as it were by Succession to Linus, (the Son of Apollo and Urania.) And Orpheus, (the Son of Apollo and Calliope) and Thamyras; These two last with Hercules, were the Scholars to Linus. We need not instance Arion, Amphion, and Musaeus, who are Poets of a very ancient Date. Their uncommon Praises, are celebrated in so extraordinary a manner, that there can nothing be added to their Eternal Glory, their Encomiums, indeed, transcending all Belief and Understanding: so much did succeeding Ages think was due to the first Fathers of Poetry, as to make their Performances more, than Mortal.  
The Divine Orpheus, the Wonder of Better Na●…ure, with the Music of his Lyre and Song, drew Trees, Stones, and Beasts to be his listening Audience, which is not so impossible, since Campa●…ella proves that all things have Sense. But the charming of Rocks, Stones and Trees, the taming Wild Beasts, and the stopping the course of ra●…id Torrents, were the least of his Performances, Hell lost its Terror, and put on a more agree●…ble Face, the tortured Ghosts forgot their past 〈◊〉 in the Heaven of their present Ease, and ●…he very Furies, grew Mild and Calm at the sound of his Melodious Verse, and Lyre; all which is ●…dmirably described by Ovid, in his Metamorphosis. These Powers did Antiquity give to Orpheus, of ●…he Sweetness of whose Poesy, 'twould be super●…uous to produce the Testimony of the most an●…ient Authors. Arion and Amphion want not their Miracles, of the Dolphin and the Walls of Thebes. Of the latter, Horace, Art. Poetic.  

Dictus & Amphion Thebanae condior Areis  
Saxa movere sono Testudinis, & prece bland●…  
Ducere quo vellet.—   
Tho' there be nothing more vulgar, and com●…on, than these Fables of the Ancient Poets, and Musicians; yet do they evidently demonstrate, that even from those Primitive Times, down to our Iron Age, these extraordinary Praises and Encomiums were only bestowed on this divine Power of Poetry; that Poets alone seemed worthy by this most Sacred Art to have the next place to the Gods themselves. So that this Universal Applause (if there were no other Motive) ought to recommend it to our Admiration and Esteem.  
But 'tis agreed by the universal, and unanimous consent of almost all Nations, and Authors, that Poetry not only contains all other Arts and Sciences, but has this Prerogative peculiar to itself That no Rules, no Masters with the best Instructions, can teach it; unless those who apply themselves to this divine Science, are destined to the Sacred Function, by Nature, and a Genius. Whence arose that Maxim, allowed of by all Men o●… Sense, Poeta Nascitur non Fit. That a Poet is Born not Made. And from hence it follows in my Opinion, That a Poet derives the honour of that Name from his Nature and Genius, not from his Art 〈◊〉 This every Scholar has, That none but the Darling o●… Heaven and Nature. This may be acquired by a Studious Pedant, That must be born, and grow up with the auspicious Babe, for Poeta nascitur non fit.  
I'm much mistaken if Polidore Virgil, do no●… comment on this Axiom in his first Book De Re●… Inventor. Cap. 8. where he says, 'Tis certain tha●… Poetry for many Reasons excels the other Art's an●… Sciences, either because no other Art is to be acquir'●… but by a long Application to it, or because, as Strab●… in the beginning of his Geography, against Eratosthenes, eloquently demonstrates, it contains all others; because of all the Arts that Humane Wit has produced Poetry alone, it taught by a Divine Inspiration, etc.  
Cicero in his Oration for Archias the Poet, has jest us the Praise of Poets (of which Name himself had been extremely Ambitious) in these words, Atqui sic (says he) à summis hominibus, ●…ruditissimisque accepimus, caeterarum rerum studia, & Doctrinâ, & Praeceptis, & Arte constare; Poetam Natur●…●…psâ valere, & mentis viribus excitari, & quasi divino quodam spiritu afflari; quare suo Jure noster ●…nnius Sanctos appellat Poetas, quod quasi deorum aliquo dono, & Munere commendati nobis esse videantur.  
You see, Sir, that Cicero confesses that divine Fire in Poets which himself desired in vain, and ●…hat Poets seem to be recommended by the Gift, and Benefit of the Gods, to our reception. ●…f he that felt not this Sacred Fury was sensible of this, we may credit Ovid, who by his own Experience says, De Fastis, lib. 6.  

Facta Canam, sed erunt, qui me finxisse loquentur.  
Nullaque Mortali numina visa putent.  
Est Deus in Nobis, agitante Calescimus illo,  
Impetus hic sacrae semina mentis habet.   
And Socrates in Plato affirms this Poetical Fury ●…o be divinely inspired. Plato in his Second Book ●…f the Commonwealth, calls Poets the Sons of ●…he Gods, and in Lysis terms them, the Parents and Guides of Wisdom; and elsewhere he ca●… Homer the Father of all Wisdom and Philosophy in these Words: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Home●… was the Guide and Master of the Tragical Beautie●… and Virtues. And Petronius Arbiter tells us, tha●… the Mind can neither conceive, or bring forth i●… Poetical Births, unless it be impregnated wit●… great and boundless stores of Learning; and fo●… this reason he says in his Satyricon, that Eumolp●… spoke oftener divinely, that is, Poetically, tha●… like a Man.  
Those who endeavour to draw the Origin●… of Poetry from Singing, are not in my Opinio●… much mistaken. For when the Ancients endeavoured to declare the Affections or Passions of th●… Mind in Song by the Sound, and peculiar Variation of the Voice, as it were in a more Polite an●… Elaborate Speech; this rude and unpolished Soun●… by degrees refined into an Art. Which, when 〈◊〉 became (wherever it was) so improved, th●… with it the Praises of the Gods or Heroes, w●… celebrated into certain Verses or Rhimes, ga●… Birth to Poetry; which indeed seems truly, & real●… to be derived from Singing, since with the Learned even now, a Poet is not said, to Speak, b●… Sing. The ancient Germans, a Warlike Peopl●… had no other History of the Acts of the Kin●… and Leaders, but certain Songs or Verses, b●… which they either extolled their Warlike Exploi●… or roused the Minds of the Soldiers to fight, as 〈◊〉 find in Polyaenus, Solon, annimated the Athenians, to Battle. And the Lacedæmonians Sacrificed to the Muses before they began a Fight; that we read that the noble Hero, Mathias, King of Hungary, used to be so touched with the Acts of the ancient Heroes, as he sung 'em to his Lute, that the force with which it affected his Mind, was apparent in his Body; imitating Achilles, who sung the Praises of great Commanders to his Harp.  
Another Proof of the Antiquity of Poesy, are the Sibyls, the Oracles of the Pythian Apollo, many of which are in Herodotus; Inscriptions, Monuments of Victories, Pillars, and Obelisc's, all which afford cause to believe Verse to have a very early Original. With these the Writings of the greatest and most ancient Authors strew their Works by their Authorities and Sentences, to render them the more palatable and efficacious. Nay, St. Paul is said to have convinced the Athenians of the madness of their Idolatry, by part only of a Verse of the Poet Aratus, and to have used that Verse of Menander to the Christian Corinthians.  
Evil Discourses corrupt good Manners.  
Thus much for the Divine, and very ancient Origin of Poesy, and now we are come to the Subject of it, according to our former Division.  
Tho' other Arts and Sciences afford abundant matter, and a large Field for our Thoughts and Consideration; yet none can stand in competition with Poesy; for what is there in all the wondrous Variety, and vast extent of Nature that falls not under the consideration of a Poet? All the Wonders, Mercies, and Favours of the highest God, can in nothing be more gloriously expressed than in Verse: Who can describe the Beauty of his Providence, the Bounty of his Gifts, the Sacredness of his Mysteries, with such Charms, such Force, such Excellence, as the Poet in his Melodious Numbers, Majestic Language, and Divine Thoughts. Hence it was that the Royal Psalmist David, chose to appease the Anger of an offended God, with the soothing Sacrifice of this Penitential Verses. To this we add the Hymns of the ancient Hebrews, of the old Church, and of the Poetical and holy Fathers of the New; who to make their Ejaculations and Jubilees of Seraphic Love, reach late Posterity, put them into Verse, as the most agreeable, and Kindred Repository of things so Sacred. Hence also (if with these Books we may mingle the Profane) flowed all those Hymns, Odes, Secular Poems, and Io Paeans to Jove, Mercury, Apollo, and the rest of the Imaginary Gods of Heathens. So Sacred has Poetry been esteemed in all Ages, so Charming, and so Comprehensive, that they always judged whatever was designed for the Praises of Gods, Kings and Heroes, or for the common and universal Use, Profit and Pleasure of all Men, aught to be delivered in numbers, in Verse, as destined to all that was Sublime and Great. To this we own the Geneology, and noble Deeds of the Kings and Commanders in Homer, the common Father of all Poets, and in Virgil his Competitor of Glory; these being wrote in noble Verse, fill our Minds with fresh and wonderful pleasure, ev'ry time we peruse them.  
To proceed to the several Institutes of our Life, particularly the spurs to Virtues, and flight from Vice, the purgation of the manners, etc. The Funeral Griefs, and Lamentations on the Dead, and finally all those particulars that the Accidents of humane Life produce, desirable or pleasant, all which are, and have been the subjects of Poems: Whence the ancient Greek Authors reduced all things divine and humane, to five Heads.  
The first they termed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, under which they seem compendiously to have placed all that was referred to the Praises of the Gods, the Rights of Religion, and the Victories of the Heroes, and the Celebration of noble Acts. The second 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in which the Virtues of great and extraordinary Men, were praised, as Elogium and Panegyrics. The third 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the use of which was to express the Virtues that tended to the purging and probity of the Manners. The forth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which performed the Funeral Sorrow●… and ●…amentations. The fifth they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, under which was contained all that could be conducive to the Delight and Pleasures of Mankind.  
Poetry having been always generously employed none can call in question the Nobility and Excellence of its Subject and Matter. Tho' some perhaps may object, that Philosophy, Law, and History, etc. treat of other things of a higher Nature, whilst they discover things from their Causes, or by Arguments, prove to others those that are already discovered: But they are but very raw Novices in the Academy of Poetry, who are ignorant that the Elements or first Foundation of most, if not all Arts, as well as their progress, are derived from Poetry, and the best Authors of all times have granted the Poets the first Philosophers.  
For from this Treasure, or Ocean of Arts and Sciences, are all the Rivulets of Learning sprung, and have lifted up their Heads; nay, they have abundantly drawn whatever they contain of Pleasure or Artifice, from Poetry, as from the vast and Mother Rceptacle of all the Mellifluous Waters of Eloquence. To this we may add, what Strabo says, viz. Poeticem Antiqui vocant Primariam quandam Philosophiam, quae nos a pueris ad vitam institu●…i, & cum Voluptat●… doceat, cujusmodi Mores & affectus, & Actiones nostras esse conveniat. Quin nostri h●…mines Poetam vel solum sapientem esse per●…ribuerunt; ob eamque rem civitates Greciae pu●…ros primum omnium Poeticis erudiunt: non utique merae obiectationis gratiâ, sed ut prudentiae modestiaeque praeceptis imbuantur i. e. The Ancients termed Poesy a more excellent kind of Philosophy, which should from our Childhood inform our Lives, and teach us with Pleasure, what our Manners, our Passions, and our Actions ought to be. Nay, our Countrymen would scarce admit any into the Number of Wise Men, but Poets; and for this Reason, the Cities of Greece ground Boys first of all in Poetry: not merely for their Delight, but that they may be instructed in the Precepts of Modesty, and Prudence, or Wisdom.  
And justly too did the Ancients term Poetry, a more excellent Philosophy; for if the Excellence of a thing depend on its more or less aptness to obtain the End 'tis designed for, this Prerogative is justly given to Poetry: The End of Philosophy is to form in the Mind Ideas, and habits of Virtue, and they are fixed there better by Pleasure than Pain, because the Mind is naturally averse to Pain, and propense to Pleasure. But the stiff, and difficult Method of those who are Simply Philosophers, perplexes us too much with Metaphysical Notions, Logical Distinctions, and a long train of Arguments, which gives the Mind a fatigue to gain the Knowledge it aims at; whereas the Poetic Philosopher proposes a fairer, more adequate, compendious and comprehensive Instruction, which the Mind is so far from labouring to Unriddle, and Understand, that it at fi●…st sight perceives it, is in Love with its Beauty, and greedily takes the charming Impressions it gives, whilst conveyed into it by Melodious Numbers, betwitching Expression, Mighty Thoughts, and Illustrious Examples. That Great Poet and Critic Horace declares how sit he thinks Poetry for the Instruction of Youth in the First Epistle of the Second Book.  

Os tenerum pueri balbumque Poet a figurat;  
Torque: ab obscaenis jam nunc sermonibus aurem:  
Mox etiam P●…ctus praeceptis format amicis  
Asperitatis, & Invidiae, corrector & Irae, etc.   
The other admirable Verses that follow these, you are, Sir, extremely well acquainted with, which so beautifully set off the several Advantages of Poetry. And Hieronimus Vida (one of the best Italian Poets that have writ in I atin as Rapine assures us) in the First Book of his Poetics is of the same Mind—  

Postquam igitur primas sundi puer bauserit arts  
Jam nunc incipiat rig●…s acced●…re fontes  
Et Phaebum, & Dulces Musas ass●…escat Amarc.   
Add to this what Horace says in his the Art Poetica  
— Fuit h●…c Sapientia quondam  
Publica privatis secernere, sacra Prophanis, etc.  
and the Ten following Verse which I have not room here to quote. Erasmus, that wanted n●… Wit, calls i●… a Banquet composed of all the Delicacies, and Q●…intessence of all other Arts, and Sciences. And Melan●…hon places the Excellence of Poetry for the penetration into men's Minds, next to the Sacred Scriptures, especially Tragedy.  
P●…ets being, as you see, the Darling Sons of the Gods, born to gr●…t and sublime things, and the Corrector' and Guides of Common Life, they have not, without Reason, been esteemed by the greatest Monarches and Potentates of the World, and made Instructors and Tutors to Kings, and Princes: I speak of true Poets, not of of the little Mushrooms of Parnassus, the Street-repeating Poetasters. Thus Linus was the Tutor to Hercules, the tamer of Monsters, and Tyrants: And Alexander the Great, with veneration, respected Homer, as the Guide, and Director of his ●…ife, reading his Works daily, in the heat and hurry of the Conquest of the World, and slept with them under his Pillow. Ennius' instructed that great General Scipio African●…s in Poetry, which he judged so advantageous to him, that he took him with him in his most weighty Expeditions, and chose to be Buried in the same Tomb with the Poet. Nothing has to me given a greater instance of Caesar's value for Poets, than the Welcome he gave Catullus to his Table, the same day he had fixed such a Brand of Infamy upon him as remains in Catullus his Works to this day. Augustus, both the Patron, and Judge of the Muses, Caressed that Noble Pair of Poets, Horace and Virgil●… ●…s his most intimate and bosom Friends, honoured them as his Masters, and showered his Beneficent Favours on them, who, without doubt in return, introduced him to the Sacred Penetralia of the Muses, the divine Retreats of Apollo: which made this Emperor keep the Birthday of Virgil every Year, as if 'twere the auspicious Feast of his own Success. The Emperor Julian made the Creek Lyric Poet Ba●…bylides his Master, or Director; and Gratian after he had made a great progress in the most generous of Learning, he honour●…d and advanced his Master Ausonius even to the Consulship. And Arcadius and Honorius erected a Monument to the Memory of Claudian, in the forum of Trajan.  
●…t nothing, in my opinion, challenges the E●…eem of the World more for this Art, than that i●… 〈◊〉 thus the Barbarity, and Sordidness that so generally rules Mankind, and destroys, that Happiness we falsely aim at by other means,  
Emollit Mores (as Ovid has it) nec sinit esseferos.  
A Man may be a Divine, and yet be Covetous, and Deceitful, two Banes of Piety, Religion, and Morality; but a Poet cannot be guilty either of Avarice or Deceit, I mean a True Poet, a Virgil, a Horace, A Dryden, a Waller. And,  
— Si carmina ●…ndes  
Nunquam te fallant animi sub vulpe latentes.  
Hor. Art. Poet.  
And,  

— Vatis avarus, (num:  
Non●… m●…re est animus: Versus amat hoc siudet u-  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Incendia ridet:  
N●…n fr●…dom So●…o, Pue●…e 〈◊〉 ullam  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, & 〈◊〉 s●…undo  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 piger & Malu●…, u●…lis Urbi.   
There is no need of prosecuting the point of Esteem the Poets have been in, in the better Ages of the World, I will not therefore insist on the Seven Cities of Greece, that strove for the Glory of Giving Birth to Homer, nor on Alexander, who, when he took, sacked, and burned Thebes, spared the House of Pindor, and sixth this Verse over the Door.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Burn not Pindar's House,  
the same respect was showed his House by the Lacedæmonians when they destroyed Thebes. I'll say nothing of the honour paid to the Memory of Schesitorus, in the Octogonal Monument at the Gates of Catana in Sicily. 'Twou'd be superfluous to take notice of the Value Polycrates had for Anacr●…n, Archelaus for Euripides, the King of Egypt and Maced●…n for Menander, Ptolo●…aeus Philadelphus for Callimachus; and what I have said before of the Latins may suffice. But 'tis no wonder that the Politer Nations should have this Esteem for the Divinest of Arts, since the very Danes, looked upo●…●…f Old as more Barbarous, have yet discover●…●…ll along such a veneration for Poets, and Poesy, that on the Death of one of their Kings, they exalted a Poet to the Throne, as the most worthy to succeed the Prince, he could Praise so well; as Saxon Grammaticus, and Joan. Bocerus ●…estifie.  
Without doubt by this time 'tis sufficiently evident. That if any Art merits Esteem, either for the Antiquity of its Origine, or the Nobility of its Subject, Poetry must be granted the Prerogative of Precedence in Honor. Wherefore I shall say no more for a Proof of these two points of its Original and Subject, but now turn our Consideration to the third Branch of my Division, viz. The End and Profit, or advantage of Poetry.  
The Philosophers lay down two principal kinds of Studies, which are indeed different, but not opposite; that is, the Contemplative and the Practical, and they give the preference to the former, because Contemplation is pleasant for and in its self, and therefore more Noble; but the Practical quatenus practical is so only in regard of something else, and therefore less Noble than Contemplation. But 'tis sufficiently evident, that the Study of Poetry is for the most part Contemplative: Since no Poet is capable of forming any Noble Poem, with elaborateness and perfection, unless he first dispose his Speculations, and before consider, and weigh the Materials, and the peculiar Artifice that must be used in setting them off to their best advantage, and in the true Ligh●…●…nd Colours. And one thing is here to be ob●…d, That a Poet through his whole performance, both whiled he contrives, invents, and puts his Thoughts in Metre, is still at the same time contemplating, so that he's composed of Speculation and Action, whereas other Studies either only contemplate, or only precisely put in Execution the destined Actions. First therefore, in that way Poetry is Useful in its self, and therefore admitting the former Axiom of the Philosophers, to be valued and pursued, because Speculative. And Secondly, 'Tis Useful in regard of something else, because the Poetical Writings chief contain, the most beautiful, and inviting Doctrines, and Instructions, the best of Precepts for the happy and laudable directing of our Lives; Noble Say, and Deeds, Virtues, Rights and Manners of Nations. From all which, that may be chosen for the common benefit of Mankind, that is most justly imitable, and worthy in Virtue, that avoided, that is most abominable and detested in Vice.  
Contemplation and Thinking is peculiarly the Poet's Business, on this Depends all the Beauties of Thought, and Expression. By using much to Think, they come to a justness and trueness of Thought, they run not away by halves, with imperfect Appearances that please the Imagination; they are not taken with all that glisters, but by much Thinking dive into the Nature of Things, and fix the Judgement to decide the Truth, or falsity of what is Charming, and Be●…tiful, and what seems so, at a sudden view. H●…e proceed Justness, Proportion and Uarmony, without all which a Poet loses half his Glory, and Reputation with good Judges. From hence 'tis evident, That the End of Poetry is Noble, since it reaches the greatest Pleasure and the surest Profit, of our Minds, and of our Life. Since 'tis directed to the Praise, of the Omnipotent, the Celebration of Virtues, the Rewards and Glory of Noble Acts, the Punishment and Infamy of Evil: Since to it we own all the increases of our Knowledge; and finally, since it effects all these nobler l●…nd, it aims at.  
But methinks, Sir, I hear you say, What needs all this to prove the Excellence of a Science, that carries a Natural Worth with it, and that so clearly, that like an innate Principle 'tis confessed by all self-evident? for there is none, however dull, but does, or has attempted Poetry, with more or less success, whilst other Artts, and Sciences are not so universally caressed. All pretend not to Philosophy, Mathematics, Law, Physic, or desire to be thought Proficients in those Arts; but every one would be thought a Poet, as if without being so, he could not be thought a Man, so essential to Mankind does the universal and unanimous Ambition and Aim at it of every Man make it. I grant you, Sir, this is a sufficient Argument to any sensible Man, that considers it. But how few reflect on this, when they run down what they could not obtain on their Endeavour; the greatest Railer against this divine Art, would be proud to Father an excellent Poem. ●…d it must be granted by them, That the greate●…●…hilosophers. Historians, Orators, Physicians, Divines, Princes, Kings and Emperors of all Ages have discovered this Desire we mention, and have made it evident, That they either were, or fain would be Poets.  
To pass over the Hebrews we have already mentioned among the Roman Emperors, how few but have discovered this Ambition? Julius Caesar, Augustus, Nero, Adrian, Gratian, Theodosius, Honorius, etc. Those of Julius Caesar.  
Feltria perpetuo nivium da●…ata rigore  
Forte mihi posthâc non adeunda vale.  
Augustus often exercised this Faculty, particularly on Virgil's desire that his Aeneids might be burnt; which begin thus:  

Ergone supremis poluit vox improba ●…rbis  
Tam-dirum mandare Nefas? Ergo ibit in ignes  
Magnaque doctilequi morietur Musa Maronis? etc.   
Seneca gives us this Verse of N●…o's composing with his Commendatory Introduction, 1. D●… Natur. Quaest Cap. 5. Quid ●…rgo sit? Colorem non Ima●…inem ducunt; alioquin ut ait Nero Caesar diser●…ssime.  
Colla Cytheriacae Splendent agitata Columbae.  
More of his we might borrow from Persius, if we 〈◊〉 ●…his Interpreters. Adrian returns the Poet Flor●…s his Compliment sent him in these Verses,  

Ego n●…lo Flor●…s Esse  
Amlulare per Tabernas  
Latitare per popinas  
Culices pati rotundas.   
Nay, he was so very Poetical, that when he wa●… a dying, he Versifyed on his Soul,  

Anima vagula blandula  
H●…spes comesque 〈◊〉  
Quae nunc abibis in loca  
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,  
Nec ut soles, dabis jocos?   
Those that are attributed to Gallienus, have more of a Poet, which he repeated at the Wedding of his Nephews, as Trebell●…s Pollio has it; holding them by the Hands;  

Ite ait, o pueri, pariter sudate Medullis  
Omnibus inter v●…s; non 〈◊〉 v●…stra columbae  
Brachta non bederae, non vincant Oscula conchae.   
And to say truth, 'tis pity Gallienus ever spoiled an Emperor since he would have made an excellent Poet; for as Tr●…bellius confessest, fuit enim Gallienus, quod negari non potest, oratione, Poemate, atque Omnibus artibus Clarus. For Gallienus was, says he, ●…inent in Oratory; Po●…try, and all other Arts. And indeed his horrid Remissions proceeded from his being consent with whateve●… fortune would let him have; he wanted Ambition, and was, as Horace describes a Poet M●…litiae piger & malus. Jul●…n's Epigrams are to be found in the Anthology; and Ausonius informs us, that Theod●…sius was no small pretender to Poetry in these Verses.  

Bellandi fandique potens Augustus, honorem  
Bis meret, ut geminet titulas: qui praelia Musis  
Temperate, & Get●…m M●…deratur Apolline Martem.  
Arma inter C●…brosque truces, furt●…que nocentes  
Sauromatas, quantum cessat de tempore belli  
Indulget lat●…s tantum inter castra Camaenis, etc.   
In short, tho' the Spirit of Poetry decayed among the Romans, with their Empire, yet was there scarce one that did not make some pretences to the Muses. Nay, look among the Clergy of former Ages, and you shall find Popes, Bishops, Cardinals, etc. stand candidates for the Bays, as well as Socrates, Plato, Democritus, Lycurgus, Solon, Aristotle, among the Philosophers and Legislators; among the undignified Divines, Melanchton B●…za, ●…facomatus Art●…medes, etc. the Civilians, Ulp●…n, Modestinus, Alciatus, Budaeus, Tur●…bus, and a great many others, too numerous to be here inserted among the Physicians, Ansonius, Fracastorius, Cordus, L●…bius Secundus, Sinetius, P●…sthius, Sambu●…us, etc. Nay, even among the Critics, a morose Generation, the Scaliger's Father and Son, the Dousa's Father and Son, Cam●…ranus, Mycillus, Stigelius, etc. among the Historians, Buchanan, Nat●… Comes, Lil. Gyraldus, Ra●…pius, Meibonius, Baudius, etc. Among the Rheto●…itians, Pontanus, Angel. Polit●…us, etc.  
Thus much for Exotics; but (Sir) should I pretend to number the Poets, and Pretenders to Poetry in our own Nation, as 'twould be superfluous, so 'twould be endless. Search all Ranks and Degrees of Men, from the Beau Lord, to the homely Swain, a keeping his Sheep, or driving his Hogs; and as Cupid, so has Apollo been at work with 'em; the S●…lvia's and M●…ia's, the Jones and Sue have had their respective Tribute of Rhyme, and from the grave Doctor of Divinity, to the little Country Curate, with his Problematic Crambo's, and Hypothetic Propositions So that there can be no more doubt made of the former Assertion of all Men's Desires and Pretensions to it, than that those are a Proof of its received Excellence.  
Before I conclude this Essay, I shall obviate two or three Objections, made by some old morose Sparks, that have outlived that little Sense their more sprightly years afforded them, and some Precisians, that build Piety and Godliness in Spiritual Rail, and a mortified Phiz, which are but Feints, or Blinds to Observers.  
The first is, that 'tis a very useless and unprofitable Study, no Estates to be got by it, at least in this Age: That it contributes merely to Pleasure, not to our knowledge. To the first I answer, that 'tis very true, that there is no hopes of rising to be an Alderman by Poetry; but then I must tell them, 'tis not for those to apply themselves t●… that place the Desires of their Souls on Money; for a●… they'll never obtain that end by it, so will they never reach any Excellence in the Art, as being not destined by nature to it; for to a Poet, Heaven gives a large and noble Soul, above the Narrow aim of Bags and Hordes of Treasure; and thus far I shall grant it an unprofitable Study, as Petronius Arbiter has witnessed long ago:  

Qui Pelago 〈◊〉, magno se saenore t●…llit  
Qui Pugnas, & Castra petit, prae●…ngitur Auro,  
Vilis Adulat●…r picto jacet ●…brius Ostr●…,  
Et qui s●…llicitat 〈◊〉 ad Praem●… peccat:  
Sola Pruinosis b●…rrel Facundia Pannis  
Atque 〈◊〉 lingu●… desert invocat Artes.   
No, there are the roating Billows, The Camp, the Court, and the City allotted by Fate for those that thirst for Wealth; the Muse's love Tranquillity, an Easy and Contented State, and teach their Darlings, that  
Nec vixit male qui Natus mori ensque fefellit.  
The Riches the Poet gains is Fame: It terminates not with this life like Money, and Estate, nor can his Spendthrift Son lavish the mighty Store he has laid up, as the Miser's Son does what his Father got from Fools or Knaves. Nay, the Usefulness of this Study is opposite to getting Estates as they are generally got: It punishes Avarice, rewards Generosity, softens the Mind from Barbarity to Compassion for the Miseries of others, cleanses it from Deceit and Hypocrisy, elevates it from little base Designs, to Noble and Open Actions, and so through all the Ends and Uses of this Divine Art.  
As to the Second that it contributes merely to our Pleasure, not Knowledge, that is evidently false, both from what has been said, and from a Consideration that it yields not only a Necessary, but Noble Knowledge, that is, of Men, of Manners, of Virtue, etc. Nor is there any Study or Art but has been attempted in Poetry, as a short view will ma●… eviden●…. To pass over David and the Hebrews Poets, whose Excellencies are lost by the general Ignorance, not only of the Language they wrote in, but the Custom, etc. on which many of the Beauties depend. Orpheus, Horner, Pindar, Horace, etc. have celebrated the Praises of the Divine Power, tho' under the Names of their Supposititious Gods, and Goddesses. Among the Christians, we ●…ind Prudentius, Juven●…us, Arator, Vidas, Mauri●…us, Sa●…azarius, Vul●…eius, and an in●…able Company of Sa●…red Writers. Astrology, Astronomy, etc. has been treated of by ●…ius, Aratus, Palingenius, Manillius, Buchanan, etc. Physic's by H●…siod, Ma●…er, Lucretius, 〈◊〉, and others. Husbandry by Hesiod, Virgil, etc. Pastoral 〈◊〉 and Spor●…s, The●…critus, 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉, Dantes, etc. Hunting has been dis●…urs'd of by Gratius Nemesianus, Natales Co●…, etc. Tragedy (which affords us a hundred ●…able ●…essons of Knowledge, and Improvement) we own chief to Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Eurip●…s 〈◊〉 I think our English Tragedians, have ex●…ell'd them, particularly Mr. Dryden, who in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 ●…ll always think, has 〈◊〉 ou●… done Soph●…les Then for the Acts of Heroes, we have Homer, Virgil, Pin●… Lucan, S●…atius, Cow, Sir William D'Avenant 〈◊〉 this is a sort of Poem which Horace think, more Instructive than Philosophy, in his second Epistle of his first Book to Lollius.  

Trojani belli scrip●…orem maxim Lolli,  
Dum tu d●…clamas Romae, Praen●…ste relegi (quidnon,  
Quiquid sit 〈◊〉, quid Turpe, quid Utile,  
Ple●…us ac melius Chrysipp●… & Crantore di●…s.   
Nor are the Amorous Essays of Ana●…, Sapph, Gallus, Catullus, Ovid, H●…race, Tibullus, Pr●…pertius, with abundance of the Moderns, to be thought ill of by the Precisians, as we shall by and by prove, but granted Improvers o●… our Knowledge in the Nature of the passions, the fatigues, and pleasures of ●…ove, as well as the Dangers and Impertin●…ces of Intrigue. Opp●… wrote o●… 〈◊〉, Nicander of Antidotes against the ●…iting of Venomous Beasts, of Herbs, and Ga●…dening. Ma●…r and Palladius, of Plants. Mr. Cow, of Medicine, S●…renus, 〈◊〉, and M●…llus: Of Weights, and Measures, Q 〈◊〉 Fa●…us 〈◊〉; which Book by some is attributed to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and Pythagoras, 〈◊〉 in Verse of the Precepts of Virtue, and Solon, and 〈◊〉, of Poli●…s or the Administration o●… the Common Wealth: Wholesome, and Inst●…uctive satire, H●…race, Juvenal, Persius, Mr. Dryden, Mr. W●…herly in his Plain●…●…ler, and other Poets have given us; nor are the little 〈◊〉 to be ●…orgot, having their Use and Diversion, tho', I confess myself no Admirer of that sort of Poetry, if it merit that Name.  
From hence 'tis Evident, That we may not only learn all that can be advantageous to our Knowledge, and by consequence that the accusation is false, that it serves only to Pleasure; but also that All things that are the Subjects of this Sovereign of Sciences.  
There remains yet an Objection, some Men make no final bustle about, viz. That Poetry is too profane in making use of so many false Gods, and Goddesses, Fanus, Satyrs, and Nymphs, and the rest of the gay Race of Fancy; and that they scatter the Seeds of Debauchery in the Minds of Youth, by their Amorous Verses, their Lustful Songs, etc. for which Reason even Plato Banished them from his Commonwealth.  
The first part of this Objection, I'm confident, you'll think extremely ridiculous, and that it merits not to be taken Notice of. But when you shall remember that in the Third Century the Christians were so Zealous, as to forbid the reading of all Heathen 〈◊〉, particularly Poets, on th●… A●…count, and consider, that we have some still 〈◊〉 the same Mind here in England, that would not have the Name of Jupiter, Mars, and Venus (no, not in Pr●…pria quae Maribus) come into their children's Mouths, especially their Worships, their ●…overs etc. I hope you will allow that 'tis not wholly unnecessary to clear even this Objection.  
'Tis true, these Fables cannot be condemned by any, but by those who are incapable to dive into the admittable use of 'em. They must consider, that every Art, as well as every Language. has its peculiar Beauties and Prop●…ieties of Elocution, to take which away (especially if, as Poets particularly do, we represent Antiquity) is to render it almost insipid, and without its most taking quality Pleasure, that best conveys Instruction. Rob Poetry of this Be●…uty of the Fables and the God's 〈◊〉 mean the ancient Poems, so full of admirable Instruction by their means given us with Pleasure, and Delight) and you destroy the Excellence of the best of Poets, rend●…ing their Poems Imperfect, and ●…ame; and if any Christian Poets makes use of these Gods, there is no fear certainly of their paying them any Vene●…ation, when they only employ them as the Vehicles of their Designs. But enough on this Point.  
The other of the Looseness of Amorous Verses; 'tis a part of the Knowledge of the World, to have a perfect view of all the Effects of Love, all its Ways, Manners, and Expressions, and those who forbidden the Reading of these, take away an admirable Guide to those that must Live where not to be in Love, or have to do with those that are so, is impossible, and Scandalous even in the P●…ence. There are other advantages of the ●…wdest Essays of this Nature, which a Man of Sense will make of them, and none, indeed, should read those ●…ut such. And that Plato banished Poets out of 〈◊〉 Commonwealth, yet could he write things of a more lewd Strain than the Worst of 'em, witness these Verses on the Kissing of Agatho, done from his Greek by Decimus Laberius.  

