NATHANIEL LEE,

Commonly called the Mad Poet.

1691.

He had, however, the good sense to relinquish the chase after church preferment, and the vain pursuit of court favour. He has left little besides his plays, from one of which the subjoined specimen is taken. Lee was con

fined during four years of his short life in Bedlam, where, when a sane idiot of a scribbler mocked his calamity, and observed, that it was easy to write like a madman. Lee answered, "No, Sir, it is not easy to write like a madman, but very easy to write like a fool." If all the patients could make such answers, one might well suspect that the hospital were the Temple of Reason. Lee died in 1691, aged about five and thirty.

SONG.

HAIL to the mirtle shade!

All hail to the nymphs of the fields !

Kings would not here invade

Those pleasures that Virtue yields.

CHORUS.

Beauty here opens her charms
To soften the languishing mind;
And Phillis unlocks her charms;
Ah! Phillis, oh why so kind!

Phillis, thou soul of love,

Thou joy of the neighb'ring swains;

Phillis that crowns the groves,

And Phillis that gilds the plains.

CHORUS.

Phillis, that ne'er had the skill,
To paint, to patch, and be fine,
Yet Phillis, whose eyes can kill,
Whom nature hath made divine.

Phillis, whose charming song, Makes labour and pains a delight; Phillis, that makes the day young, And shortens the live-long night.

CHORUS.

Phillis, whose lips like May,

Still laugh at the sweets they bring ; Where love never knows decay,

But sets with eternal spring.

THOMAS SHADWELL.

Born at Lauton Hill, Norfolk, 1640-1692.

Shadwell was a popular dramatist when he wrote some political remarks upon Dryden's Duke of Guise, in consequence of which he was compelled to fly into Holland. What share Dryden may have had in this persecution cannot now be known; but on the revolution Dryden was deposed from the Laureatship, and Shadwell crowned in his stead, a reward more due to his principles than his poetry. He was also appointed Royal Historiographer. His Comedies have been highly praised by dramatick criticks. In indecency they may vie with any of his own times, and in absurdity and gross caricature with any of ours. Of his only rhymed tragedy, he says, "In all the words which are sung, I do not so much take care of the wit or fancy of them, as the making of them proper for musick."

This gentleman had the modesty to alter Timon of Athens, and to say of it," it has the inimitable hand of Shakes peare in it, which never made more masterly strokes than in this. Yet I can truly say, I have made it into a play.'

His portrait is prefixed to his dramatick works; the face is so perfectly free from all traces of thought or feeling, that it should be engraved to accompany Mac Fleckno, and justify the severity of Dryden.

SONG.

From the Woman Captain.

LET some great joys pretend to find
In empty whimsies of the mind;
But nothing to the soul can come,
Till the ushering senses make it room :
Nor can the mind be e'er at ease,
Unless you first the body please.
Life is, whate'er vain man may doubt,
But taking in and putting out.
Since life's but a span,

Live as much as you can,

Let none of it pass without pleasure;

But push on your strength,

Of what life wants in length,

In the breadth

you must make up

All solid pleasure fops lay by,

the measure.

And seek they know not what, nor why:

Imperfect images they enjoy,
Which fancy makes, and can destroy.
Who in immaterial things delight,
Dream in the day as well as night:
In that how can they pleasure take,
Of which no image thought can make !
In vain no moment then be spent,
Fill up the little life that's lent;
Feasts, musick, wine the day possess,
The night, love, youth and beauty bless.
The senses now in parcels treat,
Then altogether by the great;
No empty space in life be found,
But one continued joy go round.