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The truth is, for a man to write well, it is necessary to be in good humor; neither is Wit less eclipsed with the unquietness of Mind, then Beauty with the Indisposition of Body. So that 'tis almost as hard a thing to be a Poet in despight of Fortune, as it is in despight of Nature. For my own part, neither my obligations to the Muses, nor expectations from them are so great, as that I should suffer my self on no considerations to be divorced; or that I should say like Horace,

Quisquis erit vitæ, Scribam, color*.

I shall rather use his words in another place,
Vixi Camanis nuper idoneus,
Et militavi non sine gloriâ,
Nunc arma defunctumq; bello
Barbiton hic paries habebit.

And this resolution of mine does the more befit me, because my desire has been for some years past (though the execution has been accidentally diverted) and does still vehemently continue, to retire my self to some of our American Plantations, not to seek for Gold, or inrich my self with the traffick of those parts (which is the end of most men that travel thither; so that of these Indies it is truer then it was of the former,

Improbus extremos currit Mercator ad Indos
Pauperiem fugiens...)

But to forsake this world for ever, with all the vanities and Vexations of it, and to bury my self there in some obscure retreat (but not without the consolation of Letters and Philosophy)

Oblitusq; meorum, obliviscendus & illis.

As my former Author speaks too, who has inticed me here, I know not how, into the Pedantry of this heap of Latine Sentences. And I think Doctor Donnes Sun Dyal in a grave is not more useless and ridiculous then Poetry would be in that retirement. As this therefore is in a true sense a kind of Death to the Muses, and a real literal quitting of this World: So, methinks, I may make a just claim to the undoubted priviledge of Deceased Poets, which is to be read with more favor, then the Living;

Tanti est ut placeam tibi, Periret.

*Hor. Sat. 1. l. 2. ser. + L. 3. Car. Ode 26. Vixi puellis, &'c.

Mart.

Having been forced for my own necessary justificatio[n] to trouble the Reader with this long Discourse of the Reasons why I trouble him also with all the rest of the Book; I shall only add somewhat concerning the several Parts of it, and some other pieces, which I have thought fit to reject in this publication: As first, all those which I wrote at School from the age of ten years, till after fifteen; for even so far backward there remain yet some traces of me in the little footsteps of a child; which though they were then looked upon as commendable extravagances in a Boy (men setting a value upon any kind of fruit before the usual season of it) yet I would be loth to be bound now to read them all over my self; and therefore should do ill to expect that patience from others. Besides, they have already past through several Editions, which is a longer Life then uses to be enjoyed by Infants that are born before the ordinary terms. They had the good fortune then to find the world so indulgent (for considering the time of their production, who could be so hard-hearted to be severe ?) that I scarce yet apprehend so much to be censured for them, as for not having made advances afterwards proportionable to the speed of my setting out, and am obliged too in a manner by Discretion to conceal and suppress them, as Promises and Instruments under my own hand, whereby I stood engaged for more then I have been able to perform; in which truly, if I have failed, I have the real excuse of the honestest sort of Bankrupts, which is, to have been made Unsolvable, not so much by their own negligence and ill-husbandry, as by some notorious accidents and publick disasters. In the next place, I have cast away all such pieces as I wrote during the time of the late troubles, with any relation to the differences that caused them; as among others, three Books of the Civil War it self, reaching as far as the first Battel of Newbury, where the succeeding misfortunes of the party stopt the work.

As for the ensuing Book, it consists of four parts: The first is a Miscellanie of several Subjects, and some of them made when I was very young, which it is perhaps superfluous to tell the Reader; I know not by what chance I have kept Copies of them; for they are but a very few in comparison of those which I have lost, and I think they have no extraordinary virtue in them, to deserve more care in preservation, then was bestowed

upon their Brethren; for which I am so little concerned, that I am ashamed of the arrogancy of the word, when I said, I had lost them.

The Second, is called, The Mistress, [or] Love-Verses; for so it is, that Poets are scarce thought Free-men of their Company, without paying some duties, and obliging themselves to be true to Love. Sooner or later they must all pass through that Tryal, like some Mahumetan Monks, that are bound by their Order, once at least, in their life, to make a Pilgrimage to Meca,

In furias ignemq; ruunt; Amor omnibus idem.

But we must not always make a judgment of their manners from their writings of this kind; as the Romanists uncharitably do of Beza, for a few lascivious Sonnets composed by him in his youth. It is not in this sense that Poesie is said to be a kind of Painting; it is not the Picture of the Poet, but of things and persons imagined by him. He may be in his own practice and disposition a Philosopher, nay a Stoick, and yet speak sometimes with the softness of an amorous Sappho.

Feret & rubus asper Amomum.