Dum Semibulco savio  
Meum Puellum Saviour  
Duleemque storem Spiritûs  
Duco ex aperto Tramite:  
Anima tunc aegra & Sauci●…  
Cueurrit ad Labia mihi,  
Rictumque in or is pervium  
Et labra pueri Mollia  
Rim●…a ●…neri transitus  
Ut transiliret nititur.  
Tum si, morae quid plusculae  
F●…sset in Co●…u Oscula  
Amoris igni percita  
Transisset, & me linqueret.  
Et ●…ra prorsum res foret,  
Ut ad me fierem Mortuus  
Ad pu●…rum ut intus Viverem.   
Petronius himself has scarce gone beyond this with his Gyt●…n, etc. And his  

Qualis nox fuit illa dii deaeque  
Quam Mollis tor●…us! haes●…mus calentes  
Et trans●…udimus hinc, & hinc labellis  
Errantes animas. Valete curae!  
Mortalis ego sic perire 〈◊〉.   
Plato's Republic was but a Utopia at best, and aimed at new ways of forming the Minds of Men by Laws, not so agreeable perhaps to Man's Nature, as more Politic Legislators have composed, who received this Noble Art, and honoured its Professors with Public Veneration; being sensible that it was the surest, and best In●…ctrix of Mankind, but that it gave Immortality to those that favoured it with their Protection, and Generosity.  
O sacer, & magnus vatum labour, omn●… Fato,  
Eripis, & populis donas mortalibus ●…vum.  
Whoever would raise his Mind above the Vulgar taste, and form in his Breast noble Designs, must apply himself to a reading of the Poets; as Petronius Arbiter has it.  

Artis severae siquis amat essectus  
Menteinque Magnis applicat—  
— 〈◊〉 pr●…os versibus annos  
Mae●…mque bibat faeli●… 〈◊〉 fontem.   
As there is a Natural Excellence in being a Poet, so is there in Esteeming one and nothing, shows the Degeneracy of an Age more, in Honour, as well as sense, than a Contempt of this Divine Science, and the 〈◊〉 Masters of it. So that I must in●…er that this Present Age is at a very low Ebb of Both; that, tho' blessed with as great Poets as ever Greece or Rome produced has so very little regard to them, as not to make Public Sacrifices of its Dross to the Use of Two such Extraordinary Men. There is a Plebeian Genius spread among us, and Generous and Noble Acts, are contemned and laughed at. But then, Sir, in so general a Defect to be Singular in Taste, challenges the more Honour; and this makes me ashamed to offer so unpolished and hasty a piece as this at your Feet, who are not only an excellent Judge of the most difficult Things, and even in the first Bloom of your Youth, have Mastered the whole Circle of the Sciences, but also have a peculiar Esteem for this I plead for, and by your admirable Choice of those you converse with, show you can let none of your Hours be lost, either with tristing Books in your Study, or Impertinent Coxcombs in your Conversation: I should not have the Vanity to say this, were I so happy as to be often blessed with your Company, I catch it but now and then unwilling to make you do Penance for my Satisfaction; and this Consideration will oblige me to put an end to this Essay, only desiring your leave publicly to declare myself what I am; That is,  
SIR, Your real Friend and humble Servant.   

To Mr. T. S. in Vindication of Mr. Milton's Paradise lost.  
SIR,  
YOU will pardon me, I am confident, tho' in Opposition to your Thoughts, I positively declare myself extremely well pleased with that part of Mr. Milton's most excellent Poem, to which you discover the least Inclination: Those Ancient, and consequently less Intelligible Words, P●…rases, and Similes, by which he frequently, and purposedly affects to express his Meaning, in my Opinion do well suit with the Venerable Antiquity, and Sublime Grandeur of his Subject. And how much soever some Unthinking have Condemned this his Choice. You, who have Maturely weighed, how much deeper an Impression less used, (so they be what you will grant his always are) Significant words, make on a Readers fancy, than such as are more common; (you I say) must pay a vast deference to Mr. Milton's great Judiciousness in this particular, no less than to his entire Manage of every part of that Charming Poem, in which upon every Occasion he discovers himself a perfect, unimitable Master of Language. Here are you forced to give a profound Attention to the Universal Creator, speaking like that Almighty, who by the Fiat of his Mouth made all things, and yet so Gracious are All his Expressions, as if he valued himself more on his Good Will to Man, than on his Prerogative over him: There, shall you read Man, addressing himself Submissively like a Creature, who owes his Being to a better, wiser, and higher power, and yet not so Abjectly, but you will easily perceive him to be Lord of the whole Creation. Elsewhere, you may see an Angel discovering himself, not a Little Man's Superior by Creation, in Place and Power more, but in Knowledge most of all. In another place, behold Woman, appearing Inferi●…r to both these, and yet more Ambitious than 〈◊〉, but then softer, much in her Make and Manners, than her rougher Spouse, whom down right Sincerity, and unaffe●…d plainness, seem mostly to Delight. Nor can I now forget with what vast complacency we have o●…t together read the most Natural, Lively, yet (as their Sexes) different Descriptions, our first Parents, separately make of their own Apprehensions of themselves, at their first finding themselves Living Creatures. Nay, the very fallen Angels are much Honoured above the best of their deserts, by the Amazing Relation, we there meet with of their Ambition, Malice, Inveteracy, and Cunning; and never was Scene, so livelily shown, as that of his Pandaemonium in the first Book. Once more, and you are not le's astonished at his Description, than he makes the Angels, to be at the Report of their Adversaries Thund●…ing Fireworks. And yet, if his Matter requires a Meaner Style, how much soever he speaks Loftily at one time, at another does, even to a Miracle, suit his Speech to his Subject. This (I well know) has been censured in him for Servile 〈◊〉; but if 'tis well considered, upon what proper Occasion he thus humbles his Style, 'twill be Accounted, (as really it is) his Great Commendation: But in praise of Mr. Milton's admirable Dexterity in this his Matchless Performance, since All I can say must come exceeding short of his due Merit, that I bring not myself under the Correction of that known saying. Praestat de Carthagine tacere quam pauca dicere. I shall venture to add no more but this; tho' the Composing such a complete Poem on such, a no less Obscure, than weighty Subject, was a Task to be performed by Mr. Milton only, yet 'tis not out of doubt, whether himself had ever been able so to Sing of Unrevealed Heavenly Mysteries, had he not been altogether deprived of his Outward Sigh●…, and thereby made capable of such continued 〈◊〉, Inward Speculations: as he who has the us●… of his Bodily Eyes, cannot possibly become possessed with. This however must be Granted, as indubitably true; The bountiful Powers above, did more than make him amends for their taking away his Sight, by so Illumining his Mind, as to enable him most completely to ●…ng of Matchless Being's, Matchless Things, before unknown to, and even unthought of by the whole Race of Men; thus rewarding him for a Temporary Loss, with an Eternal Fame, of which Envy itself shall not be able ever to deprive this best of Poems, ●…ir its most Judicious Author.  
In this Faith I Subscribe myself, SIR, Yours, etc.   

To J. H. Esq In Answer to the Question, Who was the Greatest English-Man.  
SIR,  
I Am extremely sensible under how many disadvantages I undertake the Resolution of your demand, who was the greatest Englishman? And but that I have this Satisfaction left me, that where the Meanness of my Thought is Inconsistent with the Eminency of his Virtues, and my ill management of the whole, looks like a lessening the Grandeur of his Actions, you will discover at once Goodness enough to pardon me, and to entertain an agreeable Opinion of my Hero; (but for this I say) I had not dared thus to expose my own Weakness, and his Worthiness.  
SIR,  
I have pitched upon Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and Viceregent of England, for this Man of Ten Thousand: A Man, who by his Merit alone raised himself from the meanest Condition, to the highest Honour: A Man in nothing unhappy, so much as to have lived in the Reign of Henry the VIII. of whom it was truly said, That he never spared Woman in his Lust, or his best Favourite in the Wrath. In whose chiefest Esteem our Cromwell did yet a long time remain: Admired by his Friends, dreaded by his Enemies, carest by all, and in one Word, invested with a more Extensive Power, than any Subject of England was ever before, or since possessed of. He was born at Putney, in Surrey, where his Father lived, an honest Blacksmith. In all the little Passages of his Youth, he discovered an Active Towering Disposition, fond of Travelling, and covetous of Employments, much greater than his Descent, or Education could pretend to; tho' Nature, the better to qualify him for the Grandeur, to which he was designed, had endowed him with an apprehensive Wit, a discerning Judgement, a prodigious Memory, a Florid Elocution, and a resolute Soul, not to be discomposed by the greatest Dangers.  
By what helps he crossed the Seas, I know not; but there I find him in the Year 1510. perfect in many Languages. and after a while associating himself to some Persons, deputed by the Town of Boston, to procure them two Pardons, for which they had been long Soliciting in vain at Rome. Cromwell observing that the Delays caused by the Pope's Ministers, proceeded only from their Griping Disposition, resolved by a Witty Stratagem to effect that, which by Reason and Importunity he could not: having one day prepared some delicious Jellies after the English manner, as the Pope was returning from Hunting, he approached him with these, and a Song, wherewith the Old Father Julius being extremely delighted; upon Enquiry after their Business and Country, he immediately stamped their Pa●…dons, and ordered 'em a Dispatch, having first learned the Manners of preparing a Dish so agreeable to his Holiness' Palate. And this little Contrivance is the more remarkable; for that the Court of Rome, which goes beyond all others in Intriguing, were hereby fairly Outwitted: He served afterwards in the Duke of 〈◊〉 's Army at the Siege of Rome, and was in the French Camp at the Defeat of Gatillion; as yet he had no true Sense of Religion, tho' after his Journey to Rome, in which he got the N●…w Testament by Heart, he began to be better acquainted with the Principles of Christianity. Upon his Return into England, finding Cardinal Wolsey the only Man in Favour, he entered into his Service, and advanced himself therein considerably, by acquitting himself faithfully of all things, wherewith he was entrusted; here he discovered such forwardness in the suppressing of several Monasteries, given by the King to the Cardinal his Master for building Christ's College, Oxon; as that thereby he procured himself such abundance of ill Will from the Superstitious, as that after the Cardinals Fall, he was represented to the King, as the worst of Men; and the King, the more easily credited, reports against him, because with much Zeal, and as much Ingenuity he pleaded the Cardinal's Cause in the House of Commons, (of which he was then a Member) and this his Fidelity, to his declining Master, is the more worthy Praise, for that 'tis rare indeed to see any one stand by a Falling Favourite.  
When Cromwell felt the Dissolution of Wolsey's Family, he endeavoured to get into the King's Service; which Sir Christopher Hales, Master of the Rolls, and my Lord. Russell happily brought about, tho' the King (as has been said) was prepossessed exceedingly to his disadvantage: My Lord (with a Goodness inseparable from his Family) earnestly solicited his Promotion, not only out of Gratitude (Cromwell having saved his Life at B●…nonia) but also because he sound him most forward to promote a Reformation in Religion, to which his Lordship stood well affected; and it was ●…ne Great Argument, made use of to move the King) to favour him, that he was the most fit of ●…ll others to 〈◊〉 the Int●…igues of the Popish Clergy. The King, after having admitted him to his Presence, asked him some Questions, and heard his Complaints against the most Eminent ●…ticklers for the Popes Supremacies: and as a mark of his special Favour, he gave him the Ring from his Finger, and sent him to the Convocation, which he having the King's Signet boldly entered, and seating himself among the Bishops●… to their great Amazement and Confusion, tax●… them with such Crimes as had brought them in t●… such a Praemunire, as that thereby (says he) yo●… have forfeited all your Goods, Chattels, Lands●… and whatever other Benefits you are possessed of●… By this means he enriched the King's Coffer wit●… 118840 l. which the Clergy had raised by Subsidy●… that by Act of Parliament they might be quitted from the Praemunire, into which Cromwell demonstrated they had run themselves.  
By such ways he Ingratiated himself very much with the King, who now conferred the Honour o●… Knighthood upon him, made him Master of th●… King's Jewel House, and soon after admitted him into the Privy Council; 1524 he was made Master of the Rolls, and in the year 1527 he was installed Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter●… and afterwards Created Earl of Essex, and Lor●… Great Chamberlain of England; and as the highest Mark of the King's Affection and Esteem fo●… him, he was constituted Vicegeront in the King●… Absence. Thus being raised to the very Pinnacle o●… Honour, like a Politic and Faithful Statesman, h●… was continually studying the Security of the Government, and the most proper methods for settling Peace and Tranquillity throughout the whol●… Kingdom; and in order hereunto, he resolved upon Correcting the Vices of the Age, encourageing Virtue, establishing Good Orders, and reforming Corruptions: And for that was manifest, there would not be wanting great Endeavours to subvert the Government: while Monasteries and such like Religious Houses (those Sources of vicious plotting Wretches, whose Interest it was to adhere to the Pope) were not destroyed, he induced the King to suppress 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, than the small Monasteries, and afterwards the Abbeys, till all the Religious Fraternities of that sort in England were dissolved. And that he might be sure of Success in his Resolution of settling the Reformed Religion, (of which he was a zealous Asserter, securing the Professors thereof from the Popish Bishop's Fury and Rage) he persuades the King to alley himself to some Protestant Prince; and accordingly a Match was made with the Lady Ann, Sister to the Prince of Cleve, by whose Protection the Protestants were very much Emboldened to a more public P●…osession of their Religion. Thus did he fortunately carry on the Reformation, to the larger growth, whereof he gave an extraordinary assistance, by obtaining from the King a Grant for publishing the Bible in the English Tongue, whereby many were helped to discern the Fallacies and Heresies of the R●…omish Faith, who before had taken up with what Trash the Priests had put upon 'em. Who now are importunate for a Convocation, which the King summoned to adjust Matters of Religion; in this Assembly Cromwell takes place of all the Clergy, by the Title of Vicar General, and disputes strennously for the Protestant Faith. But his Zeal on this Account procured him not a few considerable ●…nemies, of whom Bishop Gardiner (the most subtle and inveterate of all others) was still labouring to bring about his ruin, which at length, with a great deal of Joy he thought he saw a fit time for the accomplishment of, and herein, indeed, he was not mistaken. The King, by an inconstancy, natural to him, was grown weary of his Queen, and his Love was now placed upon the Lady Katherine Howard; this Gardener observing, took the Liberty to tell the King, that 'twas absolutely necessary for the Quiet of the Kingdom, and Security of the Succession, to have an English Queen; and at same time, with abundance of Cunning, he in●…igates the King against Cromwell, as the sole Cause of his unhappy Marriage with Q. Ann; and this so wrought upon his Majesty, (who was ever violent in his Love and Hatred) that imagining Cromwell was the only Obstacle to the Repudiation of his Wife, and his Match with Katherine, he so harkened to the Accusations of his Enemies, as to give Consent that he should be Arrested 〈◊〉 And accordingly by the Duke of Norfolk he was Arrested in the Council Chamber, and committed to the Tower, where he lay not long before h●… was attainted of High Treason. Some of the Articles against him were, That he had dispersed many Erroneous Books contrary to the Faith of the Sacrament; that he had Licenced many Preachers, suspected of Heresy; that he said he would not turn to the Pope's Obedience, tho' the King turned; but if the King did turn, he would fight in person against him; and drawing out hi●… Dagger, wished that might pierce him to the Heart if he should not do it; that hearing some Lords were plotting against him, he threatened he'd raise great Stirs in England. Tho' accused both of High Treason and Heresy, his Enemies durst not b●…ing him to a Trial; but against all Law and Justice he was condemned, while confined to the Tower; during his Imprisonment he requested one of the Commissioners, sent to treat with him, to carry from him a Letter to the King; which he refusing with passion, and saying he'd carry no Letter from a Traitor: Cromwell asked him only to deliver a Message from him, and upon his Consent. You shall recommend me to the King, (says Cromwell) and let him understand that by that time he hath so well tried you, and thoroughly proved you, as I have done, he shall find you as false a Man, as ever came about him. In all his adversity he was patiented to a Miracle; and when on the 28th of July he was brought to the Scaffold, and beheaded on Tower-Hill, he behaved himself with all the Gallantry and Constancy of a Resolved Christian. He uttered fervent Prayers, and made a short Speech, wherein he said he died in the Catholic Faith, meaning thereby no more (as from his whole Life, and even at his Death, wherein he used no Popish Ceremony, it must be concluded) than that he died in the true Christian Catholic Faith. Thus fell this Great Man, and with him for a long time did the Reformation seem to lie dead; his Death, who was the chief Instrument in it, putting such a stop to that imperfect work, that not Cran●… himself, in that King's Reign, could ever afterwards gain any Ground for it: Nay, rather did it decline, for several Preachers of the Reformed R●…ligion were burnt in a short time after; by all which it appears, how great a Loss the Church sustained, in being deprived of so able and powerful a Member, who more than any, opposed himself with Great Zeal against the Impudences and Contrivances of the Pope's Subtle and Malicious Agents.  
I shall not tyre your patience, if I recite a passage or two of this Brave Man's extraordinary Generosity. It is but too common for those, who from a low degree, are raised to a high Estate, to look with the greatest Contempt upon such, who have most obliged them; but our Cromwell in the full Enjoyment of all his Dignities, bore himself with a Moderation, peculiar to himself. Witness his taking notice of a poor Woman, who kept a Victualling-House, and had formerly trusted him to the value of 4●… s. whom espying, as he was riding through Cheapside, he ordered to be called to him; and after having acknowledged the Debt, he sent her to his House, discharged that, and gave her an Annual Pension of Four Pound, and a Livery, during Life. But what follows is much more remarkable; As he was riding with some Nobles to the King's Palace, he saw one footing it in the Streets, whom he thought he knew, immediately ordering his whole Train to await him; he lights off his Horse, upon Enquiry, finding him the Man he took him for, he embraces the Mean Stranger; and to the Wonderment of all about him, invites him to Dinner: his haste at that time prevented a longer stay; and therefore he left the amazed Stranger, who Enquiring his Name of my Lord's Attendants, began to be troubled with the reflections which this unexpected Accident gave him. Cromwell, who had stayed some time with the King, at his return home, finds him attending in the Court Yard, where again Embracing him, he takes him to his Table, and after some time finding the Lords who accompanied him, no less surprised at his Condescension than was the Stranger: he makes 'em this Relation; You wonder to see me thus Obliging, but you will be more amazed when I tell you I am more Indebted to this Very Man, than to the whole World beside; for after the defeat of Gatillion, I came to Florence so needy, that being forced to beg an Alms, this Worthy Merchant Mr. Francis Frescobald seeing I knew not what in my Face that pleased him upon Enquiry of what Country I was, pitying me in my Necessity, he took me home, and gave me a Suit of Apparel, a Horse and 16 Ducats of Gold to bear my Expenses to England; and now turning him about to Mr. Frescobald, And what, Dear Friend, (says he) has brought you hither? The generous Merchant after he had recovered himself out of the amaze this happy Providence cast him into, told him, That he was become so Poor by his vast Losses, that of all the Wealth he formerly enjoyed, but 15000 Ducats were left him, and they were Owing him here, and hard to be Got too: Cromwell, after he he had obtained a List of his Debtors, sent a Servant of his own, in his Name, to Demand those Sums for the Merchant: After Dinner, taking his Friend apart, he gave him first 16 Ducats for those he had received, than 10 for his Apparel, and 10 more for his Horse, and at last he Gave him Four Bags, each quantity 400 Ducats for Interest: after all, he passionately requested his stay in England, offering to lend him 〈◊〉 Ducats for 4 Years to Trade withal; but Frescobald having by Cromwell's Authority, obtained all his Money (preferring before all his Native Country) after a thousand Acknowledgements made him, returned for Florence, with a due Sense of this so Extraordinary and Generous Entertainment.  
But I am afraid, Sir, I grow too much upon your 〈◊〉 and therefore will shut up with the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Cra●…er gave him in a Letter to the K●… on his 〈◊〉— I have fou●… (says he) that my Lord Cromwell has always lov●… you above all 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Served you with such Fi●…lity and S●…, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…e no King of England 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a be●… 〈◊〉 and it is my 〈◊〉 t●… your Majesty may find a Counsellor who both can and will 〈◊〉 his Trust as my Lord Cromwell 〈◊〉 d●…ne.  
But alas, nothing could move that Inexorab●… 〈◊〉, who 〈◊〉 than ●…orego his unlawful Lust to the Lady H●…ward (whom he dared not Marry while Cromwell lived) Sacrificed this his Darling 〈◊〉. And tho' it adds Greatly to my Lord 〈◊〉, Fame, that after his Death, he was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 bewalled by the King, who frequently cried out for his Cromwell. Yet was not this a due Reparation to England for the ●…odd of such an Extraordinary Man whose Virtues were so Singular, his Services so Signal, both to the Nation in General, and to the Reformation in particular: whose Zeal to God was so True, whose Temp●…rance so Constant in all Conditions; who (in one word) was possessed of a Courage so 〈◊〉 and a Fidelity so rare, that I make no doubt you will with me Conclude, a Man Endowed with all these, and many more Excellent 〈◊〉, well deserves the Title of the Greatest Englishman, which therefore I affix to Thomas Cromwell the Great Earl of Essex, and so conclude,  
SIR, Yours, etc. J. J.   

Cloe to Urania, against women's being Learned.  
I Have, my dear Urania, so ill defended the the Cause you always 〈◊〉, that Lysander has convinced me that Lea●…ning is not for 〈◊〉 Sex; but before I make an entire delivery of my Judgement to his Arguments; I thought sit to send them, as well as I can remember them, to Urania, to see what influence they'll have on her; and how she'll defend the Point against an Opponent, she has often so well handled without one.  
Lysander will have it, That Learning in common Prudence ought by the Men to be denied us; since it would not only make us proud, and imperious, and aspire to the command over Men; which, as we might by such Auxiliary force easily obtain, the Charms of the Body alone giving us too great an Ascendant over Men; so we should not want the desire of obtaining it, having got the means. Secondly, That since, as he will have it, we were designed by God for Obedience, not Rule; to be instructed by our Husbands, and to study only Household Affairs, it would be Impious to raise us from the Office Nature had allotted us, to a Nobler Station. Thirdly, That Learned Women are seldom chaste, Learning disposing 'em to Inconstancy, and Infidelity to their Husbands in longing for foreign Embraces, and that betwixt a Woman's Desire and Act, there is nothing but Opportunity.  
This, in short, is the Substance of what he urged tho' with more advantageous Circumstances of a ●…ine turn of words, and several Examples to confirm his Assertions, which whether true or false, I cannot determine. But one thing I must not forget; that he much urged a Book called, Advice to a Daughter, the Authority of which was too much Established for me to Condemn. 〈◊〉 leave the whole to the Judicious, and Ingenio●… Urania, whom I, and every one must own the be●… Advocate for our Sex. But tho' I'll never dispute that Prize with you, yet I shall always that of which of us is the best Friend, and you must confess, that I am without reserve  
your Sincere, and Faithful Cloe.   

An Answer to the foregoing Letter in Defence of women's being Learned. URANIA to CLOE.  
I Received yours; my Charming Cloe, the beginning of the last Week, but the Niceness of the Subject, would not permit me to send you an immediate Answer, being too much, at that time, taken up with other Affairs; but having now got an Hour to myself, I shall cursorily consider the weight of Lysander's Objections.  
Lysander, I must confess, is a Man of a great d●… of Wit, and delivers his Arguments on any Subject with that address, that they appear much stronger from his Mouth, than in Writing; yet I must assure you, nothing I have yet seen of his carries so little weight, as what you have sent me; which shows how bad a Cause he had undertaken, since it could only furnish him with such weak Supports, as he has produced. And I'm confident, your Love for Lysander, bribed your Judgement to his side, which you have too much of to submit to such feeble Reasonings.  
Learning, he tells you, will add fresh Pride to our Sex, and kindle an Ambition in us of Commanding over that of Man, which we should certainly pursue, assisted with so powerful an Auxiliary, since with these Charms Nature has bestowed on our Bodies, we go so far already, and discover a desire of an absolute Mastery.  
This is so Cobweb, and Vulgar a Sophism, that I'm amazed to hear it from the Mouth of Lysander. Is he Ignorant of the Nature of Learning? or, is he not very sensible that it teaches one to know one's self? the consequence of which must certainly, in any Woman of sense, produce Humility, not Pride. It furnishes us with Masculine, nay, Divine Thoughts, that are equally serviceable to ourselves, and Husbands. It makes us contemn the designing Flatteries of Men, when they deify that Beauty, which vanishes in a moment, and which Fools preserve with so much Care, for a Bair, and Snare to both their own and their Admirers Ruin. Learning teaches Wisdom, which can never render us so opposite t●…●…he Established Oeconomy of the World, as to make us once think so wildly, as to attempt the inverting so prevalent, and inveterate a Custom as the Sovereignty of the Men. Besides, Nature has formed us too weak, to effect a Revolution that depends on the Force, and Strength of Body, as well as Mind; since Politics are mere useless Theories, without Able Hands to put 'em in Execution. But if we must needs suppose this mighty Revolution effected, who would not be willing to be Subject to so agreeable a Power, in which Wisdom, and Beauty joined. But, my Cloe, does Lysander forget that a great many Women without Learning direct their Husbands, and have a very awful influence over them; but I ear●…ing would qualify that extraordinary Ascendant, by making that Rational, which was before only the blind Effect of Passion and Fondness.  
Lysander's Second Objection, That Women were by their Creator designed for Obedience not Rule; to be instructed by their Husbands not to instruct them; and to Study nothing but their Household Affairs.—; Partly depends of what has been said to the first. Tho', by the way, Lysander makes a little bold with the Secrets of the Almighty in that Affe●…tion, tho' I confess, the Curse that was laid on Eve for her Transgression, might give him occasion to say so, tho' it prove directly the contrary, as my Viridomar, has formerly observed; for if Woman was created the Subject, and Vassal of Man, it had been no Punishment to've inflicted that Subjection on her.  
But, my Cl●…e, I think 'tis evident, that Learning will not lessen that Obedience it teaches them; which will therefore make them practise it as a Duty of Reason, not Custom, and Imposition, two weighty and provoking Motives of Opposition. As to the Second Branch of this Objection, viz. That we are to be instructed by our Husbands, etc. Learning save's a Husband that's capable, the Labour; and the Husband that is not, the Shame of attempting what he's not able to perform; And by giving him an Emulation of his Wives Virtues, make him endeavour not to be outdone by a Woman, in Masculine, and Rational Excellencies, by improving his Mind with Nobler Qualifications; and not wholly devote himself to such fordid Employments, and Diversions, which are generally the whole Business and Entertainment of too many Gentlemen; I mean, the Bottle, the Whore, the Dice, with Hunting, Hawking, Co●…sing, and the rest of that wretched Train, as if they were born never to think.  
I come now to Lysander's last Objection, which is indeed the most infamous of all the Scandals he endeavours to throw on Learned Women, viz. that their Knowledge makes 'em seldom chaste, and breeds in 'em wand●…ing Desires.— Were this true, I must own it a very Substantial Argument, and I should yield that all my Sex should be kept from the use of Books as cautiously, as Madmen from Edge-Tools. But, my Cloe, the Assertion is too general to be true, to which I myself could bring not a few Exceptions. The instances he produced, tho' you doubt, yet to please him I'll admit, supposing therefore that such and such Learned Women have been Whores, it still remains, that he prove this was the effect of their Learning, not Nature, and that if they had not been Learned, they would not of been Whores. A Task, not so easily performed. But since a bold Assertion is no proof of any thing, it may be justly confronted with an opposite. I shall therefore affirm, That those Women, who, tho' Learned, are Whores, would be much more prostitute without it; for tho' those Inclinations, Nature and Constitution have given 'em, are not always entirely overcome by Learning, yet are the violence of them regulated, and reduced to a greater Moderation. 'Tis not to be denied, That Learning being very uncommon in Woman, when 'tis found in one, it draws a more Numerous Train of Addresses from the Men; but were it more common, they would by being divided, be more easily resisted: Nay, the very Motive would be taken away, by the commonness of Learned Women, the rarity of which, is the chief bait on these occasions.  
Having thus run through Lysander's formidable Troop of Arguments, I shall add a pleasant Fancy of my own, which is, That the Practice of admitting Women to the Arts and Sciences, would convince the Infidels of the Jewish and Turkish Persuasion, that Women have Souls, since they were not wholly taken up with the Ornament, and care of the Body only, and then we might hope an equal Share in the Paradise of Mahomet, with the Men, and not be shut out of the Synagogue by the Rabbis.  
But that I may wholly obviate all your Scruples, I shall say one word now to that celebrated Book of the Advice to a Daughter, designing at a better opportunity to give a fuller Answer to a Book I have very little Esteem for.  
I can never admit that an implicit Faith is more excusable in our Sex, than in his; because I can by no means discover, that what he advances ca●…ries any thing of Reason with it. These are his Words.—  
As to your particular Faith, keep to the Religion that is grown up with you, both as it is the best in itself, and that the Reason of staing in it on that Account, is somewhat stronger for your Sex, than it will perhaps be allowed to be for ours, in respect of the voluminous Inquiries into Truth by reading, are less expected from you.—  
Here you find a flourish of words indeed, but in my poor opinion, no very weighty Sense. The stress of the whole lies on a false support; I mean, the corrupt Custom of the Age; which, he says, will not Expect Our reading, and search after the most Material of Truths, that this Life i●… given us for; if Truth be obscured by so many Volumes, 'tis the fault of those in whose hands i●… has so long been reserved. If it be a Truth tha●… is also necessary for our Future Happines●… to be rightly informed in; 'tis certainly equally our Duty to inquire into it; and they are to blam●… who deprive us of the fittest means, Learning 〈◊〉 and it it be an incumbent Duty, 'twill be but 〈◊〉 weak and poor Excuse for continuing in an Erro●… because we were bred in one; Besides, this wo●… hold on all sides, and must of Consequence be ver●… fallacious; and I must needs add, That whateve●… Figure a Lady would make, by the Direction o●… this Advice, in the Court, she would make but 〈◊〉 very indifferent one in Reason. But 'tis evident, that he is not in earnest, when a little after he prescribes a quite contrary Rule— Let me recommend to you (says he) a Method of being Rightly informed, which can never fail; 'tis in short this— Get Understanding, and practice Uirtue, etc. Now how she should get this Understanding he leaves her, and us in the Dark; tho' I am confident it can never be obtained to a degree of being Rightly informed without Learning; unless he would have it by Inspiration, which I humbiy pres●…me, is none of the most solid Understandings in our Age.  
But my charming Friend, I have detained you too long this bout to say any more on this Subject, or Book, when we meet I'll give you more of my Sentiments, which nothing could make me so free of imparting, but the Pleasure I have to please such a Friend; tho' I shall never yield to you in sincerity, or any other Duties that are ●…ow'd to Cloe, by  
Her faithful Friend, Urania.   

