To my Dear Friend

M2 CONGREVE,

On his COMEDY, call'd, THE DOUBLE-DEALER.

Ell then the promis'd Hour is come at last; past. Strong were our Syres; and as they Fought they Writ;

W The present Age of Wit obscures the

Conqu'ring with Force of Arms, and Dint of

Wit;

Theirs was the Giant Race, before the Flood; And thus, when Charles Return'd, our Empire

stood.

Like Janus be the stubborn Soil manur'd,
With Rules of Husbandry the Rankness cur'd:
Tam'd us to Manners, when the Stage was rude;
And boistrous English Wit, with Art indu'd.
Our Age was cultivated thus at length;
But what we gain' din Skill, we lost in Strength.
Our Builders were, with Want of Genius, curst;
The Second Temple was not like the First:
'Till You, the best Vitruvius, come at length;
Our Beauties equal, but excel our Strength.
Firm

Firm Dorique Pillarsfound yoursolid Base:

The fair Corinthian crowns the higher Space

Thus all below is Strength, and all above is
Grace.

In eafie Dialogue is Fletchers Praise:
He mov'd the Mind, but had no Pow'r to raise.
Great Johnson did by Strength of Judgement

please:

Yet doubling Fletchers Force, he wants his Eafe. In diff'ring Talents both adorn'd their Age; One for the Study, t'other for the Stage. But both to Congreve justly shall submit, One match'din Judgment, both o'er-match'd in

Wit.

In Him all Beauties of this Age we fee; Etherege his Courtship, Southerns Purity; 2 The Satire, Wit, and Strength of Manly Wi-S

cherly.

All this in blooming Youth you have Atchiev'd;
Nor are your foil'd Contemporaries griev'd:
So much the Sweetness of your Manners move,
We cannot Envy you, because we Love.
Fabius might joy in Scipio, when he saw
A Beardless Consul made against the Law;
And join his Suffrage to the Votes of Rome;
Though he with Hannibal was overcome.
Thus old Romano bow'd to Raphaels Fame;
And Scholar to the Youth he taught, became.

Oh that your Brows my Lawrel had sustain'd,
Well had I been Depos'd if You had Reign'd!
The Father had descended for the Son;
For only You are lineal to the Throne.
Thus when the State one Edward did depose;
A Greater Edward in his Room arofe.

But

But now, not I, but Poetry is curs'd; For Tom the Setond reigns like Tom the First. But let 'em not mistake my Patrons Part Nor call his Charity their own Desert. Yet this I Prophesie; Thou shalt be seen, (Tho' with some short Parenthesis between :) High on the Throne of Wit; and Seated there, Not mine (that's little) but thy Lawrel wear. Thy