What skill do bills or advertisements lend?
On merit only must success depend.
Booth ne'er attempted, in a pompous way,
To reach perfection in his first essay;

Through many countries had he stroling been,
Trod many stages, and play'd many a scene,
Before the British Roscius he became;

And fix'd, while Britain's stage shall last, his name:
He knew experienc'd truths must gain his cause,
Nor made small fame to follow small applause;
Commanding of respect, his step, his look,
Invited all attention e're he spoke :
With what a majesty he mov'd along!
How tuneful flow'd the periods of his tongue!
Inform'd by nature, and improv'd by art,
Speaking, or silent, he won ev'ry heart,
Or all admiring listen'd with surprize,

Or on his graceful form they fed their raptur'd eyes;
The fiction lost, they realiz'd the scene,

And saw entranc'd a herve live again.

"Tis said, as actors on the stage make known

All others foibles, nor reveal their own,

Many there are, who've sat out many play,
Nor went near the twelfth hour fatigu'd away;
Who on the stage the players have admir'd,
Have wish'd to know their humours, when retir'd :
They of strange things behind the curtain hear,
And wonder what those famous green rooms are.
For fame says many go behind the scenes,
To romp with goddesses, and joke with queens,
With half-drunk bishops talk of smutty things,
Bow'd to by emp'rors, and shook hands by kings.

There scenes conceal'd from common light arise,
Whose humour pleases, and whose themes surprise:
In all according to their rank you find
Various behaviour, and as various mind;
All with peculiar oddities engage,

From him who sweeps, to him who rules the stage.

These, MUSE, relate:-But why this sudden pause,
Vers'd in their arts, their humours, and their laws?
When what to think and what to say I know,

Why will not ev'n prosaic numbers flow?
-Some God indulgent twitches by the car,
And kindly whispers,- Too rash bard, forbear;
Enough hast thou traduc'd Horatian rules,
Indulging fancy, and describing fools;
In imitation should your verse succeed,
When such the subject, who the verse will read?
What publick benefit will it impart

To know a player's humour, or his art?

Humour be what it will, if just, is lov❜d—,
E're you write more see what you've wrote approv'd:
Then of the stage the various theme prolong,

Or wisely here for ever close your song.'

NENNIUS, A WORTHY BRITON,

The very Pattern of a valiant, noble, and faithful Subject, Encountering with Julius Cæsar, at his first Coming into this Island, was by him Death-wounded; yet nevertheless he got Cæsar's Sword, put him to Flight, slew therewith Labienus, a tribune of the Romans, endured Fight till his Countrymen won the Battle, died fifteen Days after. And now encourageth all good Subjects to defend their Country from the Power of foreign and usurping Enemies.

About the Year before Christ, 52.

MS.

I

MAY, by right, some later writers blame
Of stories old, as rude, or negligent;

Or else I may them well unlearned name,
Or heedless, in those things about they went:
Some time on me as well they might have spent,
As on such traitors, tyrants, harlots, those,
Which, to their countries, were the deadliest foes.

Me, for myself, I would not this recite,
Although I have occasion good thereto;
But sure, methinks, it is too great despite,
These men to others, and their countries, do:
For there are Britons, neither one or two,
Whose names in stories scarcely once appear,
And yet their lives examples worthy were.

'Tis worthy praise, I grant, to write the ends.

Of vicious men, and teach the like beware:
For what hath he of virtue, that commends
Such persons lewd, as nought of virtues care?
But for to leave out those praise-worthy are

Is like as if a man had not the skill

To praise the good, but discommend the ill.

I crave no praise, although myself deserv'd
As great a laud, as any Briton yore:
But I would have it told how well I serv'd

My prince and country, faith to both I bore;
All noble hears hereby, with courage more,
May both their foreign foes in fight withstand,
And of their enemies have the upper hand,

Again, to shew how valiant then we were,
You Britons good, to move your hearts thereby
All other nations less in fight to fear,

And, for your country, rather so to die,
With valiant, haughty courage, as did I,
Than live in bondage, service, slavery, thrall
Of foreign powers, which hate your manhood all;

Do give me leave to speak but even a while,

And mark, and write this story 1 thee tell:
By north from London, more than fifty mile,
There lies the Isle of Ely, known full well,
Wherein my father built a place to dwell;
And, for because he liked well the same,
He
gave the place' He Ely hight,' his name,
'Tis nam'd the Isle of Ely, yet, perdy,
My father nam'd it so; yet writers miss,
Or, if I may be bold to say, they lye

Of him, which tell that far untruth-like is.
What truth, I pray you, seems to be in this?
He Ely lov'd, a goodly place built there,
Most it delighted, reign'd not full a year.