Some Reflections on Mr. Rymer's Short View of Tragedy, and an Attempt at a Vindication of SHAKESPEARE, in an Essay directed to JOHN DRYDEN Esq  
AS soon as Mr. Rymer's Book came to my Hands, I resolved to make some Reflections upon it, tho' more to show my Will than my Abilities. But finding Mr. Dennis had almost promised the World a Vindication of the Incomparable Shakespeare, I quitted the Design, since he had got a Champion more equal to his Worth; not doubting but Mr. Dennis would as effectually confute our Hypercritic in this, as all Men must grant he has, in what he attempted in his Impartial Critic.  
But expecting thus long, without hearing any farther of it; I concluded some other more important, or at least more agreeable business, had diverted him from it; or that he thought it a●… unnecessary Undertaking, to persuade the Town o●… a Truth it already received; or to give any farther Answer to a Book, that carried its own Condemnation in its self. However, since I find some build an Assurance on this General Silence o●… all the Friends of Shakespeare, that Mr. Rymer's Objections are unanswerable; I resolved to besto●… two or three days on an Essay to prove the contrary: Which may at least bring this advantage to the Cause, to convince the World how very good it is, when one of my Inability, in so little time, have so much to say for it, and that without going through the whole Defence.  
I indeed, like the most indifferent Counsel make the Motion, but leave more able Heads to Plead the Cause. One great Satisfaction, I have (however I succeed) is, that I speak before a Judge that is the best Qualified to decide a Controversy of this Nature, that ever England produced; for in you, Sir, The Poet, and The Critic meet in their highest Perfection; and, if the Critic discover the Faults of Shakespeare, The Poet will also see, and admire ●…is Beauties, and Perfections. For as you have Learning, and strong Judgement to discern his ●…east Transgressions, so have you a Genius that can reach his Noblest Flights; and a Justice that ●…ill acknowledge his Deserts: And were there no ●…ther Arguments to be brought in his Vindication, ●…t would be more, than sufficient to destroy all ●…is weak Antagonist has huddled together against ●…im, that you give him your Approbation. This, ●…ir, is really my Opinion, and I'm sure the most ●…ensible Lovers of Poetry will side with me in it: ●…nd secure me from the Imputation of being so ●…oolishly vain, to think I Can flatter You, when speak of your Poetry, your Judgement, and ●…our Candour; since whatever can be said on that ●…ubject, by any one below Mr. Dryden's Abi●…ties, would be but a very faint Shadow of the Mighty Panegyric of your Name alone.  
The Method I shall observe in these Reflections (for my time will not permit me to bring so confused a Chaos into a more regular Form) will be first to run over the Pages of his Book as they lie, and give you some Animadversions in part of those Absurdities they contain: for to examine all, would swell my Letter into a Volume, and be five hundred times as big as the Text, like a certain Reverend Dr. on Job. Next, I shall attempt a Vindication of Shakespeare, where he more formerly attaques him.  
In the first, I hope you'll forgive me, if I use him with no more Respect, than he does Shakespeare or You: And in the latter, I hope you will admit Recriminations on those Patterns, h●… proposes to us for the Test, of Shakespear's Faults, as a sufficient Answer to what he Magisterially lays down, as Self-Evident, with a Scornful, tho' Clumsy Jest, without any other Reason to confirm it; if not as a Demonstration of that Injured Poet's Excellence. And that we may from thence conclude with Mr. Rymer (as he ha●… it in his Preface to Rapine) since his Standards o●… Perfection are equally culpable, That the greatest Wits, both Modern, and Ancient, sometimes slip, a●… are liable to Cavils: And by consequence, that all his Pains were needless to bring Shakespeare into that Number, since his greatest Admirers eve●… confessed he had Faults: Tho' no Man but himself I believe, ever Robbed him of all Excellence; and I must say, That most that he produces are mee●… Cavils, and convict him of being one of those Critics, that like Wasps rather annoy the Bees, than terrify the Drones.  
But, indeed, the Lovers of Shakespeare may well forgive the Author of Edgar, and this Short view of Tragedy, whatever he can say against his Excellence and Genius; since being his Opposité, 'tis no wonder his Mind's not capacious enough to Comprehend, nor his Taste Poetical enough to relish the Noble Thoughts which the Ingenious have admired in Shakespeare ever since he Writ.  
It has been the Fate of most Critics on Poetry, to Err in those Things they Condemn in others, or to discover by their Writing, how ill qualityed they are to judge of any thing, but the Regularity of the Structure of a Poem, which the Known Rules of Art furnish them with, the chief formation of a Poet being wanting; Nature denying them the Divitem Venam. Petronius Arbiter, so severe on Lucan, and Seneca (for on them he reflects in his Satyricen) kept not clear of that unnatural Affectation he condemned in them. Joseph and Julius Scaliger (as Rapine observes) had the Art, but wanted the supply of Nature when they attempted Poetry. But Mr. Rymer in any thing he has yet published, has not the l●…ast shadow of pretence to the Excellence of either of these. Petronius had Wit, had Fire, a Genius, and Language; and though the Scaligers were not Poets, yet had they the Merits of pretty good Critics; but this Gentleman, has scarce produced one Criticism, that is not borrowed from Rapine, Da●…, or Boss●…, and mis-applyed to Shakespeare. And for his Poetry, from the Heroic Tragedy of Edgar, to the River zounds, he discovers not the least Genius, nor Taste of it; and therefore must be granted a very incompetent Judge of such a Poet as Shakespeare is.  
Some of my Friends, whose Authority was very great with me, would needs have me examine Edgar; but there were two things that obstructed my compliance with them— The First, That it was so abominably stored with Opium, that I could not possibly keep my Eyes open to read it attentively; The other, That 'twas such a Banter in itself on Poetry and sense, that all the pains I could take about it, would be only to give him the vanity of imagining it worth any Man's taking Notice of.  
The Piece now under our Consideration is in a Vein something more merry, and uncommon; for tho' 'tis frequent enough to meet with a dull Poetaster for a Poet, yet 'tis something more rare to encounter a jolly Droll for a Critic. Tho', that with the abundance of Ill Nature, Conceit, and Affectation of appearing a Scholar, is the Vehicle that carries off his Nonsense, with as ill Judges of that, as he is of Poetry, and makes them take it for an extraordinary Thing: and this will make the better excuse for my examining how very Monstrous a Fantom 'tis, that is set out in so formidable an Equipage.  
To pass over the Epistle Dedicatory, which like ●…ays his Prologues, may serve as well for any other Book as this, nay— and for any other Lord too, as well as the Noble Lord 'tis addressed to (whose generous Patronage of all that have any Merit in the Republic of letters, aught to have secured him from such a Profanation) And what's more, will do every jot as well, for an Advertisement to the Courteous Reader, as for an Epistle Dedicatory, it being a Medley of Stuff without Coherence, Design, or English. But to examine all that's Unintelligible, false English, and absurd, would be an Herculean Labour, and extend my Considerations to every Line. I shall begin with the Work its self, not less abrupt, or inconsistent.  
He gins with the Necessity of a Chorus, urging, That, as 'twas the the Original, so 'tis the most Essential part of a Tragedy, because it keeps the Poet, to the Unities of time, and place: But 'tis evident, from the Suppliants of Euripides (as you, Sir, have formerly observed) and from Raci●…es Hester, (as Mr. Dennis has noted) that the Chorus does not necessarily do what Mr. Rymer pretends; nor was it at all in Horace's Thoughts, if we may judge of them by the Precepts he gives about it in his Art of Poetry.  
But Mr. Dennis having evidently cleared this Point, I shall say no more of it; but that if, as our Critic contends, 'tis the Poet's incumbent Duty to gratify the Eyes, as well as Ears; this must be done without offending against Nature, and Probability, as the Chorus does. (which is abundantly proved by the Impartial Critic). But by those who have a more necessary Relation to the Action and Fable, as the Senators of Venice in O●…bello, whom 〈◊〉 reflects on; though, as they have a Necessary concern in the Play, so could they not be int●…oduc'd winthout their Habits, which afford that Gratification to the Eye he makes the Duty of every Poet without the help of so foreign, and unnatural a Thing as a Ch●…rus.  
The 3d. and 4th. Pages are almost unintelligible, and at cross purposes one Paragraph with another; for he will have it, That the words of Shakespeare do not set off the Action, and then of a ●…uddain he concludes the contrary, that they do Next, P. 6. he has an admirable ●…etch, to prove that Pronunciation is a notable Vehicle, to carry off Nonsense, by showing that it set off the Sense of Demost●…nes. 'Tis granted, That a good and true 〈◊〉, is a great help to Sense, because i●… s●…s i●… in its proper ●…ight, as ill repeating 〈◊〉 it in a false one, and makes it lose its lust●…e; as Martial sensibly obs●…ves to Fidentinus.  
Q●…m re●…as mens est, o Fidentine libellus.  
Sed Male 〈◊〉 recitas incipit esse tuus.  
But it seems to me, That the Reason, which makes Good Pronunciation set off Sense, must make 〈◊〉 more visible; for the giving every Word, and Sentence its true Emphasis, must make the ●…lunder more obvious, to even those, who in the Reading won'd perhaps over look it. I grant, that the P●…p of the Theatre may, perhaps, dull the edge of our Judgement, but Pronunciation never can. But were all this true, I can't find that Shakespeare falls justl●… under his 〈◊〉, as to this particular; for he affirms, That 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉, and Pronunciation, lose their force under a 〈◊〉 Perusal; yet after such a Perusal, Shakespeare does still maintain his Reputation with the greatest Genius's our Nation has produced in Poetry: His Excellence therefore is not built on those Supports, but i●…ate Worth, and by Consequence all his incoherent bustle is to very little purpose.  
But the next Proof of the power of S●…ew, Action, and Pronunciation, is extremely merry. P. 8. He tells us, That Cardinal 〈◊〉 was by them influenced in his mighty Approbation of the Tragedy of Sir Thomas Moor, tho' there were neither Poetry, nor Sense in it. Yet were not these able to by ass his nice Ta●… to fav●…ur the Cull of Corn●…l (who had more of a Poet, th●…n one of our Fl●…no's 〈◊〉) which places the ●…dinal ●…n the Majores Numero, of the Division of Judges made by 〈◊〉, clear contrary to our Critic's intention. Well, I must say this for him, That tho' his Reasons and Observations are ●…ar from irrefragable, yet his Rambles are admirable and u●…accountable from a Comical Harangue against Operas, P. 9, 10, 11, 12. he runs to Verse burlesque and how long it had been in Italy before it passed the Alps, I suppose, to show us he had read Pelisson, quoted in the Margin, for the Devil a-bit had it to do with th●… Business in hand. Thence with another leap, he jumps back again t●… Aesebylus his Persi●…ns, proposing it for a Model proportioned to our English Capacities. Of which, Page the 13th having drawn in imitation in the Spanish Expedition of 1●…88. our Tragaedo didasculus dubs it the Invincible Armado. His draught indeed is very nice and circumstantial, in the very serious, and at the same time extremely Ridiculous Account of all the Incidents of this Draught to the very Beards of the Spanish Grandees; the Tuns of Tar Barrels for the Heretics; and the squabbling of the Cabinet Council, about Preferments not yet in their Power. And is it not as great an Error in Manners, as any Shakespeare is guilty of in the worst of his Plays, to make the greatest Politicians of that Age such egregious Coxco●…bs? But what wretched Mortal is there of so very sorrowful or morose a temper, that must not laugh to hear him say, That on this Occasion two Competitors have just●… Occasion to workup, and show the Muscles of their Passion, than Shakespears, Cassius, and Brutus? Could any Pugg in Barbary be so ignorant of comm●…n Sense and Reason as this? he must Pardon, the Expre●…ion, 'tis his own to a much greater Man, than himself.  
'Tis true, he tells us with his usual Magisterial Assurance. That these Spanish Grandees of his Creation, have a ●…ster Occasion for a Passionate Scene than Shakespears, Brutus, and Cassi●…s: But I 〈◊〉 ask his Pardon if I subscribe not to his Opinion: But to punish him sufficiently for this gross Absordity, and Arrogance, lay down the matter barely as 'tis, proposing the Occasions just as they lie in both these Authors, our H●…storiographer, I mean, and the inimitable Shakespeare.  
First, Here is a Council of 15 of the greatest, old Politic Heads that Age produced in Spain, quarrelling with one another about things out of possession, In Utopia, To be Kings of Man; Duke- Tr●…ncalos, and Duke- Step●…nos, etc. is there either Nature or Possibility of this? so far is it from any probable Ground.  
On the other hand: Here is Cassius, a Passionate, Ambitious, and Avariti●…us Roman, impatient to bear a refusal of a Request he made for Lu●…ius Pella, that was found guilty of Bribery (a Crime himself was guilty of) looking on himself of equal Power at least with Bru●…us, and a Brother, if not Father of the War, being Ambitious and Choleric too, as I said, could not but resent it as an infringing his Authority, and Friendship; and by consequence discover his Resentment at first meeting. But this is not all the Ground of ●…his Scene: Here is Brutus on the other hand, a ●…evere follower of Virtue, to which he Sacrificed ●…is Friend and Father, Caesar, and could not therefore but resent Cassius' deviating from Virtue●… his pretence to which made him his Friend. How ●…ou'd he bear with Cassius in his Bribery and Ava●…ice, who could not with Caesar's Ambition? ●…or ●…n denying Money for the Payment of those Le●…ions (on whose Fidelity, not only their Lives, but ●…he Fat●…, and Liberty of Rome, which was yet ●…earer to Brutus, depended) he gave them up to Octavius and Anthony.  
Is there any Parallel indeed betwixt these two Occasions? Can there be any thing more Childish and trifling, than the first? And can there be any thing greater, and more weighty than the latter 〈◊〉 The Prize of Chimaeras on one side, and the Liberty, and Fate of the greatest Empire in the World; nay, Life, Honour, Vi●…tue, and all that can or aught to be dear on the other.  
Let this be a convincing proof of the Genius and Judgement of our Histortographer Royal, who could prefer his own dull Bu●…lesque on Common Sense to this incomparable Scene of Shakespeare, whic●… is justly admired by all Men of Sense.  
But to proceed, If Desdemona's Character b●… below the dignity of Tragedy, what are these Sp●…nish Segniora's, who a●…e to spend a whole Act 〈◊〉 telling of Dreams, which were likely to have 〈◊〉 mighty influence on the Spanish Politicians, (always noted for their Religion and Bigottr●… as to fur●…ish out Distruct●…ns and Disorders 〈◊〉 for an Act. The Draught of the next Act is e'●…●…ot as merry: for 'tis very Natural indeed, a●… nicely according to Manners, to bring in a Ki●… Philosoph●…ng on Dreams, and Hobgoblins! unle●… he were to be such a King as he so much admi●… in the Rehearsal; for a King Phiz by his form●… Profession, might be supposed to have some N●…ble, if not Noble Thoughts (as our Critic requi●… on the Matter.  
The 16th. Page, is a brief, tho' fully as ridi●…lous fumming up of what he had said at la●… before, tho' the Fourth Act is above measure C●…mical, where the Spaniard is to be beaten off with a Vanguard of Dreams and Goblins, and the Terrors of the Night.  
For my part, on the first reading it, I thought him absolutely out of his Wits, or what's all one, that he had a Mind to be lewdly, merry extremely out of Season, or Play the Droll, to show how much he was better qualified for a Farcewright, than a Critic. But being assured since by several Ingenious Gentlemen, that he not only means it as a serious thing, but that the Doctors do not think him Mad enough for ●…edlam, I will turn the Advice he has the extraordinary Assurance to give you, infinitely more justly to himself, that he would undertake the Writing upon this admirable Plot; and for his Encouragement, I assure him, it shall not 〈◊〉 the Fate of his Edgar, but be Acted, with a ●…rm belief, that if it do not Pit●…ox and Gallery-it, with any of Shakespears: ●…et it may bear the Bell (to borrow an extraordinary Phrase from our Histor●…ographer Royal) from ●…he Devil of a Wise, or Dr. Faust●…; because the ●…ery excessive Extravagance of the Thought might, make us laugh, whereas Edgar could provoke no●…hing but Sleep.  
But his putting this on you, Sir, after so many Public Expressions of your Friendship for him, & private Services (as I'm informed) done him, shows ●…is Morals, as faulty, as the Manners he has laid ●…own for the Heroes of this Anti-Tragedy. With ●…hat Face could he put so little and scurrilous an Affront on you, in this Book, without provocation, who in his Preface to Rapine, did prefer your Description of Night to all the Master strokes of the Ancients, and Moderns. If you had no other me●…its certainly the Judgement of Virgil animated with a more sprightly Wit, deserved better from him than so mean, and so ungenerous an Abuse. But now to the next Chapter.  
To show he had read Plato, he quotes him P. 18. to prove what no body yet ever denied that knew any thing of the Original of Tragedy. Nor has any one, that I ever met with, pretended that there was no Poem, that had the Name of Tragedy before the time of Thespis. But if from hence he would infer that Tragedy was Acted before his time, he proceeds farther, than the words of Plato, or any other Authority will warrant him, for till Thespis, it was only a Hymn to Bacchus, Sung and Performed in Dances, and Gefticulations by the Chorus. But than it had no Episode or Actor; and therefore Thespis was the Original of the Tragedies, that are Acted, tho' lie built it on the Foundation of the religious Goat-Song; this, not only Horace, but all the Critic's, I have met with, affirm. And himself confesses, P. 19 that when it came to be an Image of the World, it than had a secular Alloy, and was by Consequence altered from what it was before, that is, from a Religious Hymn, to a Representation of Humane Life. The End therefore and Aim of it being thus altered, the Mediums to that End, must of Consequence, be altered too. Th●… praise of Bacchus was no more Necessary to forming an Image of Humane Life, than the Praise of Hercules, or any other of the Gods. Now, if the Chorus be necessary, because 'twas the Original of Tragedy, 'tis equally necessary the Chorus should celebrate the Praise of Bacchus, as it originally did; but if Tragedy by the Alteration of its end were set on a new bottom, we are no longer obliged to regulate it according to its first Institution. So that I can see no reason, that because Sophocles retained the Chorus, it was therefore a necessary part of Tragedy, or if it be, why the Dancing and Music that was continued with it, was any more mere Religion, than the Chorus its self, or a less necessary part of Tragedy, since both were of equal date, as to their Rise, and End. But this only en passant.  
P. 20. Next, he le●…s to the Care the Government had of the Theatre, in permitting no Poet to present a Play to the House till past Thirty. This Observation might, perhaps, proceed from Self-Interest, hoping to persuade us, that, upon another Vacancy, he is qualified for Poet Laureate, intimating, that the older a Man grows, the sitter he is for a Poet, contrary to the ●…udgment of his Friend Rapine; from whom he 〈◊〉 the Observation that the Athenians spent more of the Public Money about their Chorus', and other Decorations of the Stage, than in all their Wars with Persia. From hence he soon passes to his beloved Aristophanes (and to do him Justice, he always expresses an extraordinary Passion for ●…arces) tho' I am to seek in what he drives at in all those Praises he bestows on him, for Running a Muc, (as he phrases it) at all manner of Vice wher●… ever be saw it, be it in the greatest Philosophers, th●… greatest Poets, the Generals, or the Ministers of State●… Would he have our Poets follow his example, and expose our Divines, Bishops, Lords, Generals, and Ministers of State? If this be his desire, yet either h●… ought not to blame them for their Defect in that or is in Justice bound to secure them from the Penalties, they would incur by doing so: Scan. Ma●… and some such odd things are Bug-bears, th●… would have frightened his Aristophanes, from hi●… freedom, if the Athenian Law, like ours, had secured Vice, and Folly in the Great ones, from th●… attaques of Poets. He ought therefore either t●… moderate his Indignation at our Poets for only exposing the Common Life of Mankind, or if 〈◊〉 would have none but Statesmen, and Generals ●…dicul'd, let him lead the Dance; and fear not th●… Success of Aristophanes, being so well qualified fo●… a Parce-Wright; his Propensity to that, influ●…cing perhaps his Judgement in favour of this Gre●… Poet, above all those that succeeded him. Th●… Quintilian, as good a Judge as Mr. Rymer says 〈◊〉 Menander, not Aristophanes, meo judicio diligen●… lectus, ad cuncta quae praecipimus efficienda suffic●… Ita omnium Imaginem in vitâ Expressit. Tanta in 〈◊〉 inveniendi Copia, el●…quendi facultas, ita omnibus R●…bus, Personis, affectibus accommodatus, ut omnib●… ejusdem operis Autoribus tenebras obduxarit. B●… Mr. Rymer must be singular in his Opinion, 〈◊〉 he could not keep up his Character, as he is in th●… meaning of those two Verses he quotes, Pag. 25.  
Non minimum meruere d●…cus, vestigia Graeca,  
Ausi deserere, & celebrare Domestica facta.  
He will have it, that non Minimum is but a faint Commendation; tho' 'tis evident from the best of the Latin Authors, that non Minimum is used for Magnum, if not Maximum. 'Tis perhaps used by Horace as a more Modest expression of their Worth, that he might not incur the imputation of flattering by a stronger Praise, those who were living. But I de●…e him to produce non Minimum in Cicero, or any other Author of Note, in a sense less than Magnum. Nor does that Quotation out of the Sixth Book of Virgil's Aeneids, prove at all that Virgil gave up the Cause, and yielded ●…he Grecians more excellent in Poetry than the Latins, any more than Horace did in the Epistle by him ●…oted, for thus it runs,  

Excudent alii spirantia mollius aera,  
Credo quidem, vivos ducent de murm●…re vultus:  
Orabunt causas mel●…us, caelique meatus,  
Describent radio, & surgentia sidera dicent.  
Tu Regere imperio populos Roman memento;  
(Hae tibi erunt Artes) pacisque imponere Morem,  
Parcere subjectis & debellare superbos.   
From which 'tis evident that he meant only ●…his, that Governing Nations, and Justice should ●…e their chief Care, and greatest Art, not that he thought the Romans did not excel the Grecians in others too; for, I believe, none will deny but Cicero was a greater Orator than Demosthenes, or at least as great, and that Virgil was as great a Poet, as Homer. And for other Arts, Pliny was of opinion, That the Romans excelled the Grecians even in 'em, as well as that of Governing, when he says in the 36th Book of his Natural History, That he would show the World conquered in the Works of Art, as well as by the Sword, and then proceeds to Painting, Statuary, etc.  
But, Sir, I fear, I shall tyre your patience should I touch upon every Page; I'll therefore step to P. 63. and with that and the 65th. make an end of my Reflections, and then examine more particularly what relates to Shakespeare. P. 63. he expresses himself much against Rhyme in Plays, by which he not only shows his Mind is much altered since he writ Edgar in Rhyme; but also makes it the distinctive mark of Heroic Verse in English, as the numbers of Hexameters are of Latin Heroics: But he gives us no Reason for the Parallel, for that indeed would be to break an old custom, which he's very fond of. If therefore I could produce no Argument against him in particular, yet must, a bare denial, be granted equivalent to a bare Assertion: but the matter is not so barren of Reason, as to be destitute of a very convincing proof of the contrary, viz. The Numbers or Feet distinguish the Latin Verse, and the Numbers of Hexameters are very different from those of Jambics, which is the Verse most used, at least out of the Chorus, in Tragedy, so in English 'tis the Feet, or Numbers that distinguish Heroic Verse from all others, whereas the Numbers are the same in blanc Verse, as in Rhyme; so that they are equally He●…oic Verse, and Milton's Paradise lost, is a sufficient proof of this; so that according to Mr. Rymer all Verse of ten Syllables are as improper for Tragedies in English, as Pentameters are in Latin, for that is the consequence of his Arguments,  
The second Paragraph of P. 65, That furnishes me with the subject of my last Reflection, is a Masterpiece, composed of his belov'd ingredients, the unaccountable, and the unintelligible; for he tells us, that since the decay of the Roman Empire, this Island has been more fortunate in Matters of Poetry, than any of our Neighbours, etc. I must tell him that it must be a good-natured Reader that (after all he has said) shall take his word for't; for I can't see how he can make it out, if Shakespeare be so far from a Poet, as not to be sit to write Ballads, or what's all one, as ignorant of Nature as any Pug in Barbary; if Ben Johnson be guilty of such Stupidity; if Milton, as he commonly asserts, have nothing in him; and Beaumond and Fletcher are such, as he represents 'em. He would do well to fix this Excellence above our Neighbours ●…omewhere; for hitherto he has done nothing but ●…rraign our greatest Poets. But the latter end of ●…his Paragraph as unintelligible as 'tis, must I find ●…ass for a Proof of this, if we will have any from ●…im. We find (says he) the British Poetry to this day: To confirm which, he proceeds thus. One of our oldest Medals b●…ars a harp on the Kevers, with the Name Kunobuline around it: But what of that good Sir? What if it had Merlin, Gildas, and half a score more about it, what's the consequence? I advise him in his next Book not to put his Friends to such trouble to understand him; for my part I could never yet meet with an Oedipus to solve the Riddle; for what has the oldest Medal to do with the proof of our having the British Poetry to this day, unless the other side of the Medal had furnished us with some of it, if he draw not the odd consequence from the Harp; that where there is Music, there must be Poetry; as where there is Smoak, there must be Fire, according to the laudable Observation of our Matrons of Antiquity.  
But there needed no Medal of Kunobuline to be produced; for the proof of the early use of Potry in this Island, and that long before Virgil writ. The British Bards are enough to justify that; we need not wait till the decay of the Roman Empire, witness Lucan, Lib. 3. who writ of times that preceded Virgil.  

