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On the Treatment of the Modern Drama.
By Mr. Kn
- of Magd. Col.
Nce Bear and Champion did engage
In mortal Fray on Roman Stage :
Our Moderns have reviv'd the Mattery
The former Age renew'd in latter,
And made Bear-garden of Theatre.
Here Beau, the only modifh Brute,
With honest Authors does dispute :
And as on Roman Stage predicted,
Fell Wound on Champion was inflicted,
When stour Bruino kept his Station,
Invoking Brocher Constellation
To aslift him in the Difpucation :
To curry poor heroic Hide well,
And harrow Carcass, Back, and side well;
But tho' he got a bloody Rump on't,
His Honour still came off Triumphant.
So cho the Pit Grimalkins, that maul
With wicked Serenade of Catcall,
Oft rout a poor Dramatic Hero,
(As Teague was once by Lero, Lero)
A well-writ Play, like Ruffians treat,
Confound the Scene, and Plot defeat,
In spite of all the Dammee Chorus,
Th' immortal Wit is still Victorious.
I then in Person of an Author,
Since good Dramaticks have no Growth here,
Like pious Felons doom'd to be
Made Pendulum for Gallow-tree ;
That gives Advice, left sinful Mortal,
Like him, his Days in Hemp should curtail,
you all to leave off Writing, The mortal Sin of well Enditing ; But if 110 Counsel can be used,
rhiming Wretch when once be-mused,
(For Crown and Bum there's such a Curse in,
They're ne'er at Ease, but when untrussing)
Since wholesome Sait of Author season'd,
To Taste of Nation is unpleasant,
(When busy Noddle's next in Labour,
And has a Need to purge on Paper)
Invoke the Bastard Race of Phabus,
Skill'd in Acrostick, Pun, and Rebus,
With Spirit of late Marriage-hater,
T'aflift to make Lampoon on Nature,
And e'en on Farce itself a Satyr ;
For that alone gives Titillation,
And faves poor Poet from Damnation.
On Dr. Lower, who was observ'd to be grown Good-natur'd a little before his Death.
By another Hand. H
AD not good Humour o'er the Ill prevailid,
Death in attempting Dr. Lower had faild;
For he, alas! good Man, in Health declin'd,
By changing the bad Manners of his Mind :
And's very Understanding got a Cough,
By leaving an old Habit
too soon off.
For had he kept his Humour most austere,
He might have yet liv'd many a Year,
Preserv'd in his own Pickle, Vinegar :
But when the Alkali had kill'd the Sow'r,
His Blood being sweeten'd, oft troop'd Dr. Lower,
stoutputsetooteotsatse tootsstse tootsetoetsetseks
To his Cruel Mistress. Out of French.
IS then decreed, and now I find
Sinc my imperious Fair denies
Rest to my Soul, and Slumber to my Eyes.
Go take a Kiss, Love whispers in my Ear;
But Love, alas ! gives Way to Pear.
Awful Respect th' afpiring Flame commands,
Tyes up my Tongue, and binds my Hands.
Ah! must your bleeding Lover die,
And see his Balm, and fee his Cure fo nigh?
Or fierce, and cager of the Bliss,
Shall he presume to see a balmy Kiss.
No he'll ten thousand Deaths endure,
And all the Rigours of his Fate attend,
E're he'll by Sacrilege attempt his Cure,
And his dear Bellamette once offend.
ooooooo An Ode upon a Kiss. Out of French.
AY, now ambitious Thoughts farewel;
I pity Kings in all their State,
While thus in Lesbia's Arms I dwell,
And mighty Love does on my Triumplis wait.
Thus let me, languishing, expire,
Incircled in her snowy Arms,
'Till the revives me with her Charms, And pours into my Breast a nobler Fire.
Thus let me figh my Soul
And revel in immortal Bliss,
Thus let me spend th' auspicious Day,
And crown each smiling Moment with a Kiss.
Adonis ne'er was half so blest,
Nor half the Pleasure shar'd, as I : Tho'Love's bright Goddess hiin carest, And in her Arnis hugg'd the delicious Boy.
Nor Fove himself fuch Transports knew,
When Danae's Charms the captive God did hold,
Tho’ be, the Pleasure to pursue,
Mortgag'a bis poor Almightyship to Gold.
A thousand Loves in folemn State
On those too rosy Lips reside;
While busy I, with eager Pride,
Sip all their Sweets, and bless my happy Fate.
Now on her glowing Breasts®I range,
Now kiss her Cheeks, and now her Eyes ;
The Pleasure's heighten'd by the Change,
And fills me with unruly Joys.
But ah!. my beauteous Nymph, beware
How you increase my Score ;
For else your pamper'd Slave may dare,
Drunk as he is with Joy, to press for something more.
For say, fond Lovers, what you will
To defy a Kiss,
'Tis but a Pledge or Prologue still
To the succeeding Acts of Bliss.
A Sapphic Ode in the Valesiana.
Ulcius quam fit putat effe mollis
Cognitæ nondum Veneris puellas
At recordantur Vidue peractas
Cum viris noctes, fitis inde major,
Cognitæ dudum Veneris prioris
Virgini ignosci Viduene malis?
Illa, quod nescit, crepit experiri;
experta eft, avet : Inde Virgo
Principio, Cælum, & Terras, Titaniaq; aftra
Spiritus intus alit, totumq; infufa per artus
Mens agitat molem-
"'LL fing how God, the World's Almighty Mind,
Directs the Parts, and with an equal Hand
Supports the whole, enjoying his Command :
How all agree, and how the Parts have made
Strict Leagues, subsisting by each others Aid.
How all by Reason move, because one Sou!
Lives in the Parts, diffusing thro' the whole.
For did not all the friendly Parts conspire
To make one whole, and keep the Frame entire ;
And did not Reason guide, and Sense controll
The vast ftupendious Machine of the whole ;
Earth wou'd not keep its Place, the Skies wou'd fall,
And universal Stiffness deaden all.
Stars wou'd not whirl their Round, nor Day nor Night
Their Course perform, but stop their usual Flight.
Rains wou'd not feed their Fields, and Earih deny
Mifts to the Clouds, and Vapours to the Sky.
Seas wou'd not fill the Springs, nor Springs return
Their grateful Tribute from their flowing Urn.
Nor wou'd the all, unless contriv'd by Art,
So justly be proportion'd in each Part;
That neither Seas, nor Skies, nor Stars exceed
Our Wants; nor are too scanty for our Need.
Thus ftands the Frame, and the Almighty Soul,
Thro' all diffus'd, so turns, and guides the whole,
That nothing from its settled Starion swerves,
And Morion alters not the Frame, but still preserves.
This God, or Reason, which the Orls does move,
Makes Things below depend on Signs above :
Tho' far remov’d, tho'hid in Shades of Night,
And scarce be describ'd by their own Light.