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may for want of Nokes repine;

The hearers
But reft fecure, the readers will be thine.
Nor was thy labor'd drama damn'd or hiss'd,
But with a kind civility dismiss'd;

With fuch good manners, as the Wife did use,
Who, not accepting, did but juft refuse.
There was a glance at parting; fuch a look,
As bids thee not give o'er, for one rebuke.
But if thou wouldst be feen, as well as read,
Copy one living author, and one dead:
The standard of thy ftyle let Etherege be;
For wit, th'immortal fpring of Wycherly:
Learn, after both, to draw fome juft defign,
And the next age will learn to copy thine.

EPISTLE the NINTH.

TO

HENRY HIGDEN, Efq;

ON HIS

Translation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal.

ΤΗ

HE Grecian wits, who Satire first began, Were pleasant Pafquins on the life of man ; At mighty villains, who the state oppreft, They durft not rail, perhaps; they lash'd, at least, And turn'd them out of office with a jest. No fool could peep abroad, but ready stand The drolls to clap a bauble in his hand. Wife legislators never yet could draw A fop within the reach of common law; For posture, drefs, grimace and affectation, Tho foes to fenfe, are harmless to the nation. Our laft redress is dint of verfe to try, And Satire is our court of Chancery. This took Horace to reform an age, way Not bad enough to need an author's rage. But yours, who liv'd in more degenerate times, Was forc'd to faften deep, and worry crimes. Yet you, my friend, have temper'd him fo well, You make him smile in fpite of all his zeal :

An art peculiar to yourself alone,
To join the virtues of two ftyles in one.

Oh! were your author's principle receiv'd,
Half of the lab'ring world would be reliev'd:
For not to with is not to be deceiv'd.
Revenge would into charity be chang'd,
Because it cofts too dear to be reveng'd:
It cofts our quiet and content of mind,
And when 'tis compass'd leaves a fting behind.
Suppose I had the better end o'th' staff,
Why should I help th' ill-natur'd world to laugh?
'Tis all alike to them, who get the day;
They love the spite and mischief of the fray.
No; I have cur'd myself of that disease;
Nor will I be provok'd, but when I please :
But let me half that cure to you restore
You give the falve, I laid it to the fore.
Our kind relief against a rainy day,
Beyond a tavern, or a tedious play,
We take your book, and laugh our fpleen away.
If all your tribe, too ftudious of debate,
Would cease falfe hopes and titles to create,
Led by the rare example you begun,
Clients would fail, and lawyers be undone.

X

EPISTLE the TENTH.

TO MY DEAR FRIEND

Mr. CON GREVE,

ON HIS

COMEDY call'd, The DOUBLE DEALER.

WE

ELL then, the promis'd hour is come at last, The prefent age of wit obfcures the past: Strong were our fires, and as they fought they writ, Conqu'ring with force of arms, and dint of wit: Theirs was the giant race, before the flood; And thus, when Charles return'd, our empire stood. Like Janus he the ftubborn foil manur'd, With rules of husbandry the rankness cur'd; Tam'd us to manners, when the ftage was rude; And boiftrous English wit with art indu’d. age was cultivated thus at length; But what we gain'd in skill we loft in ftrength. Our builders were with want of genius,curst; The fecond temple was not like the firft: Till you, the best Vitruvius, come at length; Our beauties equal, but excel our ftrength. VOL. II. N

Our

Firm Doric pillars found your folid base:
The fair Corinthian crowns the higher space:
Thus all below is ftrength, and all above is grace.
In eafy dialogue is Fletcher's praise ;

He mov'd the mind, but had not power to raife.
Great Johnson did by ftrength of judgment please;
Yet, doubling Fletcher's force, he wants his ease.
In diff'ring talents both adorn'd their age;
One for the study, t'other for the stage.
But both to Congreve justly shall submit,
One match'd in judgment, both o'ermatch'd in wit.
In him all beauties of this age we fee,
Etherege his courtship, Southern's purity,
The fatire, wit, and ftrength of manly Wycherly.
All this in blooming youth you have atchiev'd:
Nor are your foil'd contemporaries griev'd.
So much the sweetnefs of your manners move,'
We cannot envy you, because we love.
Fabius might joy in Scipio, when he faw
A beardlefs conful made against the law,
And join his fuffrage to the votes of Rome;
Though he with Hannibal was overcome.
Thus old Romano bow'd to Raphael's fame,
And scholar to the youth he taught became.
O that
your brows my
laurel had fuftain'd!
Well had I been depos'd, if you had reign'd:-

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