He reigned forty years, as others tell;

Which seems, as 'tis a tale, more true by far: By justice guided he his subjects well,

And liv'd in peace, without the broils of war:
His children's noble acts in stories are,

In vulgar tongue; but nought is said of me,
And yet I worthy was, the young'st of three.

His eldest son and heir was after King;

A noble prince, and he was named Lud; Full politick and wise in every thing,

And one that will'd his country always good: Such uses, customs, statutes he withstood, As seem'd to bring the publick weal's decay, And them abolish'd, broke, repeal'd away.

Lanquet, Stowe, Grafton, Flores Historici,

So he the walls of Troy the New' renew'd,

Inlarg'd them made, with forty tow'rs about;
And, at the west-side of the wall, he view'd

A place for gates, to keep the enemies out:
There made he prisons for the poor bankrout,
Nam'd Ludgate, yet the freemen debtors, free
From hurt, till with their creditors they 'gree.

Some say, the city also took the name

Of Lud my brother, for he it repair'd;
And I must needs, as true, confess the same.
For why? That time no cost on it he spar'd.
He still increas'd and peopled every ward;
And bade them aye Kaer Lud the city call,
Or Ludstown; now you name it London all.

At length he dy'd, his children under age,
The elder named was Androgeus,
Committing both unto my brother's charge:
The younger of them hight Tennancius.
The Britons, wanting aged rulers thus,
Chose, for that time, Cassibellane their King,
My brother justice meant in every thing.

The Roman then the mighty Cæsar fought,

Against the Galls, and conquer'd them by might:
Which done, he stood on shores, where sce he mought
The ocean seas, and Britain cliffs full bright;
Quoth he, What region lies there in my sight?
Methinks some island in the seas I see,

Not yet subdu'd, nor vanquish'd yet by me.

With that they told him, we the Britons were,
A people stout, and fierce in feats of war,
Quoth he, The Romans never yet, with fear
Of nation rude, was daunted off so far;

We therefore mind to prove them what they are;

And, therewithal, the letters hither sent,

By those ambassage brought, and thus they went :

C. Julius Caesar, Dictator of Rome, to Cassibellane, King of Britain, sendeth greeting.

Since that the Gods have given us all the west,

As subjects to our Roman empire high;

By war, or as it seemed, Jove the best,

Of whom we Romans came, and chiefly I.

Therefore to you, which in the ocean dwell,
As yet not underneath subjection due,
We send our letters, greeting, were ye well;
In warlike cases, thus we deal with you.

First that you, as the other regions, pay
Us tribute yearly, Romans we require;
Then that you will, with all the force you may,
Withstand our foes, as yours, with sword and fire.

And thirdly, that by these you pledges send,
T'assure the covenants, once agreed by you:
So, with your danger less, our wars may end,
Else bid we war; Cassibelane, adieu,

CESAR,

No sooner were these Cæsar's letters seen,
But straight the King for all his nobles sent:
He shewed them what their ancestors had been,
And pray'd them tell, in this, their whole intent.
He told them whereabout the Romans went,
And what subjection was, how servile they
Should be, if Cæsar bore their pomp away.

And all the Britons, even as set on fire,

(Myself not least inflamed was to fight)
Did humbly him in joyful wise require,
That he his letters would to Cæsar write,
And tell him plain, he pass'd not of his spite.
We pass'd at little, of the Romans we,
And less than they of us, if less might be.

Wherefore, the joyful King again reply'd,

Through counsel wise of all the nobles had.

By letters he the Romans hosts defy'd;

Which made the Britons haughty hearts full glad.
No doubt, the Romans more than half were mad,
To hear his letters written, thus they went,
Which he again to mighty Cæsar sent;

Cassibellane, King of Britain, te C. Julius Cæsar, Dictator, sendeth

answer.

As thou, O Cæsar, writ'st, the Gods have given to thee
The West; so I reply, They gave this island me.
Thou say'st, You Romans, and thyself, of Gods descend;
And dar'st thou then to spoil our Trojan blood pretend?