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Our Author, happy in a judge so nice,

Produc'd his play, and begg'd the Knight's advice:

Made him obferve the fubject, and the plot,

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The manners, paffions, unities; what not?
All which, exact to rule, were brought about,
Were but a combat in the lifts left out.

280

"What! leave the combat out?" exclaims the Knight. Yes, or we must renounce the Stagirite. "Not fo by heaven (he answers in a rage)

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Knights, fquires, and steeds, must enter on the stage."

So vaft a throng the stage can ne'er contain.
"Then build a new, or act it in a plain."

Thus Critics, of lefs judgment than caprice,
Curious, not knowing, not exact but nice,
Form fhort ideas; and offend in arts
(As most in manners) by a love to parts.
Some to Conceit alone their taste confine,
And glittering thoughts struck out at every line;
Pleas'd with a work where nothing's juft or fit;
One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.
Poets like painters, thus unskill'd to trace
The naked nature and the living grace,
With gold and jewels cover every part,
And hide with ornaments their want of art,
True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd,

What oft was thought, but ne'er fo well exprefs'd;
Something, whose truth convinc'd at fight we find,
That gives us back the image of our mind.

Ver. 298. Ed. 1.

VARIATION.

285

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What oft was thought, but ne'er before express'd.

As

As fhades more sweetly recommend the light,

So modeft plainness sets off sprightly wit.

For works may have more wit than does them good,
As bodies perish through excess of blood.

305

Others for Language all their care exprefs, And value books, as women men, for dress: Their praife is ftill,- the ftyle is excellent: The fenfe, they humbly take upon content.

Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
Much fruit of fense beneath is rarely found.

Falfe eloquence, like the prifmatic glafs,
Its gaudy colours spreads on every place;
The face of Nature we no more furvey,
All glares alike, without diftinction gay :
But true expreffion, like th' unchanging fun,
Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon,
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
Expreffion is the dress of thought, and still
Appears more decent, as more fuitable;
A vile conceit in pompous words express'd
Is like a clown in regal purple drest:
For different ftyles with different subjects fort,
As feveral garbs, with country, town, and court.
Some by old words to Fame have made pretence,
Ancients in phrafe, mere moderns in their fenfe;
Such labour'd nothings, in fo ftrange a style,
Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned fimile.

Ver. 320. Ed. 1.

VARIATION.

A vile conceit in pompous ftyle exprefs'd.

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320

3245

Unlucky,

Unlucky, as Fungofa in the play,

These fparks with awkward vanity display
What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
And but fo mimic ancient wits at beft,

As apes our grandfires in their doublets drest.
In words, as fashions, the fame rule will hold i
Alike fantastic, if too new or old :

Be not the first by whom the new are try'd
Nor yet the last to lay the old afide.

But most by numbers judge a poet's fong;

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And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong: In the bright Muse though thousand charms confpire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire ;

340

Who haunt Parnaffus but to please their ear,

Not mend their minds; as fome to church repair,
Not for the doctrine, but the mufic there.

These, equal fyllables alone require,

Though oft the ear the open vowels tire;

345

While expletives their feeble aid do join;

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:

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While they ring round the fame unvary'd chimes,
With fure returns of still expected rhymes;
Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze," 350
In the next line it " whispers through the trees:
If cryftal ftreams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"
The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with " sleep :"
Then at the last and only couplet fraught

With fome unmeaning thing they call a thought, 355
A needless

VARIATION.

Ver. 338. Ed. 1. And smooth or rough, with fuch, &c.

A needlefs Alexandrine ends the song,

That, like a wounded fnake, drags its flow length along.
Leave fuch to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
What's roundly smooth, or languishingly flow;
And praise the eafy vigour of a line,

360

Where Denham's strength and Waller's sweetness join,
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,

As thofe move eafieft who have learn'd to dance.
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
The found muft feem an Echo to the fense:
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows
But when loud furges lafh the founding shore,

The hoarfe, rough verfe should like the torrent roar.
When Ajax ftrives fome rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labours, and the words move flow:
Not fo when swift Camla fcours the plain,

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Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main, Hear how Timotheus' vary'd lays furprize,

And bid alternate passions fall and rise!

While, at each change, the fon of Libyan Jove
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
Now fighs steal out, and tears begin to flow
Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
And the world's victor ftood fubdued by found!
The
power of Mufic all our hearts allow,

And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.

:

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380

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 363, 364. These lines are added.

Ver. 368. But when loud billows, &c.

Avoid

Avoid extremes; and fhun the fault of fuch,
Who ftill are pleas'd too little or too much.
At every trifle fcorn to take offence,

That always fhews great pride, or little sense;
Thofe heads, as ftomachs, are not fure the best,
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digeft.
Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;

For fools admire, but men of fenfe approve :

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As things feem large which we through mifts defcry,
Dulness is ever apt to magnify.

Some foreign writers, fome our own despise;
The Ancients only, or the Moderns prize;
Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is apply'd
To one small fect, and all are damn'd befide.
Meanly they seek the bleffing to confine,
And force that fun but on a part to shine,
Which not alone the fouthern wit fublimes,
But ripens fpirits in cold northern climes;
Which from the firft has fhone on ages past,
Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;
Though each may feel encreases and decays,
And fee now clearer and now darker days.
Regard not then if wit be old or new,
But blame the falfe, and value ftill the true.
Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
But catch the spreading notion of the town;
They reafon and conclude by precedent,

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And own ftale nonsense which they ne'er invent.

VARIATION.

Ver. 394. Ed. r. Some the French writers, &c.

Some

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