Vos quoque qui fortes animas, belloque peremptas  
Laudibus in longum vates dimittit is aevum  
Plurima securi fudistis carmina Bardi.   
But what's this to the Confirmation of his Assertion, that next the Romans we excelled in Poetry? 'Tis not the number of Years, nor Poems that wil●… establish our Excellence, but the Quality; 'tis thei●… Perfection, that must give us the advantage of our Neighbours.  
But to expect Reason, Method, (without which ●…ll is confusion) and Meaning from this Author is ●…n vain, since he tells us in a former Essay he can ●…eep to no Method or Form, and that he is not cut ●…ut for penning any Treatise. But then why, in ●…he Name of dullness, does he fly in the Face of Nature, and spite of her appear in Print, not only as an Author, but Judge, bringing to his Tribunal, those who were qualified with what he ●…xtremly wants, viz. A Genius and Judgement: ●…is Judgement being so weak, that he could not ●…eep Coherence through one only Page. Being ●…hus qualified, no doubt his censure of the admira●…le Shakespeare, must be extraordinary, which 〈◊〉 shall, after I have premised some general Consi●…erations examine.  
To survey the Ancients with an impartial Eye ●…wou'd make one wonder at those extravagan●… En●…miums, and that inexpressible Advantage above ●…e Moderns ' some of our Dogmatic Critics give ●…m, were there not an extraordinary Vanity, in ●…xtolling their Performances and Virtues, because ●…y that means they arrogate to themselves the ●…eputation of understanding them better, than ●…ther Men. This makes Rapine tell us what an ●…iversal Genius Homer was; and that all the ●…rts and Sciences are to be learned from his Works, tho' some others perhaps, not less able to ●…derstand him, can not discover any such Matter, 〈◊〉 the Author of the Dialogues of the Dead, very wittily intimates in the Dialogue betwixt Homer and Aesop. These Gentlemen would cover all the Absurdities of this Poet, with the specious Whim of All●…gory, never thought of by Homer himself. But h●… may thank his Fate for allotting him a time s●… much remote from ours, else they would not b●… fond of him to so unreasonable an excess, since the●… can't allow no excuse for smaller Faults in the●… own Countrymen of a later date, such ill Patriots are these Partial Critics; for I defy Mr. Rymer and all of his Opinion to parallel in Shakespeare, the Wounds, the Hatreds, the Battles, an●… Strifes of the Gods. And he must confess, if h●… be not a sworn Enemy to all Reason, that Homer's Juno is a Character far beneath, and mo●… disproportionable, than that of Desdemona, th●… the first be of the Queen of the Gods, Jove's Sister and his Wife, and the other a Senators, Daughter of Venice, Young Innocent, and Tender. 〈◊〉 Desdemona be too humble for Tragedy, and di●…cover not Elevation of Soul enough for her Bir●… and Fortune: Homer's Juno must be much too lo●… for an Heroic Poem, having no Parallel for Scolding but at Billingsgate. For the furious curtain Lectures of a City Wife, who is supreme Lady 〈◊〉 home, are nothing to hers. This Jupiter finds, whe●… the only Remedy he has left to stop her Mou●… is to threaten to thrash her Divine Jacks, whic●… makes her Son Vulcan something concerned abo●… the Shame 'twill be to have his Goddess Moth●… suffer the Bastinade before the Heavenly Cre●… Where is the Nature? Where the Reason of this 〈◊〉 If the Nobleness of his Thoughts, the Majesty of 〈◊〉 Expression, and Variety of his Numbers made ●…he succeeding Ages so fond of Homer, as to find some Excuse for his failures, in Conduct and Characters; is not Shakespeare more ungenerously dealt with, whose Faults are made to a pretence ●…o deny all his Beauties and Excellence?  
But 'tis not these Instances in the Prince of the Greek Peots, (with many more, both as to the Conduct and Characters) that influence me to ●…ncline to a better Opinion of the Moderns I mean of my own Country) than Mr. Rymer; ●…nd some of the Graver Pedants of the Age; the ●…xcellence I find in Shakespeare himself, commands a ●…uster Veneration; for in his Thoughts and Ex●…ressions he discovers himself Master of a very just Observation of things; so that if he had (which deny) no Learning, his natural parts would suf●…ciently have furnished him with better Ethics, ●…han our Hypercritic allows him. But that which ●…ggravates his Malice is, he extends his censure 〈◊〉 Ben himself, whose skill in Moral Philosophy, ●…e suppose, at least equal to his: But to give ●…he World some Satisfaction, that Shakespear ●…as had as great a Veneration paid his Excellence ●…y Men of unquestioned parts, as this I now ex●…ress for him, I shall give some Account of what have heard from your Mouth, Sir, about the ●…oble Triumph he gained over all the Ancients, ●…y the Judgement of the ablest Critics of that time.  
The Matter of Fact (if my Memory fail me ●…ot) was this, Mr. Hales, of Eton, affirmed that he would show all the Poets of Antiquity, out done by Shakespeare, in all the Topics, an●… common places made use of in Poetry. The Enemies of Shakespeare would by no means yield hi●… so much Excellence; so that it came to a Resolution of a trial of Skill upon that Subject; th●… place agreed on for the Dispute, was Mr. Hales●… Chamber at Eton; a great many Books were sen●… down by the Enemies of this Poet, and on th●… appointed day, my Lord Falkland, Sir John Suc●…ling, and all the Persons of Quality that had W●… and Learning, and interested themselves in th●… Q●…arrel, met there, and upon a thorough Disq●…sition of the point, the Judges chose by agreeme●… out of this Learned and Ingenious Assembly, un●…nimously gave the Preference to Shakespeare And the Greek and Roman Poets were adjudged 〈◊〉 Va●…l at least their Glory in that to the Englis●… Hero. I could wish, Sir, you would give the Public a juster Account of this Affair, in Vindicatio●… of that Poet, I know you extremely esteem, an●… whom none but you excels.  
Shall we therefore still admire Shakespeare wi●… these Learned and Ingenious Gentlemen, or p●… him in a Class below Sternold or Flecknoe, wi●… Mr. Rymer, because he has not come close to th●… Rules Aristotle drew from the Practice of th●… Greek Poets, whom nothing it seems can pleas●… but the Antic Forms and Methods of the Atheni●… Stage, or what comes up, and sticks close to the●… in our Language.  
I can see no Reason why we should be so very fond of imitating them here, without better proofs than the Critical Historiographer has produced. 'Tis certain, the Grecians had not the advantage of us in Physics, or any other part of Philosophy, which with them chief consisted in words; they were a Talkative People; and being fond of the Opinion of Learning, more than the thing itself, as the most speedy way to gain that, stopped their Inquiries on Terms, as is evident from their Sophistry and Dialectic's. There can be no dispute among the Learned, but that we excel them in these Points. Since the time of Des Cartes, when the Dictates of Greece began to be laid aside, what a Progress has been made in the discovery of Nature? and what Absurdities laid open in the School Precepts, and Terms of Aristotle.  
But Ethics is a Study not so abstruse as the search of Natural Causes and Effects; a nice Observation of Mankind will furnish a sensible Man with them; which makes me unable to guess how the Greeks should have so monstrous an advantage over us in this particular, as some would give them, who are so far behind us in things of greater difficulty; but it can't be otherways whilst we make that Age and Nation the Standard of Excellence without regard to the difference of Custom, Age, Climate, etc. But I question not to make it appear hereafter, that we much surpass the Greeks and Latins, at least in Dramatic Poetry. As for Expression (the difference of Language considered) the Merits of which is proportioned to the Idea it presents to the Mind, and for Thought, as well as for Design. And had you, Sir, but given us an Heroic Poem, you had put the Controversy out of doubt as to the Epic too, as your Oedipus (for all the Quantum mutatus, of which another time) your All for Love, and some other of your Plays have in the Dramatic, in the esteem of impartial Judges.  
Had our Critic entertained but common Justice for the Heroes of his Own Country, he would have set Shakespear's Faults in their true Light, and distinguished betwixt his, and the Vices of the Age; for as Rapine (a much juster and more Candid Critic) observes, the Poet often falls into Vices by complying with the Palate of the Age he lives in; and to this may we truly and justly refer a great many of these Faults Shakespeare is guilty of. For, He not having that advantage the Greek Poets had, of a proper Subsistence, or to be provided for at the Public Charge, what Fruit he was to expect of his Labours, was from the Applause of the Audience; so that his chief aim was to please them; who not being so Skilful in Criticisms, as Mr. Rymer, would not be pleased without some Extravagances mingled in (tho' contrary to) the Characters such, and such a Player was to Act. This is the Reason that most of his Tragedies have a mixture of something Comical; the Dalilab, of the Age must be brought in, the Clown, and the Valet jesting with their Betters, if he resolved not to disoblige the Auditors. And I'm assured from very good hands, that the Person that Acted Jago was in much esteem for a Comedian, which made Shakespeare put several words, and expressions into his part (perhaps not so agreeable to his Character) to make the Audience laugh, who had not yet learned to endure to be serious a whole Play. This was the occasion of that particular place so much houted at by our Historiographer Royal,  
Awake, what ho, Brabantio, etc.  
An old black Ram is tupping your white Ewe, etc.  
This Vice of the Age it was that perverted many of his Characters in his other Plays: Nor could it be avoided if he would have his Audience sit the Play out, and receive that Profit, that is the chief End of all Poets. To this same Cause may be attributed all those Quibbles, and playing upon words, so frequent in some part of him, as well as that Language that may seem too rough, and forced to the Ear, up, and down in some of the best of his Plays.  
After all, the Head of his Accusation is, That 'tis not improbable, that Shakespeare was ignorant of the Rules of Aristotle's Poetics; and was imperfect in the three Unities of Time, Place, and Action, which Horace in his Art of Poetry gives no Rules about: for that which I have heard quoted from him, has no relation to the Dramatic Unities,  
Denique sit, quod vis, simplex duntaxat & unum.  
as is evident from what goes before; but to the Coherence, Uniformity, and Equality of any Poem in general—  
— Amphora caepit  
Institui, currente Rota cur urceus exit.  
'Tis only the Conclusion of what he proposes about Seven Verses before,  
Inceptis gravibus, & magna Professis, etc.  
and this of Petronius is a just Interpretation of it in my opinion,  
Praeterea ne sententiae emineant extra corpus orationis expressae sed intecto vestibus colore niteant. That is, it gives only a Rule that all Poems be of a Piece and Equal.  
So that since he could gather no Instructions in this Point from Horace, we may excuse him for transgressing against them: and this defect his greatest Admirers confessed before his Useless piece of ill-natured censure, and could have Pardoned Mr. Rymer, had he gone no farther; But when he Robs him of all Genius, and denies him the Elevation of a Shirley, a Fleckno, or a Jordan, w●… must modestly return his Compliment, and tel●… him, That never a Blackamoor (as he learnedly terms a Negro) in the Western Plantations, b●… must have a better taste of Poetry than himself and that 'tis evident from the Woman Judges whose Judgement, he assures us, seldom errs, b●… their continual Approbation of Othello, Hamlet, etc. he is in the Wrong.  
But should we grant him that Shakespeare wanted Art (tho' Ben Johnson denies it) can he from thence infer he was no Poet? The dispute of which confers most to the forming a Poet, (I mean, a Complete one) Art, or Nature, was never yet agreed on; Horace joins them, Quintilian and some others give it to Nature: But, till this Gentleman, never did any Man yield it wholly to Art; for that all his Arguments both in this or his former Book seem to drive at.  
A nice Observation of Rules, is a Confinement a great Genius cannot bear, which naturally cove●…s Liberty; and tho' the French, whose Genius, as well as Language, is not strong enough to rise to the Majesty of Poetry, are easier reduced within the Discipline of Rules, and have perhaps of late Years, more exactly observed 'em. yet I never yet met with any Englishman, who would prefer their Poetry to ours. All that is great of Humane things, makes a nearer approach to the Eternal Perfection of Greatness, and extends as much as possible its limits toward being Boundless: 'Tis not governed by Common Rules and Methods, but Glories in a Noble Irregularity; and this not only in Writings, but Actions of some Men. Alexander, Caesar, Alcibiades, etc. seemed actuated by other Principles than the common Maxims that govern the Rest of Humane Kind; and in them the greatest Virtues have been mixed with great Vices, as well as the Writings of Shakespeare; yet are they granted Heroes, and so must He be confessed a Poet: The Hero's Race are all like Achilles. Jura negunt, sibi nata.  
But as I do not think that to be a Great Man, one must necessarily be wholly, exempt from Rules, so I must grant, That Virgil, Sophocles, and Yourself are very Great, tho' generally very Regular; But these are Rarities so uncommon, that Nature has produced very few of them, and like the Phoenixes of Honesty, that live up to the Precepts of Morality, aught to have public Statues erected to them. But yet the less perfect ought not to be Robbed of their Merits, because they have defects, especially when the Number of those exceed these, as in Shakespeare, all whose Faults have not been able to frustrate his obtaining the end of All just Poems, Pleasure and Profit. To deny this, would be to fly in the Face of the known experience of so many Years. He has (I say) in most, if not all, of his Plays attained the full end of Poetry Delight, and Profit, by moving Terror and Pity for the Changes of Fortune, which Humane Life is subject to, by giving us a lively and just Image of them (the best Definition of a Play) for the Motion of these Passions afford us Pleasure, and their Purgation Profit. Besides, there are few or none of those many he has writ, but have their Just Moral, not only of more general Use and Advantage, but also more naturally the Effect of them, than that of the Oedipus of Sophocles, as may be soon perceived by any one that will give himself the trouble of a little Thought, and which will in some measure appear from what I have to say in the particular Defence I shall now make of Othello.  
To begin with the Fable (as our Critic has done) I must tell him, he has as falsely, as ridiculously represented it, which I shall endeavour to put in a Juster light.  
Othello a Noble Moor, or Negro, that had by long Services, and brave Acts established himself in the Opinion of the Senate of Venice, wins the Affections of. Desdemona, Daughter to Brabantio one of the Senators, by the moving account he gives of the imminent Dangers he had past, and hazards ●…e had ventured through, a belief of which his known Virtue confirmed, and unknown to her Father Marries her, and carries her (with the leave of the Senate) with him to Cyprus, his Province. He makes Cassio his Lieutenant, tho' Jago, had solicited it by his Friends for himself, which Refusal joined with a jealousy, that Othello had had to do with his Wife, makes him contrive the destruction of Cassio, and the Moor, to gratify his Revenge, and Ambition. But having no way to revenge himself sufficiently on the Moor, from whom he supposed he had received a double Wrong, proportionable to the injury, but this, he draws him with a great deal of Cunning into a Jealousy of his Wife, and that by a chain of Circumstances contrived to that purpose, and urged with all the taking insinuations imaginable; particularly by a Handkerchief, he had conveyed to Cassio (which Jagoes Wife stole from Desdemona) to convince the Moor his Wife was too familiar with him, having parted with such a favour to him, which she had on her Marriage received from Othello, with the strictest charge of preserving, it being a Gift of his Mother of Curious Work, and secret Virtue. Othello, by these means, won to a beli●… of his own Infamy, resolves the Murder of those, he concluded guilty, viz. Cassio, and his Wife; Jago officiously undertakes, the dispatching of Cassio, having got his Commission already, but is disappointed of his design, employing one Roderigo to that purpose, who had followed him from Venice, in hopes by his means to enjoy Desdemona, as Jago had promised him. But the Moor effectually puts his Revenge in Execution on his Wife, which is no sooner ●…ne, but he's convinced of his Error, and in remorse kills himself, whilst Jago, the Cause of all this Villainy, having slain his Wife for discovering it, is born away to a more ignominious Punishment, as more proportioned to his Villainies.  
The Fable to be perfect must be Admirable and Probable, and as it approaches those two, 'tis more or less perfect in its kind. Admirable, is what is uncommon, and extraordinary. Probable, is what is agreeable to common Opinion. This must be ●…e Test of this Fable of Othello; but then we must not take it, as given us by our Drolling Critic, who very truly confesseth in his former Book, (and in that he is no Changeling) he must be merry out of Season, as he always is; but as I have laid it down, else we should do Shakespeare a great deal of Injustice.  
I suppose none will deny that it is Admirable: that is, composed of Incidents that happen not every day, his Antagonist confesses as much; there is therefore nothing but the Probability of it attaqu'd by him, which I question not either wholly to prove, or at least to set it on the same bottom with the best of Sophocles, that of his Oedipus.  
First, to see whether he have sinned against Probability, let us consider what our Caviller objects, all which may be reduced to two Points. First, That 'tis not probable that the Senate of Venice (tho' it usually employ Strangers) should employ a Moor against the Turk: neither is it in the next place probable, that Desdemona should be in Love with him. On this turns all the Accusation, this is the very Head of his offending.  
All the Reason he gives, or rather implies, for the first Improbability is, That 'tis not likely the State of Venice, would employ a Moor, (taking him for a Mahometan) against the Turk, because of the mutual Bond of Religion. He, indeed says not so, but takes it for granted that Othello must be rather for the Turkish interest than the Venetian, because a Moor. But, I think (nor does he oppose it with any reason) the Character of the Venetian State being to employ Strangers in their Wars, it gives sufficient ground to our Poet, to suppose a Moor employed by 'em as well as a Germane; that is a Christian Moor, as Othello is represented by our Poet, for from such a Moor, there could be no just fear of treachery in favour of the Mahometans. He tells us—  
I fetch my Life and Being from Men of Royal Siege.  
Supposing him therefore the Son or Nephew of the Emperor of Monomotopa, Aethiopia or Congo, forced to leave his Country for Religion, or any other occasion, coming to Europe by the convenience of the Portugueze Ships, might after several Fortunes, serve first as a Volunteer till he had signalised himself, and proved himself worthy of Command; part of this may very reasonably be drawn from what the Poet makes him say. Now upon this Supposition, it appears more rational, and probable, the Venetians should employ a Stranger, who wholly depended on themselves, and whose Country was too remote, to influence him to their prejudice, than other Strangers, whose Princes may in some m●…ure direct their Actions for their own Advantage. But that Othello is supposed to be a Christian is evident from the Second Act, and from these words of Jago;— And then for her to Win the Moor, were't to renounce his Baptism, etc. Why therefore an African Christian may not by the Venetians be supposed to be as zealous against the Turks, as an European Christian, I cannot imagine. So that this Bustle of Littora littoribus Contraria, etc. is only an inconsiderate Amusement, to show how little the Gentleman was troubled with thought when he wrote it.  
No more to the purpose, is that Heat he expresses against Shakspears giving a Name to his Moor, though Cinthio did not, though History did not warrant it. For this can be no more objected to our Poet, than the perverting the Character of Dido, and confounding the Chronology to bring her to the time of Aeneas, is to Virgil; the first as 'tis not mentioned in History, so it does not contradict it; but the last is a plain opposition to express History, and Chronology. If Virgil be allowed his Reason for doing that, Shakespeare is not to seek for one for what he has done. 'Twas necessary to give his Moor a place of some Figure in the World, to give him the greater Authority, and to make his Actions the more Considerable, and what place more likely to fix on, than Venice, where Strangers are admitted to the highest Commands in Military Affairs.  
'Tis granted, a Negro here does seldom rise above a Trumpeter, nor often perhaps higher at Venice. But then that proceeds f●…om the Vice of Mankind, which is the Poet's Duty a●… he informs us, to correct, and to represent things as they should be, not as they are. Now 'tis certain, there is no reason in the nature of things, why a Negro of equal Birth and Merit, should not be on an●… equal bottom, with a Germane, Hollander, Frenchman, etc. The Poet, therefore aught to do ●…stice to Nations, as well as Persons, and set them to rights, which the common course of things confounds. The same reason stands in force for this, as for punishing the Wicked, and making the Virtuous fortunate, which as Rapine, and all the Critics agree, the Poet, aught to do, though it generally happens otherways. The Poet has therefore well chosen a polite People, to cast off this customary Barbarity, of confining Nations, without regard to their Virtue, and Merits, to slavery, and contempt for the mere Accident of their Complexion.  
I hope I have brought by this time as convincing proofs for the probability in this particular, as Mr. Rymer has against it, if I have not wholly gained my Point. Now therefore I shall proceed to the probability of Desdemona's Love for the Moor, which I think is something more evident against him.  
Whatever he aims at in his inconsistent Ramble against this, may be reduced to the Person and the Manner. Against the Person he quotes you two Verses out of Horace, that have no more reference to this, than— in the Beginning God made the Heaven and the Earth, has to the proof of the Jus Divinum of lay Bishops, the Verses are these,  
Sed non ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut  
S●…rpentes avibus geminentur, tiegribus agni.  
unless he can prove that the Colour of a Man altars his Species, and turns him into a Beast or Devil. 'Tis such a vulgar Error, so criminal a fondness of ourselves, to allow nothing of Humanity to any but our own Acquaintance of the fairer hue; that I wonder a Man, that pretends to be at all removed from the very dregs of the thoughtless Mob, should espouse it in so public a manner a Critic too, who puts the Poet: in mind of correcting the common corruptions of Custom. Any Man that has conversed with the best Travels, or read any thing of the History of those parts, on the continent of Africa, discovered by the Portugueze, must be so far from robbing the Negroes of some Countries there of Humanity, that they must grant them not only greater Heroes, nicer observers of Honour, and and all the Moral Virtues that distinguished the old Romans, but also much better Christians (where Christianity is professed) than we of Europe generally are. They move by a nobler Principle, more open, free and generous, and not such slaves to sordid Interest.  
After all this, Othello being of Royal Blood, and a Christian, where is the disparity of the Match? If either side is advanced, 'tis Desdemona. And why must this Prince though a Christian, and of known and experienced Virtue, Courage, and Conduct, be made such a Monster, that the Venetian Lady can't love him without perverting Nature? Experience tells us, that there's nothing more common than Marches of this kind, where the Whites, and Blacks cohabit, as in both the Indies: and Even here at home, Ladies that have not wanted white Adorers, have indulged their Amorous Dalliances, with their Sable Lovers, without any of Othellos' Qualifications, which is proof enough, that Nature and Custom, have not put any such unpassable bar betwixt Creatures of the same kind, because of different colours, which I hope will remove the improbability of the Person, especially when the powerful Auxilaries of extraordinary Merit and Virtues come to plead with a generous Mind.  
The probability of the Person being thus confirmed, I shall now consider that of the Manner of his obtaining her Love. To this end we must still keep in mind the known and experienced Virtue of the Moor which gave Credit, and Authority to what he said; and then we may easily suppose the story of his Fortunes, and Dangers, would make an impression of Pity, and admiration at least on the bosom of a Woman, of a noble and generous Nature. No Man of any generous Principle, but must be touched at suffering Virtue, and value the noble sufferer, whose Courage and Bravery, bears him through uncommon Trials and extraordinary Dangers. Nor would it have less force on a Woman of any principle of Honour and tenderness; she must be moved and pleased with the Narration, she must admire his constant Virtue, and Admiration is the first step to Love, which will easily gain upon those who have once entertained it.  
Dido in Virgil was won by the Trojan stranger she never saw before, by the relation of his fortunes and Escapes; and some particulars of the Narration of Aeneas, carries full as ridiculous and absurd a Face as any thing, Othello says; the most trifling of which is,  
And of the Cannibals that each other eat  
the Anthropophagis, and Men whose Heads  
do grow beneath their Shoulders.  
for all the rest is admirably fine, though our wonderful Critic can't relish it, there is a moving Beauty in each Line, the words are well chosen, and the Image they give great, and Poetical; what an Image does Deserts Idle give? that very Epithet is a perfect Hypotyposis, and seems to plac●… me in the midst of one, where all the active hurry of the World is lost; but all that I can say, will not reach the excellence of that Epithet so many properties of such a place meet in it. But as for the Cannibals, etc. and the Men whose Heads grow beneath their Shoulders. I have heard it condemned by Men whose taste I generally approve, yet must they give me leave to descent from them here, and permit me either wholly to justify Shakespeare, even here, or at least to put him on an equal bottom with Virgil, in his most beautiful part. For the fault lies either in the Improbability of those things, or their Impertinence to the business in Hand. First Probability we know is built on common Opinion; but 'tis certain the Cannibals have been generally believed, and that with very good grounds of Truth; so that there can be no doubt of the probability of that. Next for the Men whose Heads grow beneath their Shoulders, though that is not established on so good a Foundation as Truth; yet the general Traditionary belief of it in those days, is sufficient to give it a poetical probability. As this was not Improbable, so neither was it Impertinent; for 'tis certain, that whatever contributed to the raising her Idea of his Dangers and Escapes, must conduce to his aim, but to fall into the Hands of those, whom not only the fury of War, but that of Custom makes Cruel, heightens the danger, and by consequence the Concern, especially in a young Lady possessed with the legend of the Nursery, whence she must have amazing Ideas of the Danger of the brave Moor from them.  
But at worst, Shakespeare is on as good a bottom as Virgil, in this particular; the Narrative of Aeneas, that won the Heart of Dido, has many things full as trifling and absurd as this, if not far more? For is there not as much likelihood that there should be a People that have their Heads grow beneath their Shoulders, as the Race of the Cyclops, that have but one Eye, just beneath their Foreheads, and that Polyphemus his Eye was as big as a Grecian Shield, or the Sun; or that he could wade through the Sea, without being up to his middle. Can there be invented any thing so unnatural; as the Harpies in the third Book, who had the Faces of Virgins, Wings, Feathers, etc. Of Birds, and a human Voice, as is evident from the infaelix vates, that foretold 'em they should not build their destined City, till they had eaten their Tables, or Trenchers, (which by the way was a trivial and ridilous sort of a pun, as the event showed, when julus found out the Jest,) nor is Scylla a more natural mixture. But let's hear the description of all three, from Virgil himself, lest I be thought to injure his Memory, first of the Harpies in the Strophades.  

Virginei volucrum vultus, faedissima ventris,  
Proluvies, uncoeque Manus, & pallida semper  
Ora fame.—   
The beginning of Horace's Art of Poetry, Humano Capiti, etc. seems a Copy of this; nor is Scylla a more Homogeneous Composition.—  

At Scyllam caecis cohibet spelunca latebris  
Ora exsertantem, & naves in saxa trabentem:  
Prima hominis facies, & pulchro pectore virgo  
Pube tenus, postrema immani Corpore pri●…is  
Delphinum Caudas utero commissa luporum.   
Then for the Cyclops Polyphemus, the Grecian he takes aboard, tells him his Eye is  
Argolici clypei, aut Phaebeae lampadis Instar.  
and a little after lest this shou'dbe taken'as an hyperbolical magnifying it by the terror of the fearful Greek; in his own Person, he says of him  
— Graditurque per aequ●…r.  
Jam medium, 〈◊〉 fluctus latera ardu●… tinxit.  
The Absurdities in Homer are much more numerous than those in Virgil. (I mean those that must pass for such, if this in Shakespeare is so,) But because they relate not to this particular, I shall say nothing of them here. All these I have remarked in the Narration of Aeneas, hindered not, but that it won the Heart of Dido, though firmly bend against a second Amour,  
jile meos primus, qui me sibi junxit amores  
Abstulit: ille habeat secum, serv●…que sepulchro.  
especially one that was not like to be so very Honourable. Desdemona had no such tye, to steel her He●… against Othello's Tong●…e, no n●…●…ason to curb that Passion she ne'er felt before, when the prevailing Virtue of the Moor, att●… her Heart; well may we therefore believe Desdemona should yield to the same force, that conquered Dido, with all her Resolutions and Engagements, to the memory of 〈◊〉. Hear how she cries out to her Sister Ann,  

Quis nov●…s hic nostris successit sedibus hospes  
Quem sese ore ●…erens? Quam forti pectore & Armis?  
Credo equidem, nec vana sides, genus esse deorum.  
Dig●…neres animo●… timor arguit, heu quibus ille  
●…actatur fatis, quae bella exhausta canebat.   
and at the beginning of this fourth Book,  
— Haerent infixi pectore Vultus  
Verbaque—  
and the latter end of the first Book confirms this  
Multa super P●…iamo Rogitans super Hectore multa.  
could Aeneas his Story not, one jot more moving or probable make a mere stranger pass for a God, with the Carthaginian Queen at first hearing; and must it be incredible, that the same shall not make Othello pass for so much as a Man? The Parallel is so exact, that I am apt to think, Shakespeare took the Copy from Virgil. Nor can it justly be urged, that these things were believed by the Romans, since they were so far from believing these trifles, that Seneca in his Epistles, laughs at those Fables, that constituted their Hell, which was of much greater consequence. But supposing they were believed, the same will hold good for Shakespeare, in this particular, I vindicate him in: for 'tis built on as vulgar and general a tradition, as these Fables of old were, so that the advantage is equal betwixt these two great Poets in this particular.  
By this time, I hope our Drolling Caviller, will grant it no such monstrous absurdity for the Doge to say,  
I think this Tale would win my Daughter too.  
since without doubt, that short summing up of what was only the subject of his tale to Desdemona, with only the supposition of the particulars, must move any generous Breast.  
But should all I have said fall of clearing the Probability of the Fable from Mr. Rymers Objections, yet ought not that to rob Shakespeare of his due Character of being a Poet, and a great Genius: unless he will for the same reason deny those prerogatives to Homer, and Sophocles. The former has often lost the Probable, in the Admirable, as any Book of the Iliads and Odysseys will prove; and the latter, as Rapine justly observes, has not kept to probability, even in his best performance, I mean in his Oedipus Tyrannus; for (as Rapine has it) Oedipus ought not to have been ignorant of the assassinate of Laius, the ignorance he's in of the Murder, which makes all the Beauty of the intrigue, is not probable; and if a Man would play the Droll with this Fable of Oedipus, it would furnish full as ridiculous a Comment, as witty Mr. Rymer has done from this of Othello; and sure I can't err in imitating so great a Critic.  
First, then let all Men before they defend themselves on the Highway, think well of what they do, lest not being Mathematically sure he's at home, he kill his own Father, which perhaps is something dangerous in this Age, where such boon Blades frequent the Road, and such good-natured Ladies have the disposing of our fate.  
Next, let ev'ry Younger Brother, that ventures to ride in another Man's Boots, be very circumspect, lest he marries his own Mother.  
Thirdly and Lastly, This may be a caution to the few Fools that dote on Virtue, that they trustto a rotten Reed that will be of little use to 'em, since all is whirled about by an unavoidable necessity.  
These are much more the consequence of this Fable of Oedipus, than those wondrous Truths, he draws from that of Othello. Nay, the moral Sophocles concludes his Oedipus with, will serve as justly for Othello, viz. That no Man can be called happy before his Death. But the whole Fable of Oedipus, tho' so much admired, is so very singular and improbable, that 'tis scarce possible, it ever could have happened; on the other hand, the fatal Jealousy of Othello, and the Revenge of Jago, are the natural Consequences of our ungoverned Passions, which by a prospect of such Tragical effects of their being indulged, may be the better regulated and governed by us. So that tho' Othello ends not so formally with a moral Sentence, as Oedipus does, yet it sets out one of much greater Value. If it be a fault in Shakespeare, that it end not with such a sentence, Sophocles is guilty of no less in his Philoctetes, which not only concludes without any Moral, but is also incapable of being reduced to any, at least of any moment. Whereas the Morals of Hamlet, Macheth, and most of Shakespear's Plays, prove a lesson of mightier consequence than any in Sophocles, except the Electr●…, viz. that Usurpation, tho' it thrive a while, will at last be punished, etc. Besides the worst, and most irregular of Shakespear's Plays, contains two or three such Fables, as that of Philoctetes, which answers not one of the ends of Poetry; for it neither pleases or profits, it moves neither Terror nor Compassion, containing only a dry account, without any variety of the persuasions of Pyrrhus, to get Philoctetes to go with him to Troy with the Arrows of Hercules; who, after he had by Treachery gained 'em, as foolishly restores 'em to him again, and Troy might have stood long enough, if Hercules had not come from the Gods, to bend the stubborn Fool, that rather chose to be miserable himself; with his endless 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and his Complaints of his Foot, something like the Tumours, Chilblains, Carnosities, etc. raked together by Mr. Rymer. And all that can be learned from this Play of Sophocles is,  
First, That we never send Boys of our Errand, unless we have a God at command to make up the business he has spoiled; if we mean our business shall be thoroughly done, and not the fate of a Nation sacrificed to a pain in the Foot.  
Secondly, Not to trust Strangers we never saw before, for a fair Tale, with our Safety and Treasure, without a Mathematical Demonstration of their Fidelity and Trust.  
Lastly, That all Men with fore Feet should not despair of a Cure.  
But I have dwelled so long on the Fable, that I have not time enough to discuss the other parts, as the Characters, Thoughts, and Expressions, so fully as I ought; especially, the Thought and Expression, for 'twould require a Volumn near as ●…ig as Shakespeare, to set them off according to their worth; with all the proofs from Grammar or Rhetoric of their Truth and Justness. The Fable is looked upon by Rapine, and after him by our Gl●…ner of Criticisms, as the Soul of the Play, and therefore I may be excused for my prolixity in its defence, and allowed a little more time for a full Justification of the other parts of Shakespeare, attaqu'd with less Reason and Justice. Mr. Rymer has taken above ten Year to digest his Accusations, and therefor●… it can't in reason be thought I should not in half so many days be able to perform all the work he has cut out: Nor can I proceed to a particular consideration of all the Characters of this Play at this time. Desdemona I think is the most faulty: but since our Antagonist will have Jago, the most intolerable, I shall confine myself to that.  
What I have said in the beginning of my Vindication of Shakespeare, must here be recollected on Jago's behalf; besides which, I have some other considerations to offer, which I hope will lighten the insupportable load of Contempt, and Ridicule cast on him by our Caviller.  
First, Therefore in our Judgement of Jago, we must follow the Rule of Horace, so much stood upon by Mr. Rymer.  
Intererit multum  
Cholcus an A●…yrius, Theb●… nutritus, an Argis.  
We are not only to respect the profession of the Man in our Judgement of the Character, but we must also have an Eye to his Nation, the Country he was born in, and the prevailing temper of the People, with their National Vices; by this Rule we shall find Jago, an Italian; by Nature Selfish, Jealous, Reserved, Revengeful and Proud, nor can I see any reason to suppose his Military Profession should to powerfully influence him to purge away all these Qualities, and establish contrary in their room. Nor can I believe the quotation from Horace, which our Caviller produces, can justly be extended to all degrees of Soldiers.  

It runs thus in Horace.  
—— Honoratum si forte reponis Achillem  
Impig●…r, Jr●…cundus, inex●…rabilu, Acer,  
Jura neget sib●… Nata, nibil non arrog●…t armis.   
'Tis plain from what goes before, and what follows after that Horace meant not this, at least for a general Character of all Soldiers, but only as a direction for the drawing Achilles, or such a Hero; for h●…'s enumerating the Manners, of those public Characters, that were generally made use of by the Romans in their Tragedies, for this follows.  
Sat Medea ferox invictaque Flebilis Ino,  
Perfidus Ixion, Jo vaga, trist●… Orestes.  
And a few Lines before he is giving the Characters of several Professions and Ages, from whence he proceeds to these particular Characters of Achilles, Ino, Medea, etc. drawn from the known Stories of them, and this is confirmed by what he joins to this;  
Siquid inexpertum scenae committis, etc.  
That is, if you take known Persons, that have for so many Ages trod the Stage, this must be their Character; but if you bring some new person on it, that was never there before, then take care that your Persons preserve that Character you give 'em at first, etc.  
I know Rapine gives a Soldier these qualities; Fierce, Insolent, Surly, Inconstant, which partly are the effects of their manner of Life, but I can't conceive these to be opposite to those other in Jago. The Characters or Manners, as the same Rapine observes, are to be drawn from Experience; and that tells us, that they differ in Soldiers according to their Nature and Discipline; that also tells us that the Camp is not free from Designs, Su●…plantings, and all the effects of the most criminal of Passions, and this indeed is evident from the Draught Homer gives us of the Grecian Camp, where Love was not judged so contrary to the Character of a General, as Mr. Rymer would have it thought: Achilles and Agamemnon having both their admired Captives. And let Mr. Rymer say what he please, I can prove that 'twas the Love of 〈◊〉, that troubled Achilles, and confirmed his anger, as well as the mere 〈◊〉 of having his prize taken from him, but of that in another place. In short, the 〈◊〉 of Homer differs as much from the Soldiers of Mr. Rymers acquaintance, as Jago does; nor is he the only Soldier that could dissemble. Sinon in Virgil and Neoptolemus in Sophocles, are as guilty of it as he.  
But granting that Jago's Character is defective something in the Manners, Homer and Sophocles have been guilty (the first much more, the other not much less) of the same: what are the Wounds, Scuffles, Passions, Adulteries, etc. Of the Gods and Goddesses, obvious to the meanest Capacity, and beyond all dispute? Is not the Character of Oedipus Coloneut of Sophocles, as Rapine remarks, extremely unproportionable to Oedipus Tyrannus? And tho' Mr. Rymer is so severe, to deny that the Character of Jago is that of a Soldier, because so different from his Military Acquaintance; yet I'm confident h●… would take it extremely amiss, If I should deny him to be a Critic, because so contrary to all the Critics that I have met with, playing the merry Droll, instead of giving serious and solid Reasons for what he advances.  
The other Characters of this Play I must deser till another time, as well as a thorough defence of his Thoughts and Expression, both which he wholly denies him; and with an extravagantly wonderful Assurance publicly tells us; that the Neighing of a Horse has more Humanity, (for that is his Wittycism) than the Tragical Flights of Shakespeare.  
Mr. Rymer's Friend Rapine tells us, that the Thoughts are the expression of the Manners, as Words are of Thoughts, that is the natural result of the Manners, which being already cleared from his Accusations, the vindication of the Thoughts are included in them, as well as their Condemnation in his Charge against the other, for he disda●…ns to be particular in his proof. Then for the Expressions of Shakespeare, none but Mr. Rymer can find fault with 'em. The excellence of expression consists in this, that it bear a proportion to the Things; that is, that it give us a full Idea of 'em; that it be apt, clear, natural, splendid, and numerous. There is scarce a serious part of Shakespeare, but has all these qualities in the Expression.  
To omit several Scenes in Hamlet, particularly that betwixt him, and his Father's Ghost: I'll only instance in two or three Speeches, that are, and have been on the Stage in our Memory, which may give some sample of the Poetry, Thought, and Expression of Shakespeare. The first is in the Midsummer Night's Dream, now acted under the name of the Fairy Queen. Act the Third, T●…nia speaks thus,  Titan: 
Be kind and courteous to this Gentleman.  
Hop in his Walks, and Gambol in his Eyes,  
Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberrys,  
With purple Grapes, green Figgs and Mulberrys,  
The Honey Baggs steal from the Humble Bees;  
And for Night Tapers crop their waxed Thighs,  
And light them at the fiery Glow-worm's Eyes;  
To have my Love to Bed and to Arise.  
And pluck the Wings from painted Butterflies,  
To fan the Moon Beams from his sleeping Eyes.  
Nod to him Elves, and do him Courtesies.  
is not this extremely poetical and fine? The next I shall take from the 2d. Scene of Richard the Second.  York. 
Then as I said the Duke (great Bullingrbook)  
Mounted upon a hot and fiery Steed,  
Which his aspiring Rider seemed to know,  
With slow but stately Grace kept on his course  
While all Tongues cried God save the Bullingbrook.  
You would have thought the very Windows spoke,  
So many greedy looks of Young and old,  
Through Casements darted their desiring Eyes  
Upon his Visage, and that all the Walls  
With painted Imagery had said at once,  
Jesus preserve thee, welcome Bullingbrook.  
Whilst He, from one side to the other turning,  
Bareheaded lower, than his proud Steeds Neck  
Bespeak them thus; I thank ye Countrymen.  
And th●… still do●…g thus he passed along,  Dutches. 
Alas! Poor Richard where rides he the while?  York. 
As in a Theatre the Eyes of Men,  
After a well graced Actor leaves the Stage  
Are idly bend on him that enters next  
Thinking his pra●…lo to be 〈◊〉  
Even so, or with much 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 men's Eyes,  
Did scowl on Richard: No Man cried God save  
No joyful Tongue gave Him his welcome home. (him.  
But Dust was thrown upon his Sacred Head  
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off  
His Face still combating with Tears and Smiles,  
(The Badges of Grief and Patience)  
That had not God (for some strong purpose) steeled  
The Hearts of Men, they must perforce have melted,  
And Barbarism itself have pitied him.  
Are not here all the Beauties of Thought, joined with all those of expression? is it possible any thing that has but the least Humanity, should be dull enough not to relish, not to be moved, nay trans●…orted with this? I must confess, it has fired me, so that I think our Critic better deserves the Arraignment Tib●…rius gave the Poet, for ill representing Agamemnon, whose Character at best, was but a Child of Fancy, and therefore subject to the Poets Will, but to Blaspheme such a visible Excellence, Merits the highest contempt, if not a greater Punishment.  
Shakespears Numbers carry such an Harmonious Majesty, that what Rapine and some other Critics say of Homer, is justly his due; they give a noble Beauty to the meanest things. 'Tis true, the Words he sometimes uses, by their absol●…teness renders some of his Expressions a little dark, but then we must remember the great alteration our Language has undergone since his time; but examine well the sense of his Words, you'll seldom find him guilty of Bombast, (tho' laid to his charge by Mr. Rymer,) that is Words and Thoughts ill matched. On the contrary, they are generally so well sorted, that they present us with so lively and sensible an Image of what they import, that it fixes itself in our Minds, with an extreme satisfaction; and the more we view it, the more it gains upon us.  
I shall hereafter step into the Scenes with Mr. Rymer, and also examine his Narrations, Deliberations, Didactic and Pathetic Discourses, which are all that are made use of in Tragedy, in which if he sometimes err, he has yet performed well; and amidst his faults you shall find some thoughts of a great Genius. I shall only now observe en passant, in defence of that Scene, betwixt Jago and Othello, that we ought not to be imposed on by positive assertions, or think because Mr. Rymer tells us so, that half words, and ambiguous Reflections, do not naturally work up Jealousy, or that 'tis not natural, for Othello to catch at ev'ry blown surmise. These Assertions of our Critic show him to be very ignorant of the very nature of this Passion, for as 'tis reduced to the primitive Desire by the Moralists, so 'tis thus by them defined,  
Jealousy is a fear of losing a good we very much value and esteem, arising from the least causes of Suspicion. now 'tis evident even from the trifling, and false Objections of his enemies that Shakespeare had this very notion of this passion. For this reason 'tis, he makes Othello swallow the very first bait laid by Jago for him. Cassio is found with Desdemona, and on Othello's approach, consciously retires, which tho' he did to avoid his Anger not Jealousy; yet Jago improves the opportunity to his purpose, with an— I like not that; then to awake the Moors Jealousy by degrees, he takes occasion from Cassio's departure to question him— did Cassio when you wooed my Lady know of your Love? Which he pursues with half-words, and ambiguous Reflections, that plainly imply more than they barely express, in which he discovered, fear to speak out what he desired Othello should know, the natural consequence of which is the touching a jealous Nature, with curiosity in a thing, that so nearly related to his Happiness. ev'ry word roused some surmrize; and as Ovid observes, cuncta 〈◊〉 Amantes, Lovers fear any Appearance. But more of this hereafter. In the in the mean while I'm pretty confident, ev'ry Mans own Sense will supply my defect of a particular defence of the working up of Othello's passion of Jealousy.  
And now Sir, 'tis time to turn my Thoughts from a defence of Shakespeare, to an excuse of my own Transgression, in addressing this Essay to you without ask your Leave. I'm not for ask pardon for an Offence, before I have committed it, and then I am willing if possible, to extenuate it from all its heightening Circumstances; and Sir, I hope I have enough to say for myself in committing this.  
First, I knew your Nature so well, that tho' no Name, could have given more Authority to my defence of Shakespeare; yet would you never have consented to the manner I thought myself obliged to treat his accuser in; for tho' he has had no regard to the public Friendship you have expressed for him; yet I know you have not resented the grossness of his public abuse of you, with indignation enough to permit me to deal with him in the same manner; for what was said of a great Lord, is fully as true of you, viz. that you are  
The best natured Man, with the worstnatured Muse,  
for tho' there is nothing so strong and so cutting as your Satire; yet is there nothing ●…o easy and so affable as your Temper and Conversation. Pardon me, I will speak what I know of you, and let my Enemies make the best on't, whose Malice I value not, if I can but prevail with you to forgive this boldness   

The Ingenious and Honourable Theocrine to Theopompus; showing Her the faithfullest of Lovers, and most Pious of Children.  
ALL your Letters are at last arrived safe, tho' it happened with them, as in a great many other things: what should a came first, came last, by which I'm sorry to find, that one who is to judge of Souls, knows no better how to judge of Merit; else whatever your request had been, it had been granted. I wish all that can serve the generous Theopompus, had my sense of his deserts, than should the Friend of my dear Poliarchus be raised, as far above those self Interest'd Wretches, as his Soul now is, and Generosity was above theirs. For most of the sordid World, neither know how to reward the living, nor how to do justice to the dead; but these are crimes unknown to all that were inspired with the Friendship for our dear Poliarchus.  
There are few of the Troubles that attend us in this Life, but when we seriously examine their Cause, we shall find we ourselves in one kind or other, have in some degree contributed to 'em. For who can be of a generous Temper, and not bear a part with the Afflicted? this has (as it it does with all that are good) made you sensible of my sufferings, which has by an unforeseen Consequence brought the trouble of many impertinent Letters on yourself; for 'tis impossible to suffer you ever to give over that pleasing Melancholy Subject you so ingeniously entertain me with. The Death of my Poliarchus is as lasting in my Memory as I am: and as I am the most unfortunate of Women by his loss, so can all other Afflictions be but like drops of Water into the abyss of the Sea: Yet have I met lately with an additional Grief, that bears a much greater proportion. That dear Mother I have been in care for, is now taken from me to augment the number of the blessed above; my tender Love, and grateful Duty, was such for my unequalled Parent, that had I not known how to live after the Loss, and Affliction you saw me in, I could scarce have supported this; but That has made me know that there is a vast difference betwixt Tears shed for those whom Death chooses, and Those who make choice of Death, rather than live without what they too much valued. This vast conflux of misfortunes, gives me a greater desire to be assured what knowledge my departed Friends will have of me at our meeting in their blessed abode, for since I've committed the sacred Memory of Poliarchus to your care, (which whilst I live, can never die.) I am eternally entertaining all, I can get to listen, with my sad Story; bu●… you can make it from age to age endure. Time the certain cure, of all other ills can never lessen mine, so that I often resolve to seek out a solitude, where if Reason cannot overcome my Grief, Grief may overcome me, and make my wretched days short as I wish 'em, and my unhappy state requires.  
I am extremely sensible of your generous compassion, and must tell you that when I first conversed in this kind with the ingenious Theopompus, my Esteem could then be grounded on no other score, but what great value he had for what deserved Love and Esteem from all the World, my best and dearest Poliarchus: But now you have engaged me the way that most prevails with Humane Nature, by a Real Sense of my Pain. That is so generous a piece of good Nature, that 'tis to be admired wherever 'tis found; and in return, I would if I could forbear tormenting you any more with my Grief. But Ah! How can I cease my complaints to one, who so tenderly apprehends 'em, and so excellently applies the Cordial of unequalled Advices. This makes you often troubled with my Melancholy Life; for I declare I had rather read your obliging Expressions for our dead Friend, than all the finest things the greatest of Mankind can say on any other Subject, but not to tyre you all at once; I shall here conclude, that I am  
your Friend, and Servant. Theocrine.   