He professes too much the use of Fables (though without the malice of deceiving) to have his testimony taken even against himself. Neither would I here be misunderstood, as if I affected so much gravity, as to be ashamed to be thought really in Love. On the contrary, I cannot have a good opinion of any man who is not at least capable of being so. But I speak it to excuse some expressions (if such there be) which may happen to offend the severity of supercilious Readers; for much Excess is to be allowed in Love, and even more in Poetry; so we avoid the two unpardonable vices in both, which are Obscenity and Prophaneness, of which I am sure, if my words be ever guilty, they have ill represented my thoughts and intentions. And if, notwithstanding all this, the lightness of the matter here displease any body; he may find wherewithal to content his more serious inclinations in the weight and height of the ensuing Arguments.

For as for the Pindarick Odes (which is the third part) I am in great doubt whether they will be understood by most Readers; nay, even by very many who are well enough acquainted with

the common Roads, and ordinary Tracks of Poesie. They either are, or at least were meant to be, of that kind of Stile which Dion. Halicarnasseus calls, Μεγαλοφυὲς καὶ ἡδὺ μετὰ SewóτηTOs, and which he attributes to Alcaus: The digressions are many, and sudden, and sometimes long, according to the fashion of all Lyriques, and of Pindar above all men living. The Figures are unusual and bold, even to Temeritie, and such as I durst not have to do withal in any other kind of Poetry: The Numbers are various and irregular, and sometimes (especially some of the long ones) seem harsh and uncouth, if the just measures and cadencies be not observed in the Pronunciation. So that almost all their Sweetness and Numerosity (which is to be found, if I mistake not, in the roughest, if rightly repeated) lies in a manner wholly at the Mercy of the Reader. I have briefly described the nature of these Verses, in the Ode entituled, The Resurrection: And though the Liberty of them may incline a man to believe them easie to be composed, yet the undertaker will find it otherwise.

... Ut sibi quivis

Speret idem, multum sudet frustráq, laboret

Ausus idem....

I come now to the last Part, which is Davideis, or an Heroical Poem of the Troubles of David; which I designed into Twelve Books; not for the Tribes sake, but after the Pattern of our Master Virgil; and intended to close all with that most Poetical and excellent Elegie of Davids on the death of Saul and Jonathan: For I had no mind to carry him quite on to his Anointing at Hebron, because it is the custom of Heroick Poets (as we see by the examples of Homer and Virgil, whom we should do ill to forsake to imitate others) never to come to the full end of their Story; but onely so near, that every one may see it; as men commonly play not out the game, when it is evident that they can win it, but lay down their Cards, and take up what they have won. This, I say, was the whole Design, in which there are many noble and fertile Arguments behind; as, The barbarous cruelty of Saul to the Priests at Nob, the several flights and escapes of David, with the manner of his living in the Wilderness, the Funeral of Samuel, the love of Abigal, the sacking of Ziglag, the loss and

recovery of Davids wives from the Amalekites, the Witch of Endor, the War with the Philistines, and the Battel of Gilboa ; all which I meant to interweave upon several occasions, with most of the illustrious Stories of the Old Testament, and to embellish with the most remarkable Antiquities of the Jews, and of other Nations before or at that Age. But I have had neither Leisure hitherto, nor have Appetite at present to finish the work, or so much as to revise that part which is done with that care which I resolved to bestow upon it, and which the Dignity of the Matter well deserves. For what worthier subject could have been chosen among all the Treasuries of past times, then the Life of this young Prince; who from so small beginnings, through such infinite troubles and oppositions, by such miraculous virtues and excellencies, and with such incomparable variety of wonderful actions and accidents, became the greatest Monarch that ever sat on the most famous Throne of the whole Earth? whom should a Poet more justly seek to honour, then the highest Person who ever honoured his Profession? whom a Christian Poet, rather then the man after Gods own heart, and the man who had that sacred pre-eminence above all other Princes, to be the best and mightiest of that Royal Race from whence Christ himself, according to the flesh disdained not to descend? When I consider this, and how many other bright and magnificent subjects of the like nature, the Holy Scripture affords and proffers, as it were, to Poesie, in the wise managing and illustrating whereof, the Glory of God Almighty might be joyned with the singular utility and noblest delight of Mankind; It is not without grief and indignation that I behold that Divine Science employing all her inexhaustible riches of Wit and Eloquence, either in the wicked and beggerly Flattery of great persons, or the unmanly Idolizing of Foolish Women, or the wretched affectation of scurril Laughter, or at best on the confused antiquated Dreams of senseless Fables and Metamorphoses. Amongst all holy and consecrated things which the Devil ever stole [and] alienated from the service of the Deity; as Altars, Temples, Sacrifices, Prayers, and the like; there is none that he so universally, and so long usurpt, as Poetry. It is time to recover it out of the Tyrants hands, and to restore it to the Kingdom of God, who is the Father of it. It is time to Baptize it in Jordan, for it will never become

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