Drive not the jeft too far, but spare this piece; And, for this once, be not more wife than
See twice! do not pell-mell to damning fall,
Like true-born Britons, who ne'er think at all:
Pray be advised; and though at Mons you won,
On pointed cannon do not always run.
With some respect to ancient wit proceed ;
You take the four first councils for your
But, when you lay tradition wholly by,
And on the private spirit alone rely,
You turn fanatics in your poetry.
If, notwithstanding all that we can say,
You needs will have your penn'orths of the play,
And come refolved to damn, because you pay, Record it, in memorial of the fact,
The first play buried fince the woollen act.
WHAT Sophocles could undertake alone,
Our poets found a work for more than one;
And therefore two lay tugging at the piece,
With all their force, to draw the ponderous
mafs from Greece;
A weight that bent even Seneca's ftrong muse, 5
And which Corneille's fhoulders did refuse.
So hard it is the Athenian harp to ftring!
So much two confuls yield to one just king.
Terror and pity this whole poem fway ;
The mightiest machines that can mount a play.
How heavy will thofe vulgar fouls be found, 11
Whom two fuch engines cannot move from
ground!
When Greece and Rome have fmil'd upon this birth,
You can but damn for one poor spot of earth: And when your children find your judgment
They'll fcorn their fires, and wish themselves
Each haughty poet will infer with ease,
How much his wit muft under-write to please.
As fome strong churl would, brandishing, ad-
The monumental sword that conquer'd France; So you, by judging this, your judgment teach, Thus far you like, that is, thus far you reach. Since then the vote of full two thousand years Has crown'd this plot, and all the dead are theirs,
Think it a debt you pay, not alms you give, 25 And, in your own defence, let this Play live. Think them not vain, when Sophocles is shown, To praise his worth they humbly doubt their
Yet as weak states each other's
power affure, Weak poets by conjunction are fecure.
Their treat is what your palates relish moft,
Charm! fong! and fhow! a murder and a ghoft!
We know not what you can defire or hope,
To please you more, but burning of a Pope.
An awful ghoft confefs'd to human eyes!
Unnam'd, methinks, distinguish'd I had been
From other fhades, by this eternal green,
About whofe wreaths the vulgar poets ftrive, 5
And with a touch, their wither'd bays revive.
Untaught, unpractis'd, in a barbarous age,
I found not, but created first the stage.
And, if I drain'd no Greek or Latin store,
"Twas, that my own abundance gave me more.
On foreign trade I needed not rely,
Like fruitful Britain, rich without fupply.
In this my rough-drawn play you shall behold
Some master-strokes, fo manly and fo bold,
That he who meant to alter, found 'em fuch, 15
He shook, and thought it facrilege to touch.
Now, where are the fucceffors to my name?
What bring they to fill out a poet's fame?
Weak, fhort-liv'd iffues of a feeble age;
Scarce living to be chriften'd on the stage!
For humour farce, for love they rhime dispense,
That tolls the knell for their departed fenfe.
Dulness might thrive in any trade but this:
"Twould recommend to fome fat benefice.
Dulness, that in a playhouse meets difgrace, 25
Might meet with reverence in its proper place.
The fulfome clench, that naufeates the town,
Would from a judge or alderman go down,
Such virtue is there in a robe and gown!
And that infipid ftuff which here
you hate, 30
Might fomewhere else be called a grave de-
Dulness is decent in the church and state.
But I forget that still 'tis understood,
Bad plays are beft decried by showing good.
Sit filent then, that
my pleas'd foul may
fee 35
A judging audience once, and worthy me;
My faithful scene from true records shall tell,
How Trojan valour did the Greek excell;
Your great forefathers shall their fame regain,
And Homer's angry ghoft repine in vain.
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