To ACME, before I had seen her.  
I Ought not in Prudence (Madam) to let you know the unreasonable extent of your Charms, for fear it destroy the Happiness I aim at in your Pity; Cruelty and Pride being generally the effect of so Unlimited a Power. Yet, since you cannot pity, without knowing the Sufferer, I must inform you, Divine Maid, that I have increased the number of your Slaves, without so much as the pleasure of seeing you for all the Sighs you have cost me.  
Love indeed is an Offering that aught to be laid on the soft Altars of Beauty; But, Madam, sure never was by any, but myself, on that of an Unknown Deity. We keep the Bleeding Victims of our Hearts, as long as we can, and only yield 'em up to the Irresistible Force of the present Fair One.  
This, Madam, is the common Condition of Lovers; but as my Passion has an extraordinary Object in you, so have your Beauties an uncommon Influence on me: for Charmed by I know not what Divine Witchery, I Sacrifice my poor Heart to your very Name, without putting you to the expense of one killing Look, to oblige me to't; Report has often engaged the Curiosity, but never till now won the Affections.  
The first mention of you inspired me with all the tender Thoughts of Love; and being obliged to personate the Lover in Print, I had Recourse to the Divine Idea, I had formed of you, Madam, to qualify me for it; you were the only Heavenly Muse that I invoked, which abundantly furnished me with all the Transporting Ruptures of Love. But alas! Madam, while I too much gave way to Imagination, it carried me to a View of those Joys, none but you can impart, at left too charming fair one, so much justice is due to the most uncommon of Lovers, as to permit him the Blessing of your Conversion.  
Ah! Madam, excel the rest of your Sex in Perfections of Mind, as much as you do in those of Body, and let not Pride and Cr●…y levelly you with 'em; like a lawful Prince maintain the Gloro of your Empire, by the happiness of your Vassals, and be not like a Tyrant, proud of their Destruction, at least permit the address of  
the greatest of Slaves, Septimuis.   

To ACME, after I had seen her.  
WHat ever Doubts you were pleased to make of my passion before I saw you, Madam, because so uncommon; yet since I have now seen you, I hope you can no longer suspect the Reality of my love, for sure you must know 'tis impossible to behold that Face with an unwounded Heart. 'Twas not at least possible for me (who came preingaged with strong desires) to see you, without the extremity of Love.  
I sighed and languished for you before, without the pleasure of feasting my greedy Eyes with the delicious banquet of your Looks. How often did I envy those your Eyes made slaves, whilst I fell a victim to your very Name, without a sight of that Heaven I died for? How often have I said,  

How blest, how more than happy must be Prove  
Who from her looks drinks in full draughts of Love,  
For after Pain he meets with present Joys;  
With a too envied Fate, dissolves and Dies,  
In the vast Beatific Vision of her Eyes.   
these were my thoughts then Madam, and Imagination fell short of Reality; for I would not for a thousand greater torments, than the vast increase of my passion has brought me, have been without that too too fleeting pleasure of seeing you last Sunday. 'Tis true, that was not sufficient to calm all my Griefs and Sighs. An empty view of Heaven, was not the utmost bounds of my Longing: and Love took it only as an earnest of greater Satisfaction, and now makes use of it, but to aggravate my sufferings, which nothing but your Pity can lessen.  
I would not Madam, put you to too great an expense of Pity at once, I only desire your leave to adore you, and a reviving look now and then to support my languishing Soul. I wish I must confess your welcome Pity should extend so far, as to admit the humblest and most loving of your Slaves sometimes to your Conversation; I wish too— but should I trouble you with all my Wishes, it would be endless, and thought perhaps presumptuous, for they are extravagant, and have no limits but in you, soaring as my Love, and Boundless as your Charms:  
And cannot a Wreath thus tossed, thus distracted with such hopeless Wishes, merit your Compassion? Can nothing but Death atone for my loving you? And oh too charming Acme! I wish I were but as sure of your Pity. as I am of being the most miserable of Men whilst I live, and soon a Ghost without it.  
Give me leave Madam, to hope you will not always deny it me— mistake me not. This hope is not built on an overweening Confidence in my own Merits, (yet if Love be so I have the greatest) but on that noble Idea, I form of your Mind from the Beauty of your Body, for sure Nature cannot be so preposterous in the most Solemn of her Works, as to leave such outward perfection unfinished within. And pity Madam, is the greatest and most consummate attribute of the Noblest Mind, as Beauty is of the Body.  
Nay, Beauty is of no use nor Advantage without Pity, and the cruelest of your Sex must at last have recourse to it, after they have foolishly sacrificed many of the precious hours of flying, and irrecoverable Youth to a barbarous and unaccountable Custom; if they resolve not, still more foolishly to fling away the greatest, and most valuable of heavens Blessings Beauty, and Youth without making use of 'em.  
The Misers of Money have more Reason', than those of Beauty: for the former have the store they spare still by them, to gratify their Ambition or Pleasure of viewing it; but the latter deny themselves the enjoyment of that Treasure, that has no other use, and which they can't preserve with all their care; and 'tis the height of folly to spare that, which tho' we use not, flies swiftly fromus without any Advantage and which can never be recovered.  
Be not therefore, my adorable Acme, so improvidently Provident, of the fleeting Store, as o compliment a senseless and customary Barbarity, at the expense of your Justice and Reason; they both demand your Pity and your Love. For Retaliation is the Law of Justice, Love for Love, and Heart for Heart, as well as Eye for Eye, and Hand for Hand. And Reason would persuade you to lay your coming Years out in Pleasure, and none so innocent, so lasting, and so vast a●… Love.  

Love's the most generous Passion of the Mind.  
The safest Refuge Innocence can find.   
'Tis founded in Nature, the World and all Mankind own their being's to'●….  
'Tis true Madam, I am not formed with all that nice proportion, and that curious shape, that Fops are so proud of, and Women so much cover; but yet my Mind (nor is it a boast to say so) excels them. I dress not like a Bian, nor do I move by Art, but then, too charming Acme, I do not love by art as he does. My Form, my Mien, and my Love are of a Piece, plain and sincere, and only informed by Nature.  
If all this merit not your Love, it must your Pity and Friendship, and on any Terms I would be admitted to the number of your Slaves.  
Septimius   

To the Proud Acme.  
THe sending back my three last Letters, Madam, makes me suppose you can take no great Pleasure in detaining the former, and that I now do you a very grateful Office in sending for 'em. And Madam, you can't doubt but that it must be a wondrous Satisfaction to one so infinitely enamoured, as I am, to please you at any Rate. If you send 'em not, I'shall conclude, that however unacceptable the Offerer was, the Sacrifice was welcome; but if you return 'em, I shall have the mighty comfort amidst my Sighs, to kiss something that has touched those Hands, that are not used to bestow any Favours on Men in my Circumstances.  
Well, Madam, since you are so cruel, 'tis well I've some other Balm in store for my wounded Heart; for Women to me like Scorpions, have always been their own Cure. If their Eyes have pierced my Heart, their Vanity, Folly or Pride, has generally restored it to perfect Health. And I am sensible that I shall never be entirely undone or l●…st in Love, till I meet with one as free from aff●…cted Co●…ness, as from affected Languishments, and such pretty artificial Tweers, designing Glances,, betwixt Invitation and Denial, as are no small auxiliaries in Acmes Conquests. The only Bond, Madam, that ties my poor Heart for ever, to the Oar of Love, is an Innocent, Free, and Obliging Kindness, Sense, and an Agreeable Conversation and Humour, with an Exemption from Defects of Constitution, and Body, that shall be nameless, for Reasons best known to myself. And till I meet with such an one, my Heart, I thank my Stars, has so much the command of itself, as to admit as much, or as little of Love as it pleases; else Madam, in what a miserable pickle should I now have been d'ye think?— Sighing, Mourning, and Dying, to no purpose? besides, cursing, Fate, Stars, Planets, and all that (as Mr. Bays says) for a damned Ingrate?  
But since 'tis now over no more of that, thou wondrous fair one, lest you should think me yet your Power: but as my Passion for Acme, had a plaguy odd Beginning; so shall it here have full as Odd an ending.— For the Deuce (or any thing, but your Eyes) take me, if I am not at this very individual Moment within ken of the very place, whence I set out in my Voyage of Love; in which since you'll not permit me to be your Fellow Traveller. I wish you un bon Voyage. Adieu,  
Ma Belle Dame, \ Adieu, Septimius.   

To the Ingenious URANIA.  

LETTER I.  
I Was extremely uneasy, Madam, to be on such unequal Terms with you, whilst you know where to direct to me, though I done't to you; and I confess, I thought it as great a Grievance as Vizor Masks, by which Women have the unreasonable Advantage of walking invisibly, when Men are forced ev'ry where to go barefaced: Yet as those would be more tolerable, if none but the Ugly and Indifferent wore 'em, so should I with the greater Ease dispense with my Ignorance of a Direction to you, had you either none, or else less Wit than your Letters prove you have: For 'tis that Divine Charm that makes me desire to settle a Correspondence with Urania. Nor is this Desire opposite to your Resolution of remaining unknown: For there shall, upon Honour, be no further Inquiry made after you than you shall allow; tho G— persists in his Opinion, that you sacrifice your Wit and Sense to the Reputation of that trifling Sex you are not of; this not only the Wit of your former, but the polite Accuracy of all your Letters persuade him, since you are not only free from the false Spelling of most Women, but are so entirely exempt from false English and Grammar, that you discover a better Acquaintance with Lily, than to've passed no further, than that Caution you quote from his Accidens; besides some Beauties in the mere Writing down your Thoughts, which few Men Practise or Know.  
I am of the same Opinion of you, Madam, I declared in my former; and because I would fain have you a Woman, believe you firmly to be so: And though G— be so positive, that the Diffidence you pretend of yourself, is nothing but a cunning Subterfuge from the surest Evidence of your Sex, your Conversation, yet am I (taking you still for a very Woman) both pleased and dissatisfied with it; for tho' I am pleased, because it seems the Child of Modesty and Discretion, which seldom join with Wit, especially in a Woman; Yet am I dissatisfied with it, since I find 'twould deprive you of what it qualifies you for; Conversation, I mean, with Mankind, since that, not only secures you from the Fate which the Imprudent of your Sex, have for want of it, incur; but also because it renders you more desirable to Men of Sense.  
But Madam, were we such formidable Creatures as you seem to make us, that you could not Converse with us but you must be Ruined, yet is there no Danger from me, who have none of those engaging Accomplishments, that are the wondrous and bewitching Engines of your Sex's Destruction; as Wit, Shape, Dressing, Dancing and Singing; with the rest of the gay Train that take with the Fair: For I assure you I'm Ugly enough, and Dress ill enough to be a Wit, and yet am Dull enough to be Handsome, and a Beau. I can neither Sing nor Dance, and am yet very Impertinent; for though I talk little, yet even that is nothing to the purpose. So that, Madam, from such a Man, the most distrustful Lady need fear no Stratagem on her Affections, since they are generally taken by the Eye or Ear; and if neither of them be won, the Fort of your Heart is secure, and Impregnable.  
But referring this wholly to yourself, all I shall beg, is a settled Correspondence with you, whether you be a real or counterfeit Woman; and shall therefore conclude with acknowledging my Error in not taking more Notice of your Welsh Friend; though it may well be Pardoned, if the Wit of the Indict●…r disarmed all my satyric Rage, and made me rather sacrifice a just Indignation to her Praise, than forsake so pleasing a Theme, for so fruitless a Labour, as chastising those inhospitable Britain's, who would no more now have understood or improved the wholesome Satire to Practice, than they did their Duty, when they made the Ingenious Urania their Enemy; whom to retain my Friend, shall be the Endeavour of,  
Madam, Your humble Servant, Viridomar.   

LETTER II.  
April the 2d. 93.  
HAving at last recovered your Letter, Madam, I send this Answer to prevent your Trouble of Transcribing another Copy. First therefore, Madam, I must tell you, I'm infinitely Proud that you do me the Honour to six your Correspondence with me; nor would I for the World have the Happiness of this intercourse of Letters broke off on any Account, much less on one so trivial as you mention: For there's not a Line you send, but I esteem it more than the whole Revenue of the Post-Office. Though I must confess I could wish (and that with all my Heart) that you were not leaving the Town, because I find by this Letter, that there is no Danger of your Heart, if I should be admitted to your Conversation: For I assure you, Madam, I am far from a Phoenix; though I may perhaps, have some Pretence to those your darling Qualities: And I hope the Ambition I shall always avow to be the Friend of Urania, will excuse the Vanity of being more Particular.  
I hate Ingratitude where ever 'tis, and can't therefore think them Hero's, who espouse the Quarrel of the Ingrateful, let their Personal Bravery or Courage be never so great. Then, Madam, for Dissimulation, I can say this, that I'm far from loving it, and only practise it sometimes on Compulsion, as a necessary Evil; and to say Truth, the evident Necessity of it, has made it lose the Infamy of a Vice, with almost all, and gained it the Reputation of a Virtue, with the Politic and Wise: Nor can indeed any Man be free from it, unless he design to purchase the Name of a Madman, and frighten all he knows from his Company. Consider it a little, Madam, and I'm confident you'll allow a little Dissimulation necessary to the Decorum of good Breeding; for you can't think it proper to tell this supper annuated Matron, that all the Paint on her Face will not hid the tell-tale Marks of Old Age; or that pretty prattling Virgin in all the gay Bloom of her Youth, that she's a Fool, and that she should be silent if she han't a mind to sacrifice all the Trophies of her Eyes, to the Impertinence of her Tongue: Or that Beau of Sixty, that all his Charms are borrowed from his Dress and Garniture; or that he's more the Creature of his Vallet, than of God Almighty, since the Vallet, has so extravagantly Transformed him from what God made him. And so on, to the rest of the Follies and Vices of Mankind. This would be to make one's self more unacceptable than a Memento Mori in the midst of Joy and Pleasure. But to proceed, Madam, I'm free from Hypocrisy: Nor can I think any one an Hypocrite but an Atheist; nor any one an Atheist but a Fool. As for the Two next Endowments you require, viz. a Great Soul, and a true Nobleness of Mind, the Practice and different Opinions of the World, have rendered the Terms so ambiguous, that the Definitions of Philosophy are of small Use: I must therefore desire you to explain in your next, what you mean by them, that so I may find how far I can pretend to 'em; for I'd fain be qualified for the incomparable Urania's Friend. Generosity (if I mistake not your Sense of the Word) has been my Vice and Punishment. In short, Madam, if by Good Humour you mean Good Nature, I can put in some Claim to't; but if by't you understand a brisk Jest and jovial Air, much Talk and more Laugh; Faith, Madam, I must own I'm not fond of making any Pretence to't.  
Thus much for the Qualities both Negative and Affirmative you require in a Friend: Then as for the Follies and Vices you Abominate, I thank my Stars: I'm not very guilty of 'em, and think Affectation equally criminal in Gaiety, as well as Gravity.  
And now, Madam, since you have described the Phoenix that must win your Heart, give me Leave to present you with a rough Sketch of her (that's almost as rare) that must make an absolute Conquest of mine, (for as for transient Amorets, one indifferently qualified may do.) She must be moderately Fair but no Beauty; (and that's the reason I hinted at in my last, that I was sorry you told me you were no Beauty) or at least, if possible, only so in my Eye: She must be neither Proud, nor Affected; as Witty as Urania, yet as free from Opiniature and Obstinacy as I think her. I mean not by Wit, those noisy Repartees of the Cocquets of the Town, which you with justice Condemn, but a sensible Apprehension of things, which I'm confident you can't mean, when you term Wit a Scandal. In fine, Madam, she must be Easie and Free in her Conversation, very Grateful, very Generous, and very Loving in her Nature: And when I find one so qualified, I'm entirely her Slave.  
But whilst I pursue my Thoughts, I find my Letter grow too long, which is one Fault of a whining Lover, who being much your Aversion, I'll here conclude with an humble Request that I may have Leave to hope I shall one Day be so Happy, as to be admitted to your Conversation: For that, Madam, I must own is the greatest Ambition of  
Your humble Servant Viridomar.   

LETTER III.  
YOur Raillery, Madam, on my Loss of your Letter, is as Just, as Witty; and I confess with a great deal of Confusion, I can make no Apology for't, unless an Assurance that I'll never trust your Letters in my Pocket again, at least with any other Papers.  
I think myself extremely Happy that I can please Urania in any thing; and truly, Madam, 'twas the real Value I have for you, that made me alter the Medium of our Correspondence, because my Brother had the Assurance not only to reflect upon the Direction you sent me, but also to show your Letter to more than I desired should have that Pleasure without your Permission. This Dealing with his Brethren of— might be Pardonable, because they have some Dependence on him; but the Respect that's due to your Merit, and the Justice that's due to me, might have curbed his Curiosity within the Bounds of Good Manners.  
I hope, Madam, you'll forgive me this Discovery and Heat, for your Letter has made me an irreconcilable Enemy to Dissimulation, who before was never any Friend to it. You have Madam, new Moulded me to your own Desire; and that Vice appears now so very Ugly and Unmanly, that I'm extremely ashamed I ever said a word in its Vindication: But above all, I shall think it a crying Sin, to dissemble with the Divine Urania, and for that reason, Madam, I must tell you, that my Conversation with both Sexes, has given me some reason to think I'm pretty well acquainted with the general Inclinations of Mankind; this, when I read your account of yourself, makes you seem to me to describe an Angel, not a Woman: The glorious Image you give me of Urania, by the Virtues she dotes on, and the Vices she abhors, is so extremely uncommon, that it looks like the divine Draught of some Inspired Poets Fancy, when he informs us, by a great Example of his own Creating, what we should be, and not like a Reality. And your Prose has the effect of his Numbers, conveying Instruction in its most grateful Vehicle Pleasure, and so fixes the noble Idea in my Soul, and makes me in love with your Mind, before I see your Person: And you shall never persuade me, that Conversing with you, can ever lessen my Esteem for you: For though the Writings of some of the most Ingenious afford a more agreeable Entertainment, than their Company, yet we may lose a great deal of their Excellency by not taking their Thoughts right; which made Martial tell Fidentinus, that by ill repeating his Verses, he made 'em his own: Besides, Madam, there are a thousand Graces in the delivery that abundantly improve the Sense, a fair Lady speaks, which must increase her Esteem, and which we lose when Absent. And, Divine Urania, since your Heart is secure in very good hands already, I can see no reason, (forgive my Freedom) why you should deny this Favour, since I leave to yourself the management of the Interview, and give you my Word, that you shall have the entire government of my Discourse and Actions.  
But, Madam, though I have a more earnest longing to Converse with Urania, than Slaves for Liberty, the sick for Health, the poor for Riches, and the Ambitious for Honours; yet Divine, unknown, such a respect I have, such a profound Veneration for you, that I would Sacrifice even this Content (which perhaps is not of less value than even Life itself) to your least Inconvenicy, if I was sure it could not be obtained without prejudice to Urania.  
I have a great deal to say about the Greatness and Nobleness of Mind you describe, but that would be too long for a Letter that has already exceeded its just Bounds; and I hope, I may have the liberty to deliver my Sentiments by word of Mouth; only I must say that reason, not Opinion, general or particular, aught to decide so weighty a Point. But upon the whole, Madam, by the Vices you lay down as its Opposites I may presume to make some small pretention to it.  
I would fain know what more than good Nature goes to the composing good Humour, since Urania says there is more; I take not good Nature in that general sense you hint at, but for a freedom from Malice, Envy, Moroseness, etc. but if any part of gaiety be required, I'm at a loss, for I'm naturally of a Melancholy disposition, and dull heavy Conversation, as I formerly told you; and perhaps this want of an Airy Temper, with a little foolish Modesty I've always been troubled with, is that, that has made me still so Unsuccessful with the Fair, that none could ever be in Love with me, whilst others with as few Brains, more Vanity, and if possible, less agreeable Persons have prevailed. Waller says, Women stoop to the Forward and the Bold, which are no ingredients in my Character, at least in Love, and my Converse with your Sex. So that, Madam, I hope you'll scruple no more to give me leave to wait on you, and as I prove, admit me into your Esteem, at least as far as cold Friendship will allow; or discard me for ever, a greater Curse than which cannot fall on the Head of,  
Madam, Your Humble Servant, and (if you'll give me leave to say so) True Friend, Viridomar.   

LETTER IU.  
May 5. 83.  
COming to Town last night, and having perused yours, I think your Anger, Madam, against the Bookseller, very just, since 'tis indeed a Scandal to any Name in the opinion of the most Sensible part of the Town, to be in these Mercuries: and the Zeal I was told you had for 'em, made me read your first Letters with some Prejudice, till spite of all that disadvantage, your Wit and Address raised my Admiration, which with each Letter increasing, begot this importunate desire, you resist with so causeless and severe an Obstinacy. Causeless, Madam, because my Opinion of a grant of a Request, pursued with that ardour and importunity, would be pure as your Style, and just as your Thoughts; for I'm none of those censorious formal Hypocrites, that can receive the Favour, and yet condemn the Benefactor that bestowed it. Severe to Extravagance to make the very Desire it's own Obstacle, after our most reasonable Parts have brought us acquainted. Sure, Divine Urania, you'll grant, that our Correspondence is in reason a more honourable Introduction to Friendship, than a Visit or two with a Friend; yet after this last, the most scrupulous Lady will permit one to wait on her.  
You must therefore, Madam, Pardon me, if what you have urged, do not reconcile me to your Denial; nor have you by any means as good Reasons for this, as against Dissimulation; for there you opposed the common Practice generally Erroneous, but here vindicate its falsest Principle.  
The Body of good Humour I have, but want the Spirit and Life, Facetiousness, which perhaps your Conversation may inspire, as Dull as I am.  
Your Letters Madam, can never be too long, for as you find I can never write a short Letter to you, so I desire none from you but long ones, since their perusal is, if not the only, yet the greatest Pleasure of,  
Madam, Your Humble Servant, and Admiring Friend, Viridomar.   

LETTER V.  
ASsure yourself, admired Urania, that this generous Compliance of yours with my repeated Importunities to see you, shall never cause any opinion but what is the natural Result of your Conduct in it; that is, that you are a Lady of Sense and Honour; and I only think you have used too much Caution in this tedious delay: You have sacrificed abundantly too much time to Formality and Custom, for 'tis those two, that make the Ladies more hard of access than Men. My first Letter had been sufficient to have gained me admission to any Man, nay, to Hobbs himself; and where our Esteem for a Lady is of the same nature, viz. a Love of her Mind, bounded with a just Friendship, all delays are but needless Cautions. I only urge this, Madam, to show you how far I'm from entertaining any ill thoughts of the dear Favour you bestowed on me in your Last; and I'm abundantly assured, that the satisfaction of your Conversation will answer my Expectation; for whatever you may think of dull Terrestrial Conversation (true in reference to what my Alloy will give it) 'tis my opinion it cannot be dashed with much of Earthly Dulness where Urania is to give it Life and Spirit.  
You have reason I must confess to be something cautious in making a new Friendship with one you know not, since you have been Deceived; so much deceived in one you thought you might so well depend on as Asdrubal, whose Name was well suited to his Nature, and if of his own choice, certainly his Punick Faith made him so fond of a Carthaginian Name. But since Experience can't secure you in a Friend, I fancy Madam, 'twould not be Impolitic to try what Chance will do; throw yourself entirely on that, and be absolutely my Friend without any more Caution. Mr. Dryden says,  

— There's a necessity in Fate  
Why still the brave bold Man is Fortunate.   
The Cautious sift, things with a too nice and jealous Eye to be easily Happy, whereas, if we will really be so, we must a little contribute to the cheating ourselves into an opinion of it; for Happiness is nothing but Opinion; and though this sometimes end too soon, yet it makes some amends, by the Pleasure it gave us whilst we entertained the dear Amusement; whereas, the Cautious are always in pain to avoid Pain, which is like dying for fear of Death. Let not therefore the perfidious Ingratitude of the faithless Carthaginian influence your Judgement of Viridomar, who is not only an irreconcilable Enemy to Ingratitude and Insincerity, but a hater of all Common Wealths, because they have always signalised their Ingratitude, and indeed lie under a necessity of always being so: So that the thing you dislike in me, aught to be your greatest satisfaction and assurance of my Fidelity and Honour, in choosing rather to Suffer, than Triumph; for I have a Soul ambitious as any Man; but, Urania 'tis a brave Ambition governs me; I would be Great and Just, but rather Just than Great. I would be Great, to have it in my power to do Good, to destroy those Villains that Influence the Best of Princes, and make them act contrary to their Natures; for I could show a Path Princes might tread to Power, Wealth and Honour, consistent with the Love, the Interest, and the Glory of their Countries: But could I make my Country the Envy of Europe and Mistress of both the Indies, and of a lasting Unity at Home, I would not part with my Faith, my Honour, nor my Sincerity to effect it. Let not Asdrubal therefore be the Rule of your Judgement of Viridomar, but assure yourself I would not yield to you in Faith and Sincerity: And as you will atone for all the faults I have experienced in your ●…ex, so I'll act with such an emulation of your Virtues, that I'll force you to confess I differ from most Men. Oh! I would Die before I'd make my Friend and Benefactor my Tool, my Step to pass the dirty Plashes of my Fortune, and then Regard her no more, as Asdrubal has done: No, let me be Just and Poor, rather than thrive by Villainy. A Woman qualified like Urania, aught to be valued above the World, and shall by Viridomar, if she admits his Friendship.  
I tell you my whole Soul, Urania, you see it naked as Heaven, and void of all Disguise; I'm weary of this Villainous World, and the endless as well as bootless Impertinencies of the Conversations of my own Sex, a wretched Circle they move in, of Profaneness, Nonsense and Hurry; I have had too large a share in this foolish Prize, these destructive Baubles of the Town, that Men like Fools, bedeck themselves withal; proud of their very Infamy: I Long I Sigh for a dear Refuge from them all, and nothing like the Converse of Urania, whose Sense, as well as Sex, affords a more reasonable and calmer Joy; the sense of it transports my Mind with such a strange Impetuosity to establish a Friendship with you, that I'm extremely uneasy till I see you, and shall expect Friday with the most impatient desire, when according to your appointment, I'll certainly wait on you, and with this send you the thanks of the most grateful Mind, for this Generous Condescension to the Importunity of,  
Madam, Your faithful and sincere Friend and Humble Servant, Viridomar.    

