PROLOGUE

To the UNIVERSITY of OXFORD, 1681.

THE

HE fam'd Italian mufe, whofe rhimes advance Orlando, and the Paladins of France, Records, that, when our wit and fenfe is flown, 'Tis lodg'd within the circle of the moon, In earthen jars, which one, who thither foar'd, Set to his nofe, fnuff'd up, and was reftor'd. Whate'er the story be, the moral's true; The wit we loft in town, we find in you. Our poets their fled parts may draw from hence, And fill their windy heads with fober sense. When London votes with Southwark's disagree, Here may they find their long-loft loyalty. Here bufy fenates, to th' old cause inclin'd, May fnuff the votes their fellows left behind : Your country neighbours, when their grain grows dear, May come, and find their last provifion here: Whereas we cannot much lament our lofs, Who neither carry'd back, nor brought one crofs. We look'd what reprefentatives would bring; But they help'd us, just as they did the king. Yet we despair not; for we now lay forth The Sibyls books to thofe who know their worth; And tho' the firft was facrific'd before, These volumes doubly will the price reftore. Our poet bade us hope this grace to find, To whom by long prefcription you are kind. He, whofe undaunted Mufe, with loyal rage, Has never fpar'd the vices of the age, Here finding nothing that his fpleen can raife, Is forc'd to turn his fatire into praise.

PRO

PROLOGUE

To his ROYAL HIGHNESS,

Upon his first Appearance at the DUKE'S THEATRE after his Return from Scotland, 1682.

I

'N thofe cold regions which no fummers chear,

Where brooding darkness covers half the year
To hollow caves the shiv'ring natives go;
Bears range abroad, and hunt in tracks of fnow:
But when the tedious twilight wears away,
And ftars grow paler at th' approach of day,
The longing crowds to frozen mountains run;
Happy who first can fee the glimmering fun :
The furly favage offspring difappear,
And curfe the bright fucceffor of the year.
Yet, tho' rough bears in covert feek defence,
White foxes stay, with feeming innocence:
That crafty kind with day-light can dispense.
Still we are throng'd fo full with Reynard's race,
That loyal fubjects fcarce can find a place :
Thus modeft truth is caft behind the croud:
Truth fpeaks too low; hypocrify too loud.
Let them be firft to flatter in fuccefs;

Duty can stay, but guilt has need to prefs.
Once, when true zeal the fons of God did call,
To make their folemn fhew at heaven's Whitehall,
The fawning devil appear'd among the reft,
And made as good a courtier as the best.

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The

The friends of Job, who rail'd at him before,
Came cap in hand when he had three times more.
Yet late repentance may, perhaps, be true;
Kings can forgive, if rebels can but fue:
A tyrant's power in rigour is expreft;
The father yearns in the true prince's breáft.
We grant, an o'ergrown Whig no grace can mend;
But moft are babes, that know not they offend.
The croud, to reftlefs motion ftill inclin'd,
Are clouds, that tack according to the wind.
Driven by their chiefs they ftorms of hailftones pour;
Then mourn, and foften to a filent shower.

O welcome to this much-offending land,
The prince that brings forgiveness in his hand!
Thus angels on glad meffages appear:
Their firft falute commands us not to fear:
Thus heaven, that could constrain us to obey,
(With rev'rence if we might prefume to fay)
Seems to relax the rights of fov'reign fway:
Permits to man the choice of good and ill,
And makes us happy by our own free-will.

PRO

PROLOGUE

To the EARL of ESSEX.

[By Mr. J. BANKS, 1682.]

Spoken to the KING and the QUEEN at their coming to the House.

W

WHEN firft the ark was landed on the fhore,
And heaven had vow'd to curse the ground no

more;

When tops of hills the longing patriarch faw,
And the new scene of earth began to draw;

The dove was fent to view the waves decrease,
And first brought back to man the pledge of peace.
'Tis needless to apply, when those appear,

Who bring the olive, and who plant it here.
We have before our eyes the royal dove,
Still innocent as harbinger of love:
The ark is open'd to difmifs the train,
And people with a better race the plain.

Tell me, ye powers, why fhould vain man pursue,
With endless toil, each object that is new,

And for the feeming substance leave the true ?
Why should he quit for hopes his certain good,
And loath the manna of his daily food?
Muft England ftill the fcene of changes be,
Toft and tempeftuous, like our ambient sea?
Muft ftill our weather and our wills agree?
Without our blood our liberties we have:
Who that is free would fight to be a flave?

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Or,

Or, what can wars to after-times affure,
Of which our prefent age is not fecure?
All that our monarch would for us ordain,
Is but t'enjoy the bleffings of his reign.

Our land's an Eden, and the main's our fence,
While we preferve our state of innocence:

That loft, then beafts their brutal force employ,
And firft their lord, and then themselves deftroy.
What civil broils have coft, we know too well;
Oh! let it be enough that once we fell!
And ev'ry heart confpire, and ev'ry tongue,
Still to have fuch a king, and this king long.

EPILOGU E

For the KING'S HOUSE.

WE

E act by fits and starts, like drowning men, But juft peep up, and then pop down again. Let those who call us wicked change their sense; For never men liv'd more on Providence. Not lottery cavaliers are half so poor, Nor broken cits, nor a vacation whore. Not courts, nor courtiers living on the rents Of the three laft ungiving parliaments : So wretched, that, if Pharaoh could divine, He might have spar'd his dream of feven lean kine, And chang'd his vifion for the mufes nine. The comet, that, they fay, portends a dearth, Was but a vapour drawn from play-houfe earth: Pent there fince our laft fire, and, Lilly fays, Forefhews our change of ftate, and thin third-days.

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