An Essay at a Vindication of Love in Tragedies, against Rapine and Mr. Rymer.  
Directed to Mr. DENNIS.  
THE short yet just Account you give in your Prefatory Epistle to the Impartial Critic, of the Reasons that hindered the Grecians from bringing the tender Scenes of Love on the Stage in their Tragedies, makes me wish you had proceeded to a full Vindication of the Practice of our Poets in that particular; and indeed this Letter is designed to provoke you to such an Undertaking, which would effectually stop the ●…lamours of some Cynical Critics, that will not allow any thoughts of Love agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy.  
The chief Arguments indeed which these Gentlemen bring, are from the Practice of the Ancients, (the cause of which, you have given in the above quoted Epistle) whose Authority they are of opinion should outweigh Reason. But since the Ipse dixit has been so long laid aside in Philosophy, as an enemy to our Inquiries into Nature, I can see no reason why it should be of so much greater force in Poetry; since 'tis perhaps almost as prejudicial to our imitation of Nature in This, as to our discovery of it in the Other. As far as the Ancients and the Rules Aristotle draws from them, agree with the Character you give these, of being nothing but good sense and Nature reduced to Method, I shall close with them; but when they either deviate from this, or reach not up to what may be done, I must think it but just to withdraw myself from the subjection of the Stagyrite, who has had a Reign long enough o'er the Minds of Mankind, and an Empire that far exceeded the Extent and Continuance of his Royal Pupil Alexander.  
But to deal fairly with our Opponents, I shall first propose all their Objections against this Opinion I Defend, as I find them in Rapine, and his Copier, Mr. Rymer; and then examine how far they are from being fortified by Reason, as their Admirers boast. I shall begin with Rapine; and that he may be sure to have Justice, I shall Quote him as his Friend has Translated him. Reflect. 20. p. 110.  
Modern Tragedy turns on other Principles: the Genius of our (the French) Nation is not Strong enough to sustain an Action on the Theatre, by moving only Terror and Pity. These are Machine's that will not play as they ought, but by great Thoughts and noble Expressions, of which we are not indeed altogether so capable as the Greeks. Perhaps our Nation which is naturally Gallant, has been obliged to the necessity of our Character, to frame for ourselves a new System of Tragedy, to suit with our humour. The Greeks, who were Popular Estates, and who hated Monarchy, took delight in their Spectacles, to see Kings Humbled, and high Fortunes cast down, because their Exaltation grieved them. The English, our Neighbours, love Blood in their Sports, by the quality of their Temperament. These are Insularies sep●…rated from the rest of Men; we are more Humane. Gallantry moreover agrees with our Manners; and our Poets believed that they could not succeed on the Theatre, but by sweet and tender Sentiments; in which perhaps they had some Reason: For in effect, the Passions represented become Deformed and Insipid, unless they are founded on Sentiments conformable to those of the Spectator. 'Tis this obliges our Poets to stand up so strongly for the Privilege of Gallantry on the Theatre, and to bend all their Subjects to Love and Tenderness; the rather to please the Women, who have ●…ade themselves Judges of these Divertisements, and ●…surped the Right to pass Sentence. And some besides have suffered themselves to be prepossessed, and led by the Spaniards, who make all their Cavaliers Amorous. 'Tis by them that Tragedy began to degenerate; and we by little and little accustomed to see Heroes on the Theatre smitten with another Love than that of Glory; and that by degrees, all the Great Men of Antiquity have lost their Characters in our Hands. 'Tis likewise perhaps by this Gallantry that our Age would devise a Colour to excuse the feebleness of our Wit, not being able always to sustain the same Actions by the greatness of Words and Thoughts.  
However it be, (for I am not hardy enough to declare myself against the Public) 'tis to degrade Tragedy from that Majesty, which is proper to it, to mingle it in Love, which is of a Character always light, and little suitable to that Gravity of which Tragedy makes Profession. * Hence is proceeds, that these Tragedies mixed with Gallantries, never make such admirable Impressions on the Spirit, as did those of Sophocles and Euripides; for all the Bowels were moved by the great Objects of Terror and Pity, which They proposed. '●is likewise for this that the Reputation of our Modern Tragedies so soon Decays, and yields but small Delight at two Years end; whereas the Greek please yet to those that have a good Taste, after two Thousand Years; because what is not grave and serious on the Theatre, though it give Delight at present, after a short time grows Distasteful and Unpleasant; and because what is not proper for great Thoughts and great Figures in Tragedy, cannot support itself. The Ancients who perceived this, did not Interweave their Gallantry and Love, save in Comedy. * For Love is of a Character that always degenerates from that Heroic A●… of which Tragedy must never divest itself. And nothing to me shows so mean and senseless, as for one to amuse himself with whining about frivolous Kindnesses, when he may be admirable by great and noble Thoughts, and sublime Expressions. * But I dare not presume so far on my own Capacity and Credit, to oppose myself of my own Head, against a Usage so Established. I must be content modestly to propose my Doubts, and that may serve to exercise the Wits, in an Age that only wants Matter. But to end this Reflection with a touch of Christianism, I am persuaded, that the Innocence of the Theatre might be better preserved, according to the Idea of the ancient Tragedy; because the New is become too Esseminate, by the Softness of later Ages; and the Prince de Conti, who signalised his Zeal against the Modern Tragedy, by his Treatise on that Subject, would without doubt, have allowed the Ancient, because that has nothing that may seem Dangerous.  
Then for Mr. Rymer, in his jovial way of Criticism, he condemns Love on the Stage in these Words, brought in indeed by Head and Shoulders.  
After all, it is to be observed how much that Wild-Goose Chase of Romance runs still in their Heads some Scenes of Love must every where be shuffled in, though never so Unseasonable.  
The Grecians were for Love and Music, as mad as any Monsieur of them all, yet their Music kept within Bounds, attempted no Metamorphosis to turn the Drama into an Opera: Nor did their Love come Whining on the Stage to Esseminate the Majesty of Tragedy. It was not any Love for Briseis, that made Achilles so Wroth, it was the Affront in taking his Booty from him, in the Face of the Confederate Army. This his Stomach could not Digest.  
—— Nec gravem  
Peleidae Stomachum cedere nescii. Hor.  
These are the Pillars and Supports of the Gentlemen of this Opinion; so that I hope, if I can but obviate these Objections they bring, I have gained the End proposed to myself in the Justification of the Practice of the best of our Poets, in presenting us with the tenderest Scenes of Love in Tragedies. 'Tis true, the Charge of both these Critics, is directed against the French Poets, but in the excluding Love, as derogatory to the Majesty of Tragedy, it reaches our Poets, who do the same. I have Quoted Rapine at large, because one part of the Reflection seems to answer the other to my Hand; for the ground of his Accusation is the deviating from the Practice of the Ancients; for which he gives so good Reasons, that 'twould have been a madness not to have formed a new System, since the Genius, the Character, Humour and Manners of the People, required as much. He says, that, In effect the Passions represented become deformed and insipid, unless they are founded on Sentiments conformable to those of the Spectator. But before I proceed to any particular Reply, I shall draw the Objections both contain, into short and positive Heads, to make their Confutation the more Evident.  
The whole Charge therefore, may be reduced to these three Heads, the 1. Motives the Moderns (particularly the French) had to Introduce Love into Tragedy. 2. The Objections against it: And, 3. The Effects of it. First, As to the Motives, Rapine tells us, they were the Necessity of the Character, Manners, and Temperament of the People, (which, without doubt, was the Poet's Duty to regard.) Next, to gratify the Women Judges, (which is the Poet's Duty as a Man, both in Regard of his Profit and Sex, especially when the Interest and ●…ower of the Women strike in with the Character, Manners, and Temperament of the People.) Lastly, To excuse the Feebleness of their own Wit. These are the Motives Rapine sums up of this Innovation on the Stage; which, as I have before observed, are a sufficient Justification of it, even according to himself: But for the last, 'tis only a morose Caprice of his own Fancy, for certainly there is as much Wit required to the Just, and artificial Management of the Passion of Love; as those of Fear and Terror, and those other Species of Passions that are subservient to the moving of them.  
I shall therefore pass to the Objections, which are four in Number, the First and Chief (in some men's Opinion) is, That it deviates from the Practice of the Ancients; who, as the Inventors of Tragedy, challenge our Imitation. 'Tis they must be our Model, and as we make more or less Approaches to that in the Fabrics of our Plays, we are in a greater or lesser Degree of Perfection. I grant indeed, that the Ancients were the Inventors of Tragedy; nay, and of Comedy too; 'tis their due Glory. Nor will I pretend to rob 'em of it. I will also grant, that there is some Regard to be had to their Performances, as to their Model; but then I deny that by the Rules of Reason, we are obliged to a servile Observation of their Precepts, or Practice, without all Addition, or Improvement. Had the Practice of the First Inventors been of such Inviolable Authority, Thespis had brought Tragedy to its Perfection, and one Actor, and a deal of Chorus (more ridiculous than an entire Opera) had been the non plus ultra of the Stage. But if it were lawful for Aeschylus, Euripides, Sophocles and others, to improve upon the Model Thespis had left them, why should other Poets, great as those in Genius, be deprived of the same Liberty, provided it be for the Advancement of the Profit, and Glory of Tragedy? Upon this Condition I do suppose, none will deny the Moderns this Liberty to forsake the Steps of the Greeks. But that our Alterations are for the better, will appear from the After-proofs, as well as from what I shall here say on this Particular.  
First, Then 'tis evident from what you, Sir, have urged in the Impartial Critic, That the leaving off the Chorus is for the better, since it frees it from an unnatural Part, which took up so large a Share of the ancient Tragedies; and in that, delivers it from the absurdest Improbabilities in Nature, which are as destructive to the End of Tragedy as any thing that can be introduced. Next, it has enlarged the Bottom on which the ancient Tragedy stood, and by Consequence extended its Use and Advantage further. It has made it a more perfect Image of Humane Life, in taking in that which has so great a Share in it, LOVE; which whether it be derogatory to the supposed Majesty of Tragedy, I shall next examine; if not, my Assertion is evident.  
This indeed is the next Objection of our Adversaries, who tell us, That the Lightness of Love degrades the Majesty and Gravity of Tragedy, diverting it from Great, and Noble Thoughts, and Sublime Expressions, to whining about frivolous Kindnesses. This I confess is the heaviest Charge in Reality, if true, and therefore I shall take the greatest Pains to remove it; for if Love be not guilty of this, 'tis evidently an Improvement, and therefore to be continued in that Possession of the Stage, it has gained with so universal an Approbation.  
All the Arguments I shall bring to prove that it is not derogatory to the Majesty of Tragedy shall be drawn from— the Consideration of their Beloved Ancients; the very Meaning of the Word Majesty; and the Nature of the Passion of Love, and its Place in Regard to the others.  
First, 'Tis evident from the very Concessions of Rapine, the Agreement of all Critics, and the very Nature of the Thing, That Tragedy is not of greater Majesty, and Dignity, than an Epic Poem. In his Fourth General Reflection, he tells us, That from Homer's Epic Poems, Sophocles and Euripides took the Haughty Air of the Theatre, and Ideas of Tragedy; and gins the second Particular Reflection thus: The Epic Poem is that which is the Greatest, and most Noble in Poesy. To prove which he spends all that Reflection, and the magnifying of it takes up the Third and Fourth, and at the End of the Tenth particular Reflection he tells us, That All aught to be Majestic in an Heroic Poem. This also seems to be confessed by Mr. Rymer, when he, speaking of Love's effeminating the Majesty of Tragedy, Instances an Heroic Poem, viz. the Iliads of Homer, foreseeing perhaps that that might be objected against his Assertion, which is still in full force notwithstanding his saying, That 'twas not the Love ' of Achilles' for Brifeis, that made him so wroth, but the Indignity received in the Face of the Confederate Army. But besides this Concession of our Opposers (which is indeed Argument good enough ad Hominem) the very Nature of the thing proves the same. Hero's and Kings are the Subjects of both, and the principal Character of an Epic Poem, consists in the Narration (as Rapine truly observes) in which it is only opposed to Tragedy, which consists altogether in Action.  
The Majesty of an Epic Poem being thus demonstrated equal, if not superior to that of Tragedy. If I can prove by the Practice of Homer and Virgil (the greatest of Heroic Poets) that they esteemed not Love derogatory to the Majesty of their Poems, 'tis Proof-sufficient that it cannot degrade the Majesty of Tragedy, which is not greater than the other.  
But this is evident from the Iliads of Homer, and the Aeneids of Virgil. Homer in his Iliads makes Achilles and Agamemnon in Love, one with his Captive Briseis, the other with Chryseis: For Agamemnon tells Achilles and the Council of the Grecians, that he prefers Chryseis to Clytaemnestra the Wife of his Youth; and that she is not inferior to her in any of her Qualities or Beauties. He often calls her Beautiful Chryseis, and always speaks very feelingly when he mentions her. And Achilles his Anger had not rose to that Degree, but that he was deprived of his Rosie-cheeked Briseis. Horace was of my Opinion, in his Second Epistle Book 1. 
Hunc Amor, ira quidem urit utrumque  Which you very justly English thus, 
Whose injured Love●… in both strange Fury breeds.   
For the Rise of Agamemnon's Passion is evidently from his Love to Chryseis, as he plainly confesses in his Expressions; and that of Achilles was not only exaggerated, but confirmed by the same Loss of her he Loved. Ovid in his Amours, lib. 2. is of the same Mind.  
Thessalus ancillae sacie Briseidos arsit:  
Serua Mycenaeo Phoebus amata duci.  
And in other Places he has to the same purpose. Besides in the Third Book of the Iliads, when Hector proclaims the Challenge of Paris, to fight Menelaus' in single Combat, the Condition is, that the Victor should possess Helena for his Wife. If this be not below the Majesty of an Epic Poem, certainly the Nobler Scenes of Love cannot be below that of Tragedy. But the Case is yet plainer in Virgil, for the Fourth Book of his Aeneids, is wholly on the Intrigue of Aeneas and Dido, where that Divine Poet has given the finest Draught of that Passion that Antiquity can boast of. But if this Criminal Passion of Dido and Aeneas, do not degrade the Majesty of an Epic Poem, can the same, or less Criminal, be below that of Tragedy? ●…his Book is not arraigned by our Critics for any Defect in this, and by others allowed as noble a Piece as any of that Poet, so that Love is not such an Enemy to Noble Thoughts, but that 'tis consistent with them; nor to the Majesty of Expression, as this Fourth Book of Virgil evinces. Besides, we find in the Alcestes of Euripides, an Attempt of Love, and something of it in the Ajax of Sophocles; nay, 'tis the Foundation and Fable of the Phoedra of Euripides.  
Thus we see the Enemy beat from one of their beloved Holds, the Authority and Practice of the Ancients. I shall now therefore, proceed to the very Meaning of the Word Majesty; by which we shall be able to discover how far it will contribute to the Confirmation of our Position.  
To let alone the Grammatical Etymology of the Word, and take it in its Poetical Sense, where 'tis Metaphorically used, it means something that is Great and Pompous. And Horace in the fourth Satire of his First Book, means this Majesty we talk of, when he says,  
Primum ego illorum dederim quibus esse Poet as  
Excerpam Numero: Neque enim concludere versum  
Dixeris esse satis; neque siquis scribat uti nos  
Sermoni propriora, putes hunc esse Poetam  
Ingenium cui sit, cui mens divinior, atque os  
Magna sonaturum, des nominis hujus honorem.  
So that Majesty, is nothing else but an Elevation of Thought, and Expression above the Common and Vulgar Discourse. By this Explanation of it, it becomes intelligible, and we shall see, that the Critics would only amuse us with Words. Now if they can prove by Reason, that the Thoughts and Expressions of Love in its several Effects and Emotions, cannot be exalted above the Vulgar, and Common Discourse, then is Love of too low a Character for Tragedy. But if Love be not incapable of this Elevation, then is our Point gained in this Particular too, which will be evinced from the next Proof, drawn from the Nature of the Passion of Love, and its Place in regard to the others.  
A Passion is more or less Majestic, (and by Consequence, more or less fit for Tragedy) in regard either of the Rank or Degrees of the Passions, of the Sentiments it inspires, the Effects it causes, the Actions that depend upon it, or in sine, the Influence it has on the Life of Mankind.  
If the First, 'tis evident that Love has much the Pre-eminence above Terror and Pity. Des Cartes reduces all the Passions to Six principal Heads, Admiration, Love, Desire, (or rather Concupiscence, Joy and Grief.) Dr. Moor reduces them to Three Heads only, Admiration, Love and Hate. The first of which being placed in the Brain, and being but the Step to the other, he with the Schoolmen reduces them yet to Two, the Concupiscible and the Irascible; which Des Cartes terms in other Words, properly Love and Hate. So that we see Love on all Hands, appears to be a Primitive Passion, out of several Degrees of which, and its Opposite, are the rest compounded and derived. Fear or Terror is derived from Desire, Desire from Love, Commiseration is derived from Grief, Grief from Hate; and is compounded of Love and Grief. So that if we respect the Degrees of the Passions, Love is the more Excellent, as being a Primitive Passion; but Fear and Pity, only under-Species and Derivatives from it: So that in Nature, Love is more Noble than those. Let us therefore proceed to the Sentiments i●… inspires, etc. By Sentiments I mean the Thought●… that a Lover derives from the Passion he's possessed with. But these are so different, that we must run through the several Conditions of Lovers to make any Judgement of 'em: For those Thoughts that proceed from Anger, Fear, Jenlousie, Hope, Despair; nay, and Hate, with the rest of the Passions, are to be looked for in a Lover, according to his several Circumstances. But take him in his most easy and tranquil Station, when tenderest Desires are fanned with sure Success, his Thoughts are more or less elevated, according to the State and Degree of the Person that's affected. Those of a Shepherd might be too low, those of a Beau too Gay and Light, but those of a Hero must retain something of his Character, and must be Noble as the Object that inspires, or the Person that receives the Inspiration. The Two First indeed may be below the Dignity of Tragedy, but the latter can no more derogate from that, than from the Character of the Person. But supposing the most tender and the softest Scenes of a Hero's Love are not Majestic enough for Tragedy; yet must they be Granted as lofty as those of his Griefs; and in the latter, Horace will have the descending from the haughty Air and Majesty of Tragedy, not only allowable, but absolutely necessary: De Art Poetic●…:  
Et Tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri  
Telephus & Peleus, cum pauper & exuluterque  
Projicit ampullas, & sesquipedalia verba,  
Si curate cor spectantis tetigisse querelâ, etc.  
There is a time therefore when the Hero not only may, but aught to quit his Grandeur, in Horace's Judgement; and that is when he's in Distress and in Exile. And why is it less lawful to departed from this Majesty (that is, supposing Love requires it) on the Account of the tenderest Hours of Love? This is more natural in my poor Opinion, than in the Case justified by Horace. For to Love, is natural to all Great Souls, and I think, as Noble and Essential to their Character, as any that make it up: But it may be doubted whether a Hero, that is, a Man of Invincible Courage, can suffer all his noble and towering Thoughts, all his Elation of Mind, to be so depressed by Adversity, as to submit to sordid and mean Grief and Sorrow: This may be the Reason why some Critics have reflected on the Oedipus Coloneus of Sophocles, as too low and mean for the Dignity of a Hero furnished with Resolution, Courage and Virtue in his other Play of him. 'Tis true, 'tis the general Frailty of Mankind to be dejected in Misfortunes; but Tragedy, as our Critics contend, should be something better than the Life, something more Philosophical, affording a Draught of what Man should be: Now 'tis certain that Philosophy will not allow Fortune any Influence on the Thoughts and Mind, at least so far as to make 'em degenerate.  
Thus we see if Love were what our Adversaries would have it, yet is it as reasonable to be allowed, as what their Masters hold necessary in Tragedy. But this is a Concession I am by no means obliged to make; for I am not of Opinion that there is any Necessity that the most tender Scenes of Love, should be void of that ●…evation of Thought and Expression, that constitutes Majesty. or that they should be delivered in that Sermone pedestri, Horace judges so requisite to the Expression of Grief. This is evident from Virgil's Fourth Book, and the All for Love of Mr. Dryden: Both which abound with noble Thoughts and Language.  
But the tender Scenes are the least Advantages Love brings to Tragedy. There are a great many beautiful Occasions offered to the Poet by it; from the Effects of it; the other Passions concerned in it, of Descriptions; &c. as we may find in all the best of our Plays, particularly in that admirable Piece of the best of Poets, which I mentioned but now, viz. All for Love. 'Tis the Love of Anthony and Cleopaira, that furnishes the Occasion of all the admirable Scenes of that Play: The same is to be said of the Fourth Book of Virgil's Aeneids.  
To conclude this Point, it must be granted that Love in its Nature, must inspire Noble and more August. Thoughts or Sentiments, than Grief or Terror. For the Soul is more dilated, and exerts its noblest Faculties more in Love, than in Sorrow or Fear; which both contract the Soul and its Operations. Love bushes a Generous Mind on to Great Actions, to render itself more agreeable and taking to the Object of his Desires than others. Whereas Grief and Fear are Opposites to all that's Great and Noble. All the Steps to Love are Great, and much akin to that Glory Rapine will have the only Object of an Hero's Passion; for Admiration is the first Illustrious Step by which a Man mounts to Love: And to acquire Admiration, a Man must perform something extraordinary: For 'tis not the Beauty or Manly Fabric of the Body, that are supposed capable alone of making that Impression on an Heroine, (for such must the Mistress of a Hero be) 'tis his Acts that render him Admirable and Charming in her Eye. And indeed, common Experience will convince us, that a Person of Quality that has Signalised himself by any Noble Deeds, shall gain the Fair much easier than a Son of the Earth unknown to Fame, and yet not born to Reputation. Love therefore, being the Spur to Noble Actions, cannot but inspire Noble Thoughts or Sentiments, and Noble Thoughts being agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy, Love in respect of the Sentiments it inspires, cannot derogate from that Majesty; which is the Second Proof I proposed in Defence of the Nobleness of this Passion. From whence I shall pass to the Third and Fourth, which have an immediate Dependence on these, and are pretty well cleared, by what I have produced toward the latter end of this Second Particular.  
In the next Place, Love is either opposite, or agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy, by its Effects, or Actions that depend upon it. If the Noblest Actions, and the most Tragical Events be agreeable to the Majesty of Tragedy, the Effects of Love are. Witness the Performances of the Hero's in some of the best of our Modern Plays; and the Catastrophe's of many that depend on the Effects of Love, as that of the inimitable, and so often mentioned All for Love, etc. Besides, 'tis already proved, that Love provokes to Noble Actions, in the foregoing Paragraph; and Noble Actions are properly dignifyed for Tragedy; therefore the Actions that depend on Love, are not derogatory to the Majesty of Tragedy. Nor do the other Effects of it afford 〈◊〉 less Noble Subject for the Poet, the many Passions that depend on them, the Jealousies, the Revenge, the Anger, the Contests of Desire, of Hope and Despair, etc. give unexpressible Beauty to any Poem: There is nothing so fine and moving, as the curious touching of the Passions, for those are the Engines that are to work the Effect of Tragedy, in producing Terror and Compassion. The Distractions and Disasters of those who are Sacrificed by Love, are of a more general concern than those that are made miserable by Ambition, or other Villainiest and this brings us to the Last Test that is to try whether Love be such an Enemy to the Majesty of Tragedy, viz. The Influence it has on the Life of Mankind. And here I believe Rapine places the chief Distinction betwixt Majesty, and the Lightness of Love. For he supposes the Influence Love has on Mankind, is of that light Nature, that it can produce nothing but soft whining about trifling Kindnesses; whereas Ambition, which is a Love of Glory, furnishes the Poet with Incidents as well as Thoughts, that are Noble and Surprising; which, with the Augustness of expression, compose what he understands by Majesty. But 'tis evident from what has been said, and Experience, that there are as many Noble Actions, as many extraordinary Events, and as many surprising Thoughts, the Effects of Love of Woman, as of the Love of Glory, both which are the Ingredients that Virgil, and Homer, and the other Great Poets of Antiquity composed their Hero's of. Achilles had his Briseis, his 〈◊〉, etc. Pyrrbus his Hermione, 〈◊〉 his Omphale, Megara, Dei●…, etc. 〈◊〉 his Te●…messa, 〈◊〉 his He●…, H●…r his A●…che, 〈◊〉 his C●…a, Dido and L●…. And none of the Hero●… Rac●… wounded the Goddess of Love but Di●…s 〈◊〉 So Heroical a Passion is the Love of Woman, that I must think it 〈◊〉 Majestical, as that of Ambition and Glory. The Love of Paris gave Homer the Ground of hi●… Poem, viz. the Trojan War, founded on the Rape of Helena, by her Trojan Admirer; which shows that the Influence it has on Mankind, i●… very great, when it was so powerful to prevai●… with the Trojans to keep Helena for the Lov●… Paris bore her, at the Expense of their Peac●… and Safety. And Dr. Burns in his Answer to Varillas, observes very truly against that Historian, that Interest or Ambition, are not the only Motives of the Actions of Mankind, there is much to be attributed to the Passions, and of them, none more Violent and Sovereign, than this of Love. Tragedy t●…erefore would not be a perfect Image of Humane Life, if it left so considerable a Share of it untouched, as Love Commands or Influences.  
Having thus proved (as I think at least) that Love does not degrade the Majesty of Tragedy, and that it therefore ought not, for that, to be discarded by our Tragic Poets, I shall now prove by the very end and design of this Poem, that 'tis necessary to be preserved by them; and by consequence, that the Possession of the Stage the Moderns have given it, is an Improvement of Tragedy and not a Derogation. The end of Tragedy is, as Rapine more than once assures us, the rectifying the Passions by the Passions themselves, in calming, by their Emotion, the Troubles they would excite in the Heart. From hence 'tis evident, that unless Love betaken in, the most predominant and violent of Passions, Tragedy cannot perfect its Cure, since it must leave the most considerable Distemper (for so are all the Passions that are not regulated by Reason) without any Remedy. But in his 17 th'. particular Reflection, where he mentions the ●…nd of Tragedy, he seems to contradict himself, when he first says, Pride and Hardness of Heart, were the most important Fa●…lts (not most important to be cured if not general, by so public a Cure) to be regulated, and yet a little after he tells us, that Man is naturally timorous and compassionate: Now he that is naturally compassionate, can never be accused of Hardness of Heart, with any Show of Reason and Justice. But something must be said to reduce the end of Tragedy to their Notions; whereas 'tis indeed the regulating all the most important Passions and Vices of Mankind, which contribute to the Disturbance of his Peace and Happiness, and obstruct his Progress in Virtue. Now it must be granted that Love, as well as other Passions, when it has passed the Boundaries of Reason, becomes destructive to our Happiness and Virtue, and aught therefore as much to be Purged as Fear or Pity. In short, if the chief Aim of Tragedy be the moving of Terror and Compassion, 'tis evident, Love is extremely conducive to that end, and therefore not ill made use of by our Poets.  
The next Objection that is made against Love in our Tragedy, is, that it discovers a Weakness of Genius. For Rapine tells us that it discovers a Weakness of Genius not to be able to sustain an Action on the Theatre, with moving Terror and Pity only. But he here supposes that Love does not contribute to the same end, as I have made evident already. He must be extremely out of Humour with the Moderns, else he would never make this an Objection against their Strength of Geni●…s, which is an Argument of their Judgement; for they evidently saw by the Performances of the Gr●…s, that Terror and Pity, could not be moved always by the barren Repetition of the same Method to it: And it were to be wished that Sophocles and Euripides had been sensible of this, they would then never have failed in keeping up the Dignity and Majesty of the Theatre, as they have in some of those few Plays we have of theirs. For we find a great Sterility in some of those Seven Plays of Sophocles, as to the Design and End of Tragedy, as well as Noble Thoughts. What Terror or Pity can P●…iloctetes move, or where are the Great and Noble Thoughts to support it? Where is the Majesty of Oedi●…s Coloneus, which Rapine himself grants to be low and degenerate? Nor can I discover the mighty Pity and Terror that can be moved by the bringing in a Madman on the Stage, and a company of dead Sheep about him. I'm sure 'twould make an Audience here laugh. Nay, I must declare (nor am I troubled at what Use the Critics will make of it) I think his Masterpiece outdone by Mr. Dryden in his All for Love, both in the Intrigue and Discovery; which are built on an abundantly more probable Foundation, and not one jot less surprising and fine. Nor will I yield that the Thought and Expression of Sophocles at all excel our English.  
The last Objection Rapine conjures up against Love, is, That it is opposite to the Reformation of the Stage. I can discover no such matter in any or at least in the best of our English Tragedies; and by Corneil's Discourse on his Theod●…a, we find the French Theatre more chaste than the Pulpit. Nor can I discover any thing in ours that comes short of that Purity that becomes Ladies of the severest Honour to hear: I cannot say that for the Comedy of our Stage, which as to Tragedy I think needs no Reformation.  
To pass therefore from the Objections against Love, to the prejudicial Effects, our Plays own to it; I find them too in Number●… 1. That it hinders those admirable Impressions those of the Ancients made on their Audience. 2. That it causes the decay of a Tragedy's Reputation, in a Year or two.  
The first he builds on a Fallacy, viz. The wonderful Impressions the Perseus and Andromeda of Euripides had on the Abderites. This is not to be attributed to the Excellence either of the Poet or the People, who were so gross to think Democritus Mad, when in the most reasonable Employment of his Studies, the Dissection of Animals: Besides, the true cause of this Success of these Poems, is not to be granted to the Excellence of the Poet, but the Distemper the People of that City were Infected with at that time, being all Poetically Mad. As a Witness of the truth of this, hear the Account Coelius, lib. 3. Cap. 4. (as I find it Quoted) gives of it.  
'Tis reported, that the Abderites in the time of Lysimachus, were Infected with a new and strange kind of Distemper, the progress of which was in this manner: First of all, an extreme violent burning Fever seized them, and ●…ag'd through the whole Town; on the Seventh day, the Blood in great abundance, burst out at their Noses; and some of them were affected with violent Sweatings, after which the Fever ended; but still a very ridiculous Distemper possessed all their Minds, they all ran Mad after Tragedies, thundering the jambics about as loud as they could possibly bawl, but what they chief Sung, was the Andromeda of Euripides, and the Words of Perseus. This strange and uncommon Madness diffused itself very far, till the Winter and the severe Cold coming on, put an end to this Evil.  
Thus he:— And can there be any thing more unfair, and absurd, than this condemning our Plays, for not making such Impressions on the Audience as the Andromeda of Euripides did on the Abderites, who were Distracted with a Fever, that made them Ravished with any Poetry; for we find, that it was not the Andromeda of Euripides only, but chief That they Recited.  
But were it true, that these Plays of the Ancients made these wondrous Impressions on People in their Wits, I'm sure it is not our Poet's fault, that ours are less Efficacious; the Passions cannot be more finely touched than in All ●…or Love, and several other Plays of Mr. Dryden, Mr. Otway, etc. We must therefore attribute it to another Cause. The Audience, at least the Major part of it, was composed of People not acquainted with the dismal Catastrophe's of Princes, which History now so abundantly furnishes us with, and so the uncommon Miseries of Princes on their Stage, influenced them; as I have seen a Ballad of some Tragical Story, without any Poetry in it, draw Tears from some of the Female Mobb, and make the Male shake their Heads, and go very sorrowfully away. But our Audience that is generally composed of the better sort, are not so easily moved with these Events, they being made familiar to 'em by History and Observation; with these the nice touching of the Passions chief move; and I myself, dull as I am, have often experienced those effects in me, for which the Critics boast so much of the power of the Ancient Poets.  
The other Effect is Ridiculous, viz. That it causes the decay of a Tradegy's Reputation in a Year or two. I know not indeed how far this may hold good against the French Poets; but I'm very sure 'tis evidently false as to our Plays. Witness all Mr. Drydens; the Orphan, and Venice Preserved, of Mr. Otway; Alexande●… and Others, of Mr. Lee's; which are still in Esteem, after several Years, and ev'ry day increasing their Reputation.  
Finally, Since the Motives that are urged a●… the cause of this Innovation, are either falsl●… pretended, or sufficient to Justify it; since th●… Objections are invalid, and the Effects not 〈◊〉 Defective as our Adversaries would have them: We must conclude, that Love is an Improvement of the Old Drama, and aught therefore to be Continued.  
I desire you'll excuse the length of my Letter, and hereafter confirm what my Arguments have aimed at, both by your Practice and better of your own; since you have both more leisure and better Penetration and Judgmeat, to secure so Noble a Cause against the frigid Opposers of it. Woman is a glorious part of the Creation, therefore I would willingly see the Love of them Established on as Noble a Foundation, as the Love of Glory, in the opinions of Men, which in Reality is so far more Excellent and Happy. 'Tis a Cause indeed, that deserves a greater Champion than myself; and, I hope, 'twill find one in you.   

To my Honoured, Ingenious, and Learned Friend, Dr. Midgely, about SLEEP and its Medicinal Property.  
ALL your good Nature, your readiness toserve your Friend, as myself have experienced; our Learning, Ingenuity, and the other Quali●…es that justly render you dear to all that know you, will not atone for one great Fault you are guilty of. That fault indeed is an excess of an uncommon Virtue; yet since an enemy to your own Good, it must be condemned by those that love you: Your Modesty I mean; for by this you keep yourself too much Unknown. This hinders you from pushing forward in the World, whilst Men of abundantly less Parts, both Acquired and Natural, Shoulder one another for Pre-eminence. Your Modesty, Doctor, does an Injury to the Public, as well as to yourself, in robbing both of the Advantages to be derived to and from each other.  
Myself not long ago, played the Physician with Success, though I am yet to seek in the cause of it: One complaining of some approaches of an Ague, and Feverish Symptoms; I gave him something that could have none or very little influence in his Cure; a little Chalk scraped very fine to take in a Glass of Ale, and bid him Sleep after it, and this perfected the Cure. I am apt to believe the Sleep that he got, (for he slept heartily all that Nightand part of the next Morning) was the chief Remedy; the grounds of my Opinion I'll here give you.  
Sleep, according to Galen, is nothing else but the Quiet or Rest of the Animal Faculties. This Definition is taken from the Effects. Aristotle terms it, the Impotence of the Senses, with a great deal of Reason, which his Interpreters rightly observe, is not a destruction and loss of the S●…ses, but a difficult and clogged Sense: For, a Man that is a Sleep, is not without his Senses, though they are with some difficulty affected: The defect of Perception in the Senses of a sleeping Man, is attributed to their Impotence and the force of Sleep, by which all the Senses and Animal Actions are locked or bound up. But Galen in the above quoted Definition, does justly term Sleep, the Rest or Repose of the Animal Actions, because both th●… Vital, as the Pulses and the Breathing, and the Natural Actions, as the Concocti●… of the Ventricle, which are very well continued in Sleep, do not Cease, but are then more justly performed. As for Example, The motion or beating of the Heart is thought to be stro●… Sleeping than Waking.  
But as for the Matter of Sleep, I find it thus in a Modern Author Defined, So●…us est va●…r quidam benig●…us. Sanguinis, Spiritus, & 〈◊〉 Arteria, qui per venas ●…ugulares, & per arterias carotidas fer●…ur ad cerebrum & sensum commu●…em vincit. Sleep is a certain friendly Vapour of the Blood, the Spirit, and the mor●… humid Artery, which is conveyed by the jugular Veins and Carotid Arteries to the Brain, and make the Sensum commu●…em. This must be confessed to be some description or account of Sleep. There are therefore three requisites to a gentle and composed Sleep; a temperate Brain, a friendly Moisture, and a quiet Mind; for many tho' they sleep in all appearance, ye●…●…re disturbed in their Minds, as is evident from the Example of Dido, when in Love with Aeneas.  

—— Ph●…nissa nec unquam  
S●…lvitur in so●…os oculis, nec pect●…re N●…ctem  
Accipit.———   
But she was quite Restless, and without Sleep.  
As to the efficient Cause of Sleep, I think it the Brain, which is the first Sensory, though Aristotle makes the Heart so. Whence I believe, proceeded our common Saying when we are very much disposed to Sleep, that our Heart's a Sleep. 'Tis therefore the Refrigeration or Cooling of the Brain that causes Sleep, as th●… Calefaction, or Warming of this first Sensific, is the cause of our Awaking, and keeping Awake. The former Author tells us— Somnus fit cu●… sese (quamvis non quiescat) relaxat primum Sen●…cum, quo Spiritus animales redintegr●…tur. Hoc auctem 〈◊〉 à blandioribus vaporibus s●…blatis Sanguin●… ac suavi pit●…ta in cerebrum: Quibus refriger●…is, & in roscidum 〈◊〉 coactis, nervor●…●…eatus o●…tur & quasi boligantur.  
The chief end therefore of Sleep is, the restoring of the animal Spirits; and that the Actions of the whole Animal acquire new Strength, and begin afresh: As 'tis in Ovid.  
Q●…d c●…t alterna requie, durabile non est  
Hoc reparat vires, fessaque 〈◊〉 ●…vat.  
But besides this primary and chief end or effect of Sleep, there are others, as that the Coction of the Ventricle may be the better effected, and the Distempers and their Symptoms mitigated: For Sleep better concocts our Nourishment, mitigates the Matter of Distempers, and lessens all Symptoms. This is the reason that Children ●…e often Cured of very great Sicknesses by Sleep ●…lone.  
But not to enter into a Discourse I'm so very 〈◊〉 qualified for as this, I'll pass to a more plea●…t and easy Task; I mean; the Religious use ●…he Ancients made of Sleep, and the manner of ●…ring Distempers of the Priests of Aesculapius or 〈◊〉, heretofore; to whom whilst they slept 〈◊〉 their Chapels, those Medicinal Gods, dis●…s'd their Remedies for the Distempered that ●…ght their help, and Advice to those who ●…ght their Counsel. Thus Quartilla in Petro 〈◊〉 Arbiter tells Encolpius and 〈◊〉, that she ●…d sought Help of the God Priapus in her Sleep, ●…r her Ag●…e, and Encolpius Comforts her in these ●…ords a little after, when she desired they should ●…ot divulge the Secrets of the Rites of Priapus, ●…hich they had seen, Nam neque (says he) s●…cra ●…quam 〈◊〉, & si quod praterea aliud ●…emedium ad Tertianam Deus illi 〈◊〉, ●…turos nos Divinam providentiam, vel 〈◊〉 ●…stro. That none of 'em would divulge the ●…ites of her God, but on the contrary, would 〈◊〉 the expense of their own hazard endeavour 〈◊〉 assist his divine Providence, if he should reveal any other Remedy for the cure of her Ague. And S●…tonius in the Life of V●…spasian, says, Orantes ope●… valitudine demonstrat●… a Serapide per quiet●… restituturum oculos, si inspuiss●…. This was a common thing in Antiquity to take the Responsa, or Answers of the Gods by Dreams, for Ille incubat Jovi, signifies, He sleeps in the Capitol, to receive the Oracles or Answers of that God. Thus the Sick used to sleep in the Templ●… of Aesculapius, to receive Remedies in their Sleep from him. There was a famous and celebrat●…d Temple of Aesculapius in Epida●…ras, to which the Sick used to go on Pilgrimage from several Places. Extraordinary Examples of this kind of Cures one of your Profession (which ha●… yielded the World abundance of Learned, Ingenious and Witty Men) produces the first Cha●… and first Book De arte Gymnastica; I mean, Hieron. Mercurialis. He will have it that Hypocrates formed his Body of Medicine from these Nocturnal Revelations of the Gods; that is from the Tables that were hung up in the Temples, with an account of them. An tota●… (says he) Medicina partem, qu●… ad sanos & victus ratione●… pertinet, ex ta●…ellulis, aliisque do●…riis Aesculapii Templo dicatis Hypocrates con●…averit? An. ver●… tota●… in c●…andis Morbis versantem Clinecem vocatam, quemadmodum Varro, Strabo, atque Plinius, cr●…didisse videntur, mihi plane co●…rtum non est: Nisi quod fuit ●…os liberatos Morbis in Templo eju●… Dei, quod auxiliatum esset scriberet. Isque impri●…is illis temporibus usque ad Antonini Imperatoris at atem, non modo in Graecia, verum etiam in Italia per●…uravit. Uti pr●… caeteris, ex Ta●…ella Marmor●… Romae in Aesculapii Templo in Insula Tiberina inventa, & usque in hunc diem apud Maephaeos' conser 〈◊〉, intelligere licet, in quae Graece haec leguntur. I am not certain (says he) whether Hypocrates Co●…pos'd all that part of the Medicinal Art, which relates to the ordering of both Health and Diet, one of the little Consecrated Tablets and other Gifts in the Temple of Aesculapius, or only that part of the Curing of Distempers which is nominated Clinic, as Varro, Strabo and Pliny seem to have thought: But that 'twas a Custom for the Sick to write in the Temple of that God the Remedy that had Cured them; which Custom continued to the time of Antoninus, not only in Greece, but also in Italy, as we ●…ay above all others understand from the Marble Table found in the Templet of Aesculapius in Rome, 〈◊〉 the Tiberine Island, and preserved till this day by the Maphaei, in which this that follows is in Gre●….  
1. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. In these days he gave an Oracle to one Claudius' ●…at was Blind, that he should come to the Sacred Altar, and kneel down; and then come from the Right side to the Left, and p●… five Fingers on the Altar, and lift up his Hand and put it on his own Eyes: And he saw perfectly in the Presence of the People, who Congratulated him, and Rejoiced, tha●… such great Miracles were performed under our Emperor Antoninus.  
2. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. The God gave an Oracle to Lucius, that had 〈◊〉 Pain in his Side, and was despaired of by all Men●… that he should come and take Ashes from the Altar and mix them with Wine, and put them on his Side upon which he Recovered, and returned his Thanks t●… the God, and the People Congratulated him.  
3. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Julianus vomiting Blood, being despaired of by 〈◊〉 Men, received an Oracle from the God, that he shou'●… come and take off from the Altar Pine-Apples, an●… eat them for three days with Honey, and he Recovered, and publicly in the Presence of the People gav●… Thanks.  
4. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. The God gave an Oracle to Valerius Ap●…r, Blind Soldier, That he should come and take the Bloo●… of a White Cock, and mixing it with Honey, compose a Medicine for his Eyes, and wear it for three days on them; and he saw, and came and Publicly returned Thanks to the God.  
And I guess (continues Mercurialis) by these verses of Tibullus, that the same used to be done in the Temple of Isis.  
Nunc dea, nunc succurre mihi jam posse mederi,  
Picta docet Templis multa Tabella tuis.  
You may find more of this kind in Joseph Scaliger, in his Indicibus Inscriptionum antiquarum, a Grutero Collectarum. And indeed this seems to be something of the Practice of the Jews, to take Divine Oracles as they slept in the Temple: For thus I find it in the 3d. Chapter of the First Book of Samuel, ver. 3. Samuel slept in the Temple of the Lord, where the Ark of God was. 4. Then the Lord called Samuel, and he answered and said, Here I am. We may gather from Geor Fabricius, that this Custom of sleeping in Temples or Churches, is still continued in Italy; for he says be observed at Milan, young Country Fellows and Lasses, to lie in the Church of St. Anthony on a certain Night.  
And now I think 'tis time to Wake, having rambled as if in a Dream, from one thing to another; from my just Acknowledgements, to my Emperic Exploit; from thence to the Medicinal Power of Sleep, and thence to its Religious Use: So that if I would not have you Sleep too in spite of the Variety, I must conclude here as always, that I am,  
SIR, Your extremely Obliged Friend and Humble Servant, Char. Gildon.   

To LUCINDA.  
May the 10.  
I Received yours this Morning, which has put me so much out of Humour, that it ought to be no wonder if I writ in a Style different from my former. I told you in mine, the Judgement of the Men of Sense, of your Beloved Athenians. I have the Honour to know some of the greatest Wits, and best Judges of Sense and Learning; who unanimously agree in as contemptible an●… Opinion of them, as they express of their Adversaries at all Times.  
But after all, Madam, I shall be very little concerned if you put the worst Construction you can upon my Demeanour in this Business, since 'tis pardonable in me, who, you know owned myself for a little necessary Dissimulation, till you made me a Convert to universal Sincerity, which I'll always preserve for the future. But I never pretended my Life exempt from Faults or Follies— No, on the contrary, I confess I have been more guilty of both, than most; and among that Number, I reckon this and some other foolish Trifles that shall be Nameless: But I design to set a stricter Guard on my Words and Actions for the future, and not let any Buy Respect betray me to say or do any thing I may repent of without the Power of retrieving. This Change I partly own to some Inconveniences I have drawn on myself by Inconsideration; though I own to you, even now, that I chief own it to your well-acted Sincerity. You drew I confess, Madam, the aimable Picture of a fine Woman (I wrong the Noble Idea you gave me of yourself, by giving it the Title of Woman) And oh! that the Lovely Piece had charmed your Heart as it did mine; it won me so entirely, that I hope I shall never act contrary any more to the divine Virtue of Sincerity; from which, Madam, I must tell you, with a great deal of Distraction, that you extremely, deviate, who could in your last assure me, that you made no Enquiry about me, when to my certain Knowledge, you could not know me to be the Author of that Book but by a very nice Enquiry. Woman indeed, was so well known to me, that 'twas my Fault to be so monstrously imposed on, as to believe there could be any one of the Sex qualified with a Virtue so opposite to a Woman's Nature as Sincerity. That indeed, was the golden Work, the Chemistry of my Conversation has been so long in Chase of; and oh! you made me fond believe I'd found the mighty Treasure in you because you glittered: But alas! the golden Fantom vanished like those deluding Hopes, and I find a Woman of Wit and Sense exalted with Sincerity, is as mere a Fancy as the Philosopher's Stone. That was the Beauty that chained my Soul to Mirtilla, and made me value her above all Sublunary Goods; that made me sigh for the Enjoyment of her Conversation; but now the gay vision'●… past, and you have waked me to find you a very, very Woman.  
I have been too tedious on this Paragraph of your Letter to give a precise Answer to the rest, I shall reserve that till another Time, and only now tell you, First, That you do me but Justice to think no worse of me for the Declaration of a Truth, you desired to know, with all the Sincerity in Nature; for Madam, I must always own 'twas such a Vencration I had for you, that I could not but be free and sincere with you. Next, That Liberty like Religion is a Word of a double Meaning, and ●…qually pernic●…ous to Human Kind. Mistake me not, Madam, I mean as to the villainous Use that has always been made of both; not as to true and real Religion and Liberty, which I'm for as much as any, and am so good a Patriot, that I'd rather be tortured an Age for the least good of my Country, than do the least Action against the r●…l Interest of it. Lastly, That though it would yet be extremely grateful to be admitted to your Conversation, yet since you obstinately persist to have it so, I must submit to your Conditions, but I desire you would put me to as little Expense of Patience as you can, because I still earnestly desire to obtain what I have with such Ardour requested, that is, the Conversation of Mirtilla, in Hopes to make you by my real Sincerity my Convert, as your pretended Sincerity made me yours; which would be an extraordinary Happiness to  
Madam, Your Humble Servant, and Sincere Friend, Lycides.   

A Short View of Old Rome, in a Letter to URANIA.  
NEver wonder at Ovid's Trouble for being Banished from Old Rome, since we find that St. Augustine made it One of his Three Wishes, to have seen it in all its Glory; as it was when Ovid lived. I'll give you but an imperfect View of it, as I can collect it from Pliny, and you'll confess it raises in you a most Magnificent Idea; what must then the Noble Remains that were in St. Austin's Time give him?  
I will begin with the Grand Ci●…co built by Julius C●…sar, a Work not of Ages, but of a few Years (for he Reigned but five, reckoning from his first coming to Rome after his passing the Rubicon.) It was Three Furlongs in Length, and one in Breadth; surrounded with Magnificent Buildings, able to contain two Hundred and Sixty Thousand Spectators. The Palace of Paulus, all adorned with Phrygian Columns. The Temple of Peace built by Vespasian with all the Beauty, Art, and Expense could bestow. The Pantheon built by Agrippa, to Jove the Avenger, when Valerius Ostiensis a famous Architect, had covered that Theatre in which Libo exhibited Shows and Plays to the People of Rome. Can we admire the Expenses of the barbarous Kings, in the raising the Pyramids, when the very Ground for the Building the Forum cost C●…sar the Dictator in those Days, above Ten Thousand Sestertii; and if the Expense and dearness of things be of any Force. Publius Clodius who was killed by Milo, lived in a House that cost 1484 Sestertii, which seems to me to fall but little short of the Extragance of Kings in their Palaces; but in those Days the Romans were Admirers of any great Works however less beautiful, as the Vastness of the Ramparts of the Capitol, with its prodigious Foundations. I cannot omit the very subterraneal Magnificence of this ●…ity, even in the wondrous ' Conveyances of the Common-Shoars, so Spacious, that one might have Sailed under a Pendulous City, through Rocks, which have been Penetrated to let in seven Civulets, which flowed in with a rapid Course like a Torrent, to carry away all before them; which being increased and agitated by the Rains from above, beat and dashed against the sides with great Vehemency: Sometimes the River Tiber ran back into these Channels; where tho' the several Streams at their meeting fought and made a great deal of do, yet the firmness of the Pile and Buildings, resisted its unruly Force. These admirable Arches out braved Ages, Earthquakes and Ruins, from the time of Tarqvinius Priscus, to the Destruction of Rome; for that King it was that Built them; who when he undertook to perform a Work of that difficulty both for Length and Danger, by the Hands of the Roman People, put to Death all those that fled from the Fatigue of the Undertaking; for the pursuance and perfecting of which, he made use of a Remedy unheard of before or after; which was, That all the Bodies of the Citizens that were executed on this account, should some be fixed on Crosses and exposed to the view of the People, and others in their Presence given for Food to the Wild Beasts and Ravenous Birds; which produced this effect, that they that beheld 'em, struck with a shame to be daunted at any Undertaking, with a bold Zeal for the Honour of the Roman Name, which had often preserved them at the lowest ebb of Fortune in Battles, pushed on the Work with all the fervour imaginable; which the King observing, took hold of the opportunity to enlarge his Impositions upon them, making them extend those subterraneal Passages to that bigness and height, that a Cart very much loaden with Hay might easily pass through them. But all I have already said, is inconsiderable, if we compare it to one Miracle, which is this, When Marcus Lepidus and Quintus Catulus were Consuls, there was no Nobler Structure in Rome than the House of Lepidus himself; but within Thirty five Years after, that was not the hundredth part as big as innumerable Palaces that were then Razed. Marcus Scaurus, when he was Aidile, with his private Wealth and Abilities performed a Work beyond all that ever●… was made by any before, designed not for time, but Eternity; and this was a Theatre, in which were a triple order of Scenes to the height of Three hundred and sixty Columns, the lower part was of Marble, the middle of Glass (strange kind of Luxury!) and the uppermost were adorned with Golden Tablets, the Brass Statues betwixt these Pillar●…, were in in number Three thousand; and the Pitt itself was capable of holding Fourscore thousand Spectators. To this I may add a greater Prodigy, effected by Caius Curto, who followed the part of Julius Caesar in the Civil War; for when at the Funeral of his Father he saw he could not surpass Scaurus in Pomp, Wealth, Beauty, and Nobleness of the Structure, Magnificence of the Furniture and Decorations, resolved to outdo him in Ingenuity: Therefore he caused two most spacious Theatres of Wood to be made near to one another, and hung them on a Versatile Balance or Hinge; so in the Morning when the Plays were performed, they were Back to Back, (as I may say) but in the Evening after all the People were in them, they were whirled about on their Hinges, the Scenes of both descending as they met together, and Composed in a Moment an Amphitheatre, in which immediately were presented the Fights of the Gladiators. What can we most admire in this, the Invention; or the Inventor? The Artificer, or Designer? Him that durst imagine such a bold Effort, or him that could reduce it to Practice? But that which seems most strange to me, is, that the People should be so mad to venture themselves in so ticklish and uncertain a Seat. Behold, (says Pliny) This is that People that have Subjugated the whol●… Earth, which has stifled Kingdoms and Nations, and gives Laws to far Countries, a certain Part and Portion of the Immortal Gods, compared to the rest of Mankind: Behold them I say, swinging in a ponderous Machine, and clapping and loudly applauding to their own Danger. Behold all the Roman People aboard two Vessels as it were, which were only separated from Destruction by two Hinges that supported them, gazing at the Combats of the Gladiators, with Pleasure, though they were so near Perishing themselves if the Machine failed. What might not he have persuaded the Roman People to, who could so easily prevail with them to venture into a hanging Theatre, as if he intended to Sacrifice the whole Nation, at the Funerals of his Father, or at least bid fair for it. Had Caligula prepared such an Engine, he need not have been at the expense of so fruitless a Wish, as that all the Romans had but one Neck, that at one Blow he might Dispatch 'em. But after the Hinges were so worn by Use that they would no longer turn, he varied it and left it in the form of an Amphitheatre. After this, what need I tell you of the Golden Palaces of Nero and Caius, or the Aquaducts of the King Quintus Martius, or those Additions which Agrippa made to them when he was Aedile, who besides the Reparations of the Old, made Seven Hundred Lakes, and an Hundred and Five Fountains. Built a Hundred and Thirty Magnificent Hostels, and Adorned these Buildings with Three Hundred Statues of Brass and Marble and Four Hundred Marble Pillars, and all this in the space of One Year. And for the eternal Fame of his Aedileship, he gave Shows to the People for near Threescore Days, besides an Hundred and Seventy Bagnio's, as a free Gift; which Places were afterward increased in Rom●…, to an infinite Number. But the Aqueducts that were begun by Julius Caesar, and finished by Claudius, far surpassed the former. But if we should nearly consider the abundance of Water that was used in public, in Baths, Fishponds, Houses, Conduits and Gardens, in the Suburbs, and Villas as well as City, the Arches that were built to convey it, the Mountains that were cut through, the Valleys that were levelled, we must grant that there could be nothing more Admirable in the whole World. Next let me pass to the Rareties of Art, as the Statues and Obeliscs which were brought to Rome from abroad: First the Theban Obelisc, was made and erected by the Labour of Twenty Thousand Men: The King himself when it was set up, fearing that the Machine's would not be of sufficient Strength to support the vastness of the Weight, without an extraordinary Caution of the Workmen, to make them take the more care in erecting it, caused his Son to be fastened to the very top of it, that their Endeavours for his Safety, should conduce to the happy placing the Stone. The Prodigious Wonders of this Work made Cambyses when he took this City of Thebes, and came almost to the Pedestal of this Obelisc with Fire and Sword, to command the Flames to be extinguished, he being struck with Astonishment at so awful a Pile, who had no Compassion for the City its self. In Alexandria, P●…olomaeus Philadelphus set up one of Eighty Cubits, which King Nect●…is had caused to be hewn out of a Rock; but it proved much a greater Difficulty to carry it to its Place and erect it. Some say 'twas carried a Shipboard by the Famous Architect Satyrus. Others, that a Channel was cut from beyond the place where the Obelisc lay, under it, to the River Nilus; and then Two very broad Vessels joined together, and so deeply laden, that they might when they came up the Channel, go under the Obelisc, (it reaching like a Bridge, from one side of this Cut to the other) And being come exactly under it, they unloading them, by degrees the Vessels risen out of the Water, and so lifted up the Obelisc from the Ground, and thus bore it down into the Nile. Out of this same Mountain there is a Tradition, that Six were cut of the same Magnitude, and that the Master Workman had Fifty Talents given him for a Reward. But this Obelisc was set up in Arsinoe by the forementioned King, in Honour of his Wife Arsinoe, who was also his Sister; and from thence Maximus when he was Perfect in Egypt, Transported it, though such a vast and unwieldy Cargo for a Ship; and placed it in the Forum, having cut off the Top of it, designing to put one of Gold in its Room, which afterwards notwithstanding he neglected. There are Two more at Alexandria, in the Porticoes of the Temple of Caesar Forty Two Cubits high, which King Mesphees made. The chief Difficulty was to Transport them cross the Sea to Rome, in Ships of the First Rate. Nor must I omit that Obelisc which was placed in the Grand Circo by Augustus, which was made by King Semnesertes, in whose Reign Pythagoras was in Egypt: It was One Hundred Twenty Five Foot, and Three Quarters high, besides the Basis of the same Stone. But that which was in the Field of Mars, was made by Sesostris: Both contain Inscriptions of the Egyptians Interpretations of Natural things, by their Philosophy. This last Augustus applied to a wonderful Use, turning it to the Gnome of a Dial, receiving the Shadow of the Sun, and by it distinguished the Length of the Days, Nights and Hours, on the Pavement, which he had made to the Proportion of the Obelisc, and divided with Lines and Marks of inlaid Brass, on which the Shadow decreased and increased by degrees, and so artificially denoted the Motions of time. A thing says Pliny, in my Opinion, worthy the Knowledge of Posterity. There was another Obelisc in the Vatican Circo of Caius and Nero: And this alone amongst them all, wat broken in the making. The Son of Sesostris made this, as well as another of an Hundred Cubits in height, and Consecrated to the Sun by the Order of the Oracle for the Restoration of his Sight, after he had been Blind. There was a Statue of Hercules in the Beast-Market, which was for nothing so remarkable, as its Antiquity and Title; for 'tis said to be Consecrated by Evander to him: And it obtained the Name of Triumphal, from being Habited in Triumphal Garments, as often as there is any Triumph. The Statue of Janus with his Double Face, must not be forgot, consecrated to him by King Numa, which was Adored and Sacrificed to, both for War and Peace; his Fingers being so contrived, that they denoted in Three Hundred Sixty Five Days the Year and Age. Mum●…ius having Conquered Achaia, replenished the City with Statues: The Luculli too, brought not a few into it. Before the Burning of the Capitol by the Faction of Vitellius, there was in the Fane of Juno, a Dog carved in Brass licking of his Wounds, which was of such a noble Boldness, that the Value of it was beyond Purchase; and therefore Consecrated to the Goddess. In the Capitol was a Statue of Apollo, of that prodigious Height, that it was called a Colossus; and this was brought from Apollonia, a City in Pontus, by Marcus Lucullus: It was Thirty Cubits high, and cost One Hundred and Twenty Talents. Like this is that Colossus of Jupiter, Consecrated by Claudius Caesar. Besides, these in Rome, were an Hundred other Colossuses of a lesser Magnitude.  
To say nothing of the admirable Pictures that Pliny mentions, all far beyond Raphael, Angelo, Titian, and our Modern Artists, we may in short, Reflect, That Rome must indeed be a Divine Sight, whence all the Noblest pieces of Art that the Conquered World afforded, were Transported by the Conquerors to Rome, to contribute to its Majesty and Glory. Add to this the Politeness of the People Ovid left, and the Brutality of those he went to; and we may well cease to admire at his Impatience, and Flattery of his Persecutor Augustus, for a Return. But you may see a more perfect Draught of this City in Fabricius his Collation of Old and New Rome. I am,  
Madam, Your Friend and Humble Servant, Viridomar.   

To the Charming and Ingenious URANIA.  
I'll no more accuse my Fortune, Urania, since she has given me so generous an Antidote against all her Venomous Influence, as your Friendship, that furnishes me with a very satisfactory Retreat from all the violent Onsets of my ill Stars, where I can unload my Soul, and communicate all my Complaints. If I meet with Villai●…ies and Ingratitude, the common Offspring of Trust and generous Offices; I'm sensibly pleased, that I can with assurance of Pity, tell my Charming Friend my Pain. This is the occasion of this Letter; for, though I have no Villainy to complain of at this time, having had no Trust Betrayed; nor any Ingratitude to Resent, because I have not been in a Capacity of Obliging the Person I addressed to; yet have I still abundant reason to Sigh for the continual ill Luck that attends my Endeavours.  
I know Urania, you have often told me, that 'tis a very false Measure to judge of others by my own Inclinations; and your Advice, I must grant, carries a great deal of Reason; for whether my Inclinations are just or unjust, I'm ten to one in the wrong, when I judge of another by them; since Mankind differ not only in their Sentiments of the same thing, by the different Appre●…ensions each Man Naturally has; but the very Circumstances and state of our Affairs, give a various turn to our Sentiments; so that we differ not only from one another, but even from our Selves, as our Fortune altars our Condition. But when I was mistaken in Pollio, I followed a more common and received though not less fallacious Guide, than the former, that is, Report. Pollio has the Reput●…tion of a Generous Man, and may be so perhaps to others; but I'm sure he does not distinguish betwixt those who are and are not fit Objects for his Generosity. A pleasant Companion diverts and seasons our Hours of Conversation, and permits not our Judgement to weigh the Merits of the Person that affords us so agreeable an Entertainment. And this perhaps has misled Pollio, who has met with Ingratitude enough from some of that Character, whom he has highly Obliged; for perhaps, even I could almost grant were not unpleasant, if not witty Company. But Alas! one of Pollio's Experience should know, that Men of that Faculty, have seldom any just Notion of things, at least of Uertuae and Honour: They are their own Gods, and Sacrifice all to themselves; their very losest and gayest Hours, that one would think free from Design, are like the Miser's Presents to a young heir Apparent, only to draw some Advantage to themselves in Vanity or Interest. And I must say, I never knew one of these Witty Companions that ever abounded much with Sincerity. Not that I would extend this Observation beyond all Exceptions: But I'm sure Prudence should choose where there's less probability of Deceit. On the contrary I have courted his Friendship as well as Generosity; That with a real Desire, and This on no very great Matter, but have scarce met with a Return answerable to my Expectation. In short, Urania, 'twould be tedious to tell you all my thoughts of Pollio now; what they were when I wrote the following Verses, these will let you see; the effect they had, I shall conclude this Letter with.  

To POLLIO. The COMPLAINT.  

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

II.  
Why do I Live? Why hug my boundless Woe,  
When Friendly Death sets wide the Gate,  
That leads to a more happy State?  
For not at all to be,  
Is better than the ills of Life to know,  
When Priestly Barbarism does reign  
Almost in ev'ry Heart;  
And scarce one good Samaritan is found,  
That with one sordid Rag will part,  
To clothe the shuddering Wretch, or bind his gaping  
Why sooth I then my present Pain, (Wound.  
With the faint Shadow of a fansyed Ease,  
Rather than Cure the Disease,  
With Balmy Death, its sure and lasting Remedy?   

III.  
When th'ills of Life too great and numerous grow,  
They are the Summoners of Fate:  
And 'tis too foolish a Debate  
(Punished by present Pain)  
To argue if we should Obey or no.  
In torturing Dreams I've often found  
Myself with threatening Dangers compassed round.;  
O'er Hills I fly, o'er Vales, o'er Shades in vain,  
The fansyed Terror meets me when I light,  
Or close behind  
Pursues my Imaginary Flight:  
But when my Labouring Mind  
From near Destruction, can not Refuge find,  
I Wake, and all the racking Scene withdraws,  
The Horrors past, are lost in present Joys.   

iv  
So in the gloomy Dream of Life, I see  
My tattered Bark in Fortune's boisterous Sea.  
To ev'ry Wind in vain I shift my Sail,  
Sinister Faie allows no Prosperous:  
In vain I strive to reach the distant Shoar,  
For all around the angry Billows roar,  
And on each side increase th' unequal War.  
Ten thousand Waves, each big with certain Fate,  
On one poor sinking Bark with fury Beat:  
My Sails are useless, and my Rudder lost;  
By clashing Surges to and fro I'm tossed;  
Within no help; no Succour from without,  
Despair and Ruin him me round about.  
Approach then Death, this racking Scene destroy;  
Ah! Wake this Tempest-beaten wretch to long-  
(sought Calms and Joy.   

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

VI  
Lo! now the Heavenly Cause draws near;  
See, see the mighty Goddess Hope appear!  
Her fluid Robes, which subtle Threads compose  
(From the thin Brains of fond Projectors Spun)  
Her naked Beauties to the Eye disclose;  
Beauties far brighter than the Midday Sun;  
Fairer than Fancy e'er drew Womankind,  
Tho' the vain fancy of a Lovesick Mind.  
Her spacious Front, and her inviting Eye,  
Are filled with humble Majesty.  
False Joys around her smiling Visage Play,  
To soothe depending Wretches Pain,  
In spite of damned Delay  
And its long Melancholy Train.  
Her Head with Laurel, and with Myrtle's Crowned;  
With her left Hand where e'er she goes  
She thinly strews  
The warrior's and the Lover's Wreaths;  
But Courtiers flattering Promises,  
With liberal Hand she scatters all around.   

VII.  
Her right Hand boundless Stores does hold  
Of Liberty, of Happiness, and Gold.  
Which tho' she seem to promise every one  
That waits about her Visionary Throne,  
Yet fast she grasps the wished for Treasure,  
And does in scanty Portions Measure,  
To Few, and Late, the tardy Pleasure.  
A Thousand curling Clouds she sits upon,  
Of Colour various, and of Matter rare,  
(As Acme Beauteous, subtle as the Air;  
Soft as the Downy Bosom of that Charming Fair.)  
Exhaled from the Wanton Wishes of Mankind,  
And all the Numerous Vanities of his sickly Mind.  
Avarice, Ambition, Love, untasted Bliss,  
With all the gandy Train of fond Desire,  
The Bigots future Joy, and States-Man's coming  
That set the foolish World on Fire, (Happiness,  
The Pompous Pageant's mighty Frame support.  
numerous and vast is the Resort  
That throng her wide Imaginary Court.  
As far as e'er her friendly Beams extend,  
Ranged in their differing Stations they attend;  
All near, or distant, dart a longing Eye  
On this Loved flattering Deity.  
Beyond the reach of whose enlivening day,  
Beyond the Influence of one kind Ray,  
Despair in tattered sable Weeds Arrayed,  
Lurks with a ghastly Troop within the baneful Shade.   

VIII.  
Hark! hark! methinks her melting Voice I hear;  
Her Voice, that's softer far  
Than happy Lovers Billing Whispers are!  
Gently methinks the Goddess Chides  
My causeless fond Despair,  
While Pollio lives, who never Wretch denied  
That on his bounteous Nature yet relied,  
And spite of the effects of black Ingratitude  
To damp the generous Flame,  
Bounty and he are so the same;  
To imploring Want he must, nay will do Good,  
Let Galba Laugh, Eat, Drink and Whore,  
And in that thoughtless Circle spend his Store,  
And when he's Dead, be never thought on more.  
So let him die like other Sots and Brutes,  
Oblivion best a Life like Galba's suits.  
But since a more Heroic Fire  
Does wiser Pollio's Breast Inspire,  
And moves him to Dispense  
To drooping Poesy a kind Influence;  
Let him but cast one Smile on me,  
By which from Anxious Cares set free,  
In Verse Immortal led convey his Name,  
To the last Boundaries of Fame,  
And late Posterity should see him sit  
Among the Sacred Patrons of Almighty Wit;  
For of their Patrons, Poets have these Odds,  
They Poets make, but Poets make them Gods;  
To Mortal Glory, give Eternal Date,  
And rescue Merit from destructive Fate.    
By this last Stanza, my dear Urania, you find what I then thought of Pollio, but I must tell you, my opinion is much altered by his Carriage since. Not because he complied not with my Desires, but because he has not dealt like a Gentleman by me. If Ostentation be the Motive of his great Actions, and a present Vainglory be the mover of his Liberality, he has a great many of his Rank, that carry a mighty Name in the World; for few have learned this noble Maxim, that Virtue is its own Reward. And yet methinks the present Applause of Fools should not be grateful to a Man of Sense. But if Pollio had not that Nobleness of Spirit to do a private Good, yet methinks he should not submit to do a little thing, as you know some of his Demeano●…r to me was, especially in detaining what was trusted to his Virtue, without doing what was expected from that Trust. But I'll confine you no longer, Urania, to my Complaints, who am  
Your faithful Friend, Viridomar.   

Of the MOON.  
The History of the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, etc. In a Letter to my Learned and Ingenious Friend, Dr. Midgly.  
I Have lately been looking over again Bishop Wilkins his World in the Moon, and cannot but agree with him, as I formerly did, that 'tis most reasonable to think that Planet capable of Inhabitants, since we know 'tis a Solid Opacous Body; that the Light it has, is only Borrowed; and since the Discoveries made by the Telescope of Galileus, show that 'tis every way qualified for an Inhabitable World. But whether the Inhabitants be so much Wiser than us, as Cyrano Bergerai makes'em, I can't tell, neither am I willing to allow them that Advantage, since their Planet has such a dependence on our Earth, as to be obliged to move round us, as its Centre. I should rather agree with Ariosto, that makes it the Lumber House, or Repository of all things that are lost in this Earth of ours, even to the Wits of his Hero Orlando, Bottled up in Bottles, like the Virtuoso's Air: But than you will answer, if I allow the Moon the Receptacle of all that is lost on our Earth, that by consequence it must be the Juster, Honester, as well as Wiser Abode, since Honesty and Justice have long been lost here, as well as Wisdo●…. 'Tis true, Doctor, if the Inhabitants there are one jot the better for 'em, I must yield the Cause; but I hope our Virtues as well as Wits, are Bottled up from their use; else I should wish the Bishop I mentioned but now, had perfected his Discovery, and fixed a Correspondence betwixt us, for doubtless 'twould yield us abundance of Commodities needful for us, as well as Wit and Honesty.  
However 'tis, methinks we have a greater Image of this friendly moving Light of the Heavens, than the Primitive Poetical Philosophers: They made it but a Woman, but we a World, that contains perhaps some Millions of finer Women than Diana: Thomas 'tis probable not all so chaste, if they are not made of a much different Matter from that of our Earthly Ladies. Tho' I can't blame the Ancients for making it a Woman, from its Inconstancy, which is so natural a Folly of the Sex, that it must be thought Characteristical: And perhaps the Origin of this Fab●…lous Lady Moon, might be from some Aegypti●… Hieroglyphic of a Woman with a Crescent on her Head, to denote her changeable Nature and Affections.  
But whence-ever it came, they had Names enough at her Service, above an Hundred in number, too long to insert here. The Poets therefore gave her a Coach too: It was but a Coach and Two; whereas her Brother Phoebus had his Coach and Four. Manilius, lib. 5.  
Q●…drijugis & Phoebus equis, & Delia bigis.  
Ovid gives her a pair of White Horses, tho' others differ, and will have her drawn by a Mule, or young Heifers, or Horses of various Colours.  
They made her a Huntress, because assisting at the Birth of her Brother Apollo, made her hate all Men; for she was so Frighted at the Pains her Mother underwent, that she obtained of Jupiter (for nothing but a God could secure a Woman's Maidenhead) a perpetual Virginity, as Callimachus tells us. And Cicero in his Natura D●…orum, lib. 2. says she was Feigned to assist at the Birth of her Brother Apollo, though Born at the same Birth, because she came into the World before him. Jupiter therefore according to the same Callimachus, made her Goddess of Hunting, Highways and Havens, and bestowed on her Bow, Arrows and attending Nymphs, as so many Maids of Honour. Hence Horace,  

M●…tium cust●…s 〈◊〉; Virgo  
Qua labour ants vero puellas  
Ter vocata audis, 〈◊〉; let●…o,  
Diva trisor●…is.   
Callimachus says, Diana's Chariot is drawn by White Hinds. She often changed her Habitation, and had need therefore of some Vehicle, for now she was above in the Heavens, now beneath, among the Infernals. Nor is her Figure more certain than her abode, for as a Friend of mine has it,  

Now with a full Orb she the Darkness does Chase;  
Now like Whores in the Pit, shows but half of her Face.   
In Athens, the young Ladies that were so big with Child, that they could not wear their usual Girdle, or Zone, put it off in the Temple of Diana, whence she got the Appellation of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. To her were offered the Zones or Girdles of Women with Child, as the Garlands were to Venus at Marriages. This Goddess also presided over Fishers: And the Poets tell us that they used to Sacrifice Bullocks to her; but Horace Sacrifices a ●…oar to her, and Ovid a white Hind.  
She had a most Magnificent Temple at Ephesus, ●…amous for its Building, and remarkable for its Destruction; of which Natalis Comes gives us this Account. H●…it Diana 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Templorum, & Augustissimum Ephesinum, etc. The most Magnificent and Famous of the Temples of Diana was at Ephesus, which was Built by the care and Industry of all Asia, Two hundred and twenty Years under the direction of the Architect Chesiphron; it was Four hundred and twenty five Foot in Length, and Two hundred and twenty in Breadth; in ●…hich were an hundred and twenty seven Columns, erected by as many several Kings; and these Columns or Pillars were wonderful in their Length as well as Beauty, for they were sixty Foot in Height; thirty six of which were very Noble, and with incredible Art Carved with their several Chapiters' answerable to the Magnificence of the Pillars. Besides which, there were an abundance of exquisite Pictures and admirable Images or Statues, correspondent to the Grandeur and Magnificence of the Temple: All which Herostratus an Ephesian, set on Fire and Destroyed, to purchase to himself perpetuity of Name, since he cou'●… not effect it by his Virtues or Parts. This Combustion of Diana's Temple happened about the I●… o●… August, on the day that Alexander the Great, King of Macedon was Born, as Plutarch says in the Lif●… of that Prince. But the Ephesians made a Law●… that none should mention the Name of Herostratu●… for the future, under the most severe Penalties, so to deprive him of the enjoyment of that which he aimed 〈◊〉 the obtaining of by so great a Villainy. Thus fa●… Natalis. A Description of the Ruins of this Temple, and all the Cautions used by the Founder's o●… it against Earthquakes and other Expected Causes of Ruin, Pliny gives us in his Natural History.  
Among other Fables of her, the Poets make her in Love with Endy●…ion sleeping on Lat●…s, a Mountain of Garia, and that she Enjoyed him according to Catullus.  
Ut triviam furtim sub Latmia saxa relegens  
Dulcis ●…mor gyro devovet aerio.  
So weak was the Power of a God to keep her a Maid! Nay, they make her very Fruitful too, for besides Sons by this Amour with 〈◊〉, they give her fifty Daughters.  
Where three Ways meet, the Ancients used to perform the Rites of Hecate, who is called by three several Names, Luna, Artemis and Hecate. About the New of the Moon, the Richer sort used to send a Collation to those Places where three ways met, in the Evening, as a Supper for Hecate; but the Poor used to devour these Nocturnal ●…unkets of this Goddess, and give out, that she herself had eat them, as the Priests and their Tribe in Daniel; tho' indeed these Suppers were but very Parsimonious; so that an ill Supper got the Proverbial Name of a Feast for Hecate; for the Poetical Divinity taught that the Ghosts would subsist with very little Nourishment. But that Hecate was the same with Luna, ●…or Diana, is evident from several Places, particularly from Raphael Regius, in his Comments on the 7th Book of Ovid's Metam.  
And here I think 'tis time to make an end of this Lunary Essay, lest I be thought to take so much pains about her Goddess-ship for the Influence she has on me. I would not incur the Imputation of a Madman for her sake, whatever I might for the sake of some Earthly Cynthia, perhaps fully as Inconstant; and might deserve a greater variety of Names from her numerous Follies, than Diana from the several Places of her Worship. But whatever Influence the Ethereal or Terrestrial Cynthia's may have on me, I'm confident, that neither they, nor any other 'Cause can be Powerful enough to turn me to any thing that should diminish my Value and Esteem for you, or the pleasure I take in being what I shall ever Subscribe myself,  
SIR, Your Obliged and faithful Friend and Humble Servant, Charles Gildon.   

An ESSAY at a Vindication of the Love-Verses of Cowley and Waller, etc. In Answer to the Preface of a Book Entitled, Letters and Verses Amorous and Gallant.  
Directed to Mr. CONGREVE.  
AS in my two former Critical Discourses of this Book against Mr. Rymer's Short view of Tragedy, a Zeal for the Honour of my Country in its greatest Ornaments, her Poets, Engaged me; so here I cannot help challenging the same Pretence, since I can't suppose them deficient in Love, without derogating from the Justness of their Characters. But I must confess I have not the same hopes of Success in this; for there I had to do with an impotent Opiniator; but here with a Gentleman of a great deal of Wit and fine Sense. There I addressed to Parties already sensible of the Justice of my Cause; here to one who is prepossessed of the contrary. But on the other hand I have the greater satisfaction here of being Worsted by one whose Wit can better defend an Error, than I the Truth; and I'm of Opinion, that 'tis a nobler Fate to fall by the Hand of an Hero, than Conquer a Dastard Pretender. And tho' my Prudence might be called in Question by this Attempt, yet my generous Ambition will merit a Magnis tamen excidit Ausis. One thing I must possess you of in my favour, that my unhappy Circumstances allow me not time to use all the Caution I ought, or search all the Reasons might be urged in this noble Cause; so that I am not only Viribus, but Opibus impar: However, I hope the Design will gain me the Opinion of a Good English Man, if my Performance should not attain that of a good Critic, which will sufficiently compensate my trouble; for I should be prouder to be thought a Zealot for the Glory as well as Interest of my Country, than the greatest Wit, and most Learned Arguer.  
I shall never deny the Ancients their just Praise of the Invention of Arts and Sciences; but I cannot without contradicting my own Reason, allow them the Perfecters of 'em so far that they must be our uncontroverted Patterns and Standard: For our Physicians have found the Prescripts of Hypocrates very Defective: And as in Physic, so in Poetry, there must be a regard had to the Clime, Nature, and Customs of the People; for the Habits of the Mind as well as those of the Body, are influenced by them; and Love with the other Passions vary in their Effects as well as Causes, according to each Country and Age; nay, according to the very Constitution of each Person affected. This makes me hope, that the Ingenious Author of the Letters and Verses Amorous and Gallant, guides himself by a fallacious Rule, when he makes the Ancients the Standard of the Excellence of the Moderns (or indeed when by exalting those, he wholly deprives these of all Honour) in Love-Uerses. His Charge is reducible to these two Heads, viz. The Occasions and the Performances. He will have it, that the Occasions on which their Poems are written are sought out, and that none meet with 'em but themselves, whilst those of the Ancients are such as happen almost to ev'ry Man in Love. Next, That the Verses of the Moderns, are filled with Thoughts that are indeed Surprising and Glittering, but not Tender, Passionate, or Natural for ev'ry Man in Love to think. This is the sum of his Charge against 'em; of which in the Order I've placed 'em. First, As for the Occasions; I cannot remember any Subject chosen by either Cow or Waller, (for we've nothing to do here with Petrarch a Foreigner) that seems to be sought out, or unnatural for a Man in Love to choose; and if some of 'em do not happen to ev'ry Man in Love, they are yet on an equal Bottom with the Ancients, many of whose Subjects or Occasions, are far from happening to all Lovers, as none who can pretend to any knowledge of their Writings can deny. Corinna's Parrot died, and Ovid writes its Funeral Elegy; but sure none will contend that this is an Accident common to all Ladies who have Lovers, and those Poets too. Catullus addresses one Copy of Verses to the very Sparrow of Lesbian, and in another deplores its Death. A great many Lovers may have Mistresses who never take a Voyage during their Amour, and yet Ovid has an Elegy ad Amicam Navigantem; and so may ten thousand true Lovers, especially such as are Poets, never venture on any other Billows, but the Frown of their Fair ones; and yet Propertius tossed in another Storm, Writes to Cynthia upon it. And indeed to reduce the Subjects or Occasions of Love-Uerses to any particular Standard, is highly Irrational, and must only be the effect of want of Consideration, for the various Circumstances and Fortunes of the Lovers must diversify and alter the Occasions of writing to their Mistresses: So that there is no Occasion that is General, and that can reach all Men in Love, but the Cruelty of their Mistresses on their first Addresses, (that is, their not immediate Compliance) for Jealousy is not Universal, or at least to extend to the Beating of her a Man Loves; yet Ovid Writes ad Amicam quam verberaverat. I must confess, I can't see the least Reason why the Name and Gloves of a Mistress, with the Place of her Birth, are not as just Occasions to Write on as the Ring given to a Mistress, or her Parrot or Sparrow; or a great many more I might enumerate out of the Ancients. A true Lover thinks ev'ry thing that belongs to her he Loves, worthy his Thoughts; and the more our Modern Poets extend their Reflections beyond the Ancients in this, so much the greater Lovers they show themselves. But the Place of one's Mistress' Birth is not only worthy a Lover's Thoughts, but even an Universal Occasion, since no Lover but must meet with that Occurrence in whatever fair one he adores, among all the beauteous Daughters of Eve.  
By what has been said, Sir, 'tis evident that our Moderns are not inferior to the Ancients, in their Judgement in choosing Occasions on which they writ to their Mistresses: Or, That this Ingenious Gentleman has either through Want of Advertence, or out of Design expressed himself ambiguously, or at least not with that Clearness that is requisite to a conclusive Argument; which cannot be excused when the Honour and Merit of such great Men as Cowley and Waller is concerned; nay, the Honour of our Country.  
I come now to the Second Accusation, which is, that the Moderns fill their Verses with Thoughts surprising and glittering, but not natural for ev'ry Man in Love to think. This lies under the same Fault as the other does, of being too general to be of any Force, it either condemns all that the Moderns have wrote, it casts off ev'ry Thought in their Love-Verses as not tender and passionate, or does nothing at all, for it instances no particular. I'm confident the ingenious Gentleman will have so much Candour, as to confess that there are a great many very tender and soft Thoughts, and passionate Expressions in Cowley's Mistress, as in this one, that now occurrs to my Mind: Then like some wealthy Island thou shalt lie, etc. but if there be some, nay, a great many tender, soft, and passionate thoughts in our Moderns, then is this general charge not at all conclusive against 'em. Besides, Thoughts natural to a Man in Love, is an obscure Expression, it conveys no clear Idea of any thing to the Mind; or, what is fully as erroneous, it seems to levelly the Thoughts of all Mankind, but it cannot be doubted, but that in the very same Circumstances the Thoughts of different Men will be various, and more or less Excellent and Noble, as the Wit, Judgement, Fancy, and the other Qualities of the Mind of the Person affected, are more or less Excellent and perfect: And I am confident your ingenious Friend (whom I honour for his Wit, though I differ from his Opinion) will allow me, That one of Mr. Cowley's Genius would no more have the Thoughts of a Fop, a Beau, a Tinker, a Shepherd, or any other ignorant and unelevated Mechanic, in Love, than out of it. Again, Thoughts surprising, and glittering without particular Instances of 'em, as they prove nothing, so can they not be well answered, for an Instance would have made us apprehend what he takes for surprising and glittering; but without that, or any Definition, we wander in the dark, and I can at best but only guess at his meaning. If by Thoughts surprising, and glittering he means extraordinary and uncommon, I'm apt to think he will allow them very natural to Mr. Cowley or Mr. Waller in any Circumstance. A Man that is used to a good Habit of thinking, cannot be without extraordinary Thoughts, on what concerns him so near as the Heart of his Mistress. Lastly, As to far-fetched Similes, 'tis an Expression very obscure and ambiguous; and I must acknowledge myself wholly to seek in his Meaning, if a Simile be just, and hold an exact Analogy to the thing 'tis applied to, and of the thing 'tis designed to heighten, I presume it cannot come into the Number of the far-fetched, and whenever the Gentleman will please to instance in Particulars in either Cowley or Waller, I engage to fellow them with those that are full as faulty, even according to his own Definition, let that be what it will, (for I suppose it can't be much amiss from so accurate a Pen.) And till then I may supersede any particular Defence in this. Besides, 'tis not to be supposed, that the Verses written by Lovers are the Extempore Result of a sudden Gust of Passion, like the Inspirations of the Delphic Prophetess; for I'm confident he'll agree with me that the Excuse of Love will not free a Poet, that lets them pass so from the Censure of Boileau  
Un so●… en ecrivant, fait tout avec plaisir  
I'll na point en ses verse l'ambarras de Choisir.  
A Poetising Lover, must be allowed not to be absolutely out of his Wits, and that 'tis possible for him to study, and consider what he says in so solemn a Manner to his Mistress.  
After this bold Assertion without Proof, he advances to examine which are in the right, the Ancients or the Moderns; the Rule of our Judgement in this, he justly makes the End the Poet aims at, viz. The obtaining the Love of his Mistress, though I cannot see why he should suppose that contrary to, or inconsistent with getting Fame and Admiration, since Admiration is a certain Step to Love. When I read Mr. Dryden's Works, I cannot help Loving him. If I should not love and respect him and any other Poet that thinks well, and expresses his Thoughts nobly, I should sin against my Reason. Ovid urges his Fame and Reputation as a Motive for his Mistress' Love, and if that can move a Man of Sense, why should we think the Effect would not be the same on a Woman of Sense, and Generosity? And indeed, in ev'ry one but an absolute dull, insipid Fool, which no Lover can think his Mistress.  
The End of Love-Verses being the gaining the fair ones Heart, he proceeds to the best means of obtaining that End, viz. The convincing her that you love her. I must deny this Assertion too, for though Love in the Severity of Justice require Love; yet is that an Argument that ought not always to prevail, since 'tis a Plea that's common to a great many, for so the fair one ought to surrender to 'em all; a Liberty no Lover would willingly allow his Mistress on any Consideration whatever. But how often does Experience tell us, that this best Way fails? Or indeed, how seldom does it hit? Admiration is the only just, and unquestioneable Parent of Love; for the Senses or the Mind must be first won with some Perfection, either real or imaginary. Whatever therefore can ravish Fame from the envious censorious World, may justly be supposed able to give Admiration to a Mistress. Nor is this inconsistent with the true and lively Representation of the Pains, and Thoughts attending the Passion of Love; for sure the Advantage of Art in Poems cannot destroy the End which is not to be obtained in Painting without it, viz. a lively Representation of Nature. Similes, ●…ne Thoughts, and shining Points, if they be just, and good, must certainly give a greater Idea of any Pain, than a bare and unpolished Rhyme, without Beauty or Grace. This gives us a weak, a faint, an unmoving Vi●…w of the Pain; That sets it close to us, magnifies and enlarges it: This gives it you as the reverse end of a Prospective Glass does Objects, That as the right end of it; so that if a Representation of our Pain be the Path to Success, Art will be no ill Help and guide in it; unless we'll suppose that our Mistress would be more sensibly touched with a Grubstreet Ballad, than a Copy of Verses by a Cowley or a Waller. But indeed, the Pain a Lover feels cannot be truly, and with Life represented without Similes, as is evident from the very Nature of the Mind, when in ●…ain: For 'tis an universal Measure of our Judgement of things to compare them with something else; and the Mind in expressing its Pains endeavours to make it known in its full Greatness: to give therefore the greater Image of it, it generally seeks out something by a Comparison of which it hopes to obtain that End; Comparison being the only Distinction of Degrees of things. This makes it narrowly in these Circumstances, regard and observe that Train of Ideas that continually pass before it, to call out such as are most proper for its purpose: For 'tis evident, (as Mr. Lock remarks) to any one that will but observe what passes in his own Mind, that there is a Train of Ideas constantly succeeding one another in his Understanding, as long as he's awake. An Assertion therefore of an Ingenious Friend of mine, to the Prejudice of the Moderns, against Similes in the Expression of the Passions of Love and Grief, is contrary to the very Nature of the Mind. For let any Man endeavour to retain any particular Idea firmly and without Alteration, he will sinned it not in his Power to do it any considerable time, such a necessary Succession and Variation of Ideas (the Origin of Similes) is there in the human Mind. But because 'tis said that 'tis the nature of Grief to confine the Soul, straiten the Imagination, and extremely lessen the Number of its Objects, I shall only oppose the Assertion of this Gentleman (whom I have always allowed a Man of great Wit and Sense) with an Observation of Mr. Le Clerk, (whom I'm sure no Man that knows his Works, will deny to be one of the best Philosophers of the Age) in the 6th. Chapter of his Ontologie and the 4th. Paragraph, he has to this purpose— This being so, we observe that the time seems short to those who spend it in Mirth, or any Employment they perform with Pleasure and Desire; but on the contrary, Tedious and Irksome to the Unfortunate, and those that are in Pain, or to those that are against their Wills, obliged to some troublesome Business. For we keep the Idea that is Grateful and Pleasant to us, as long without Variation as we are able, and thus by the viewing of the fewer Ideas, the time we spend in Pleasure and Content, seems the shorter; whilst on the contrary, our Minds endeavour to drive away a troublesome Idea, and strive to substitute some others in its room; Turning, Winding, Changing, Adding and Diminishing it, as the uncasie inquietude Prompts. Thus the time seems longer than it would do else, by that vast and numerous Train of Ideas, which, as I may say, show themselves en passant to the Mind, with an incredible Rapidity and Swiftness. From this just and rational Observation of Mr. Le Clerk 'tis evident, That Similes are not so unnatural in expression of Grief or Pain, as some Ingenious Gentlemen contend: For the Mind (especially that which is used to an Expression of its self in Allegory and Similes) will easily in this Number of Ideas, meet with some that will answer the End, the Mind is born to with so much Impatience and Desire: For 'tis here also evident, That Grief multiplies nor lessens the Number of the Objects of the Mind.  
From what has been said 'twill appear, That Similes cannot be an unnatural Expression of this Passion, or any Effects of it. I shall therefore proceed to those few particular Instances the Author of the Preface gives, by which he draws a short Parallel betwixt the Ancients and the Moderns. I am pleased, says he, with Tibullus, when he says, he could live in a Desert with his Mistress, where never any Humane Footsteps appeared, because I doubt not but he really thinks what he says: But I confess, I can hardly forbear Laughing, when Petrarch tells us he could live without any other Sust●…nance than his Mistresses Looks. I confess, I must even here descent from him too; for if you go to the Rigour or Severity of the Reason of both Expressions, they are equally impossible, and in Impossibilities as well as Infinites, there are no Degrees. For I can see no greater Probability of Living in a Desert where there were no Humane Footsteps, than on the Looks of a Mistress only; unless like 〈◊〉, he would feed on the Leaves of the Trees, and Grass of the Ground if there were any; which is not very kind to hope his Mistress would comply with. But supposing it impossible, is there any Necessity of a Lovers saying nothing that exceeds the Bounds of Possibility? especially in Poetry, where Hyperboles are justifiable almost to Extravagance. That certainly would be most unnatural of all, for the Thoughts of a Man really in Love, are naturally Extravagant even to Impossibilities; though poss●… quia posse videntur. The very Definition of this Passion in Ethics, shows it violent and exorbitant. But we may in favour of Petrarch and Mr. Cowley, (who make use of the same Thought) say that they mean the Diet of their Love, is a Look of their Mistress.  
I must confess, I'm extremely surprised to find your Ingenious Friend an Advocate for that which would make all the Sir Courtly's Compositions of the Nation, the Standard of good Verses; when he himself is really so well qualified to write like Cowley and Waller, and has by his own Practice in those Verses that are Published, better confuted his Preface, than all I can pretend to say.   

To my Honoured and Ingenious Friend Mr. Harrington, for the Modern Poets against the Ancients.  
AS the Justice and Generosity of your Principle, the sweet Agreeableness of your Humour, the Vivacity of your Wit, and the strength and force of your Judgement and Penetration, justly endear you to all your Acquaintance, so they qualify you for a Judge of the present Controversy betwixt the Moderns and the Ancients, for the Prize of Glory in Learning and Poetry. Monsieur Perault (whom I have not yet had the Opportunity to Read) has given it to the Moderns, Rapine to the Ancients: Mr. Rymer has with abundance of Indignation appeared on Rapin's side. I cannot determine whether Mr. Perault has been too partial to his own Countrymen, (an Error on the right side) but I'm sure Mr Rymer has been extremely injurious to his; which has made me perhaps, too angry with him in my former Discourses. But I assure myself that you are too good an Englishman, to let Friendship to any Man, bribe you to condemn those rough Effects of my Zeal for the English Nation. I will be more just than my Adversary, I will yield that Greece had Great Poets, notwithstanding all those monstrous Faults and Absurdities they abound with; though he will not allow the English any Honour, because they have been guilty of Errors. Nay, I'll say more, that the Poetry of Greece was her most valuable Learning, for that still maintains its Share of Glory and Esteem, whilst her Philosophy is now exploded by the Universal Reason of Mankind. Homer, Pindar, Sophocles and Euripides, will, as long as they are understood, preserve their Characters of Excellent Poets, though the Stagyrite with all his Volumes, is now shrunk from his Ostentatious Title of the Philosopher, to that of a good Critic, or Grammarian.  
Tho I grant the Grecians this, yet I cannot subscribe to the rest of the Hyperbolical raises some of our Modern Critics give them. For I confess, I can discover no such Universal Genius in Homer, as they contend for, as that all Arts and Sciences may be learned from him: Virgil seems to me, more generally Learned by far; and Mr. Cowley among our English Poets, may without Partiality, be put up for his Rival in the Glory of Learning. As for the Numbers of Homer, Rapine vastly extols their Variety, and yet confesses that to be the Property of the Greek Language, which makes it the easier Task for Homer to perform, and by consequence, lessens his Merit on that Account. But it cannot be denied that Virgil has as much Variety in this as the Roman Language would allow; and as was necessary for the Beauty of his Poem; and they are in his Descriptions especially, so well chosen, that they extremely contribute to the Image of the thing described; as Gemitus dedere Caverna: praruptus aqu●… Mons. The sound of the first makes u●… as it were hear the hollow noise the Spear of Lyacoon made in the Trojan Horse; the other Places in our View such a watery Mountain. Among our English Poets, none can compare with Mr. Dryden for Numbers: His Descriptions are all very perfect in all things; but his Numbers contribute not a little to the force and life of the Representation, for they carry something in them distinct from the Expression and Thought; as in his Description of Night, What an Image of a profound Stillness does this following Verse set before us,  
The Mountains seem to Nod their drowsy Heads!  
I have not room nor leisure at this time to make a thorough parallel betwixt the Ancients and the Moderns, and shall only cursorily runover the Heads. I have touched the Universality of Genius, and the variety of Numbers (this last being the Prerogative of the Language more than of the Poets.) Judgement I think is apparently the due of the Moderns, who I'm confident would ne'er have been guilty of those Absurdities the Ancients abound with. Thuy seem to have been Masters of but little Reason, when they made their Gods such limited and criminal Beings-Homer often digresses from the Hero, that is the Subject of his Poem, to entertain us with other Objects too remote from Achilles. You may, Sir, easily perceive that I press not so hard as I might on the Ancients; that I omit abundance of Improprieties, and Absurdities, ridiculous even to Childishness, because I would not be thought to rob the Fathers of Poetry of their just Value and Esteem; though I confess I am of Mr. St. Euremont's Opinion, that no Name can Privilege Nonsense or ill Conduct.  
The Enemies of the Moderns will not deal so Civilly with them. They deny them to be Poets because they have not strictly observed the Rules laid down by Aristotle, but by that they discover themselves either ignorant or negligent of the most chief and important end of Poetry, that is, Pleasure. Now, it cannot be denied but he is the best Poet who takes the surest means to obtain the end he aims at; in which, regard must be had to though Humour, Custom, and Inclination of the Auditory; but an English Audience will never be pleased with a dry, Jejune and formal Method, that excludes Variety as the Religious observation of the Rules of Aristotle does. And all those that exclaim against the ty some of our English Poets have taken, must grant that a Variety that contributes to the main Design, cannot divide our Concern: And if so, 'tis certainly an Excellence the Moderns have gained above the Ancients. This would appear plainer if I had room and time to instance in Particulars. The Plays Mr. Dryden has blessed though Age with will prove this; which if compared (as I hereafter intent) with those of Sophocles and Euripides, either for the Plot, Thought, or Expression, will gain him the Poet's Garland from those two Hero's of Old Greece.  
The Plagiarism objected to our Poets is common to the Ancients too; for Virgil took from Homer, Theocritus, and even Ennius; and we are assured Homer himself built upon some Predecessors: And tho' their thoughts may be something akin, yet they altar their Dress, and in all other things we are satisfied with the variety of the outward visible Form, tho' the intrinsic value be the same, as Mr. Congreve's Song has it, Nothing new besides their Faces ev'ry Woman is the same. In all things as well as Women the mere Variety of Appearance, whets our Desire and Curiosity. I am,  
SIR, Your Humble Servant, Charles Gildon.   

TO THE HONOURABLE GEORGE GRANVIL Esq  
An Essay at a parallel betwixt Philosophy, and the Love of Women.  
THo' I confess Horace has generally a very just Apprehension of Things, yet can I never agree with him in his notions of Happiness. Lib. 1. Epist. 6.  
Nil admirari prope res est ●…a Numici  
Solaque qu●… possit facere, & 〈◊〉 Beatum.  
for 'tis certain, that Happiness consists in Pleasure, but there can be no Pleasure, without a Gentle and agreeable Emotion of the Passion of Admiration, the Ground of Love and Joy, out of which all Pleasure is composed. As an instance of this Truth, it must be granted, that as Uirtue is the chief Basis of Humane Happiness, so 'twill never be embraced by any Man, that does not admire and esteem its Excellence. And in the same manner, the other parts of Philosophy lead us to Pleasure, by Admiration. For what pleasure is there in Physics, which proceed not from that agreeable Wonder given us, by the strange and surprising Variety, and force, we find in the Nature of corporeal Things? Wh●… Pleasure does Metaphysics afford, that is not built on our Esteem? (and Esteem is the only part of Admiration that contributes to Pleasure, for there's a Pain attends despising, which is the other Division of it,) what P●…easure I say have we in this study, but what is built on our Esteem of the valuable Certainty it furnishes us with in what ever it proposes? For there is nothing more sure than Abstract Ideas, the subject of Ontology or Metaplysies. Again in Pneumatology, does not the Contemplation of the Purer, and Superior Being's, to the very Supreme, and first cause of all that Exists, fill our Souls with excessive and amazing Delight and Wonder? Lastly, what Pleasure is there in Woman, that soft summary of Man's Happiness, which derives not its self from Admiration? Admiration, therefore is so far from being an Enemy to, t●…t it is the very foundation of our Happiness, whether we consider it in the Direction, or Aim and End of our Life, that is in Philosophy or Woman.  
Some Sir, may perhaps think I have made a very strange mixture, in joining Philosophy and Woman; tho' I'm confident, so much Wit, Youth, and all those other Accomplishments of a fine Gentleman, that render you the darling of both Sexes, will not let you think I have degraded Philosophy in it, which will appear from a short parallel drawn betwixt them.  
Philosophy is either employed in the Consideration of bodies, as in Physics 〈◊〉 of Being's in general, or Abstract Ideas, as in Metaphysics or Ontology; or of Pur●… and Immaterial Essences, as the Souls, Angels, God, as in Pneumatology, or lastly of Uirtue as in Ethics.  
First, the Business of Physics is extremely un●…ertain, for there the Mind is employed about ●…ery Obscure Ideas; and though some of our Ex●…eriments, often present us with certain Effects, ●…et does it not always discover the absolute cer●…inty of the Cause, nor shall we ever be able to pe●…etrate into the inmost Nature, or all the qualities of Matter, and till than we must be in the dark, 〈◊〉 to the true Causes; so that Physic's put us up●…n the chase of what we have very little proba●…ility of obtaining. On the other Hand, the ●…ove of Woman is more certain in obtaining 〈◊〉 well as more noble in its End, viz. a perfect ●…njoyment of, and a close Union with the Ob●…ct desired, the effect of which ends not with ●…em, but is perpetuated by their Offspring, who ●…e a part of 'em, the admirable and certain Ef●…ct, of a known Charming, and Generous ●…ause.  
Secondly, Metaphysics amuses us with mere Abstract Ideas, whilst the Love of Woman, put●… us in a sensible Possession of a Real, not Ideal Abstract of all the Beauties and Perfections of every Being on this side of the Eternal. The Contemplation of whom, with the Created Spirits makes up Pneumatology; but we wander in too uncertain a Path, in our Contemplation of these latter, to arrive at satisfaction; for Fancy there directs ou●… steps more, than Judgement built on Right Reason, and Evidence. And therefore that part canno●… be comparable to that of the Love of Woman, which gives us by the most prevailing way, the Senses, a proof of the Existence of Spirits, if not distinct f●…om, yet of a purer Make●… than even the refined Body of Woman; for wha●… Lover is there that does not feel, perfectly see●… some unseen Spirits da●…ted from the bright Eyes o●… the fair one he adores, which have a sensible influence on him, tho' he touch her not; and thes●… are Spirits that cheer, not shock our Natures, a●… those other Phantoms do.  
Then for the Contemplation of the Supreme Being, the best Philosophers form an Idea o●… him by his W●…ndrous Works, of which what ca●… give a fairer I●…ge of him, than Woman, the most Beautiful, Good, and Compassionate being of the Universe? Which made St. Austin compar●… God to a fine Woman viewing her own Perfection in a Glass. 'Tis true that the Admirable Order and Oeconomy of the Celestial bodies, their Glory and Light discover apparent Foot steps of the Eternal Mind: these show us a powerful and a wise Being, but nothing has a share of his best attribute of Goodness, but the best part of Man, Woman, his own Image. Besides, the Consideration of the Universe is as I may say a voluminous Introduction to the Contemplation of that Being: we are forced there to run through objects distinct, and various in their Forms and Beauty, as well as vastly distant in their situation, which all contributes to the Confusion and Imperfection of the Image they present of the Power and Wisdom of God; and the Administration of Humane Affairs is a too tedious, as well as a too controverted argument of his Goodness. But Woman gives us at once a Beautiful and more Compendious prospect of his Power, Wisdom and Goodness; for as Pliny says, never are the works of Nature so admirable as in small things, and Woman is the Minature draught of all his Attributes that are communicable to his Creatures; for in one fine Woman we may read the legible Characters of an Almighty Hand. From whom also had I time and room, I could draw the knowledge of the Moral Attributes of the first Cause.  
Lastly, Ethics teach us the Rules and Prescripts of Virtue, to secure us from those Inquietudes, the Criminal and Vicious Experience: but this is only subservient to, and prepares us for the enjoyment of Woman, in a more perfect Degree; for it contracts and calls home all our Wand'ring Wishes and our lose Desires, and directs them all to one Object, which like the Sunbeams contracted into a burning Glass, must be of far greater Force, and by consequence, give a greater and more exalted Relish of Delight, than when scattered and dissipated.  
Ethics only informs the Mind with a bare knowledge of Virtue, without having power to influence us to the embracing of it, for there are a great many that with Medea in Ovid may say,  
— Video meliora proboque  
Deteriora sequor—  
but Woman can effect what Philosophy is impotent in; for whilst that proposes the mere unactive Theory, the Love of Woman reduces it to Practice, for when that is necessary to please her a Man loves, all the Faculties of the Soul unite to effect the noble Work.  
'Tis methinks such an Arraignment of the first Cause to run down that Sex, which Heaven has made choice of to impart to so large a share, in giving Immortality to Humane Race by the propagation of our kind, that they deserve not to taste that Pleasure that is joined to so mighty a work. The greatest Pleasure in the noblest Act, with the di●…est of Creatures Woman.  
But whether Philosophy or Woman have the right of Precedence, 'tis certain they both afford us a Noble and agreeable Pleasure, without one or both, of which we can never be truly happy. But yet by the Nil admirari of Horace, they are thrown aside; for the cutting off Admiration, deprives us of all Pleasure in either, that in both being built on Admiration. And indeed, this passage seems to aim at a Stupid, and Pyrr●…onian Indifference, or Indisturbance and Insensibility, which can no more be arrived at, than 'tis to be desired.  
But perhaps I mistake the sense of Horace, who it may be is only against that variable and wavering Admiration, that is the Mother of Ten Thousand fruitless Inquietudes and Troubles, by generating too numerous a Progeny of restless Desires for every object that presents itself. This I confess is so far an Enemy to Happiness, as 'tis to Constancy and Resolution its safe guard, and which are so eminently conspicuous in you.   
FINIS.   

ERRATA.  
PAge 17. Line. 3. read thus. p. 1●…. l. 14. r. his. p. 36. l. 〈◊〉. deal the ad. th●…. p. 37. l. pe●…l. r. t●…. p. 41. l. 〈◊〉. r. p●…ely. p. 43. l. 1. r. be 〈◊〉. l. 3. add rashly or ma●…sly. p. 44. l. 5. r. Yours. etc. l. 1. p. 45. l. 10. r. his. p. 46. l. 17. r. 〈◊〉. p, 47. l. 〈◊〉. r. 〈◊〉. p. 50. l. 13. add the p. 54. l. 6. r. containing. p. 55. l. 17. deal 〈◊〉. p. 66. l. 11. r. 〈◊〉. p. 72. l. 3. 5. an. p. 83. r. Reputation. p. 84. l. 1. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. p. 110. l. 9 r. 〈◊〉. p. 197. l. 8. r. Fl●…ods. P. 195. l. 〈◊〉. r. wh●… p. 1●…5, l. 9 r. Wretch.  
There are many false Points and Com●…'s and s●… Faults 〈◊〉 here mentioned, which the Reader is desired to excuse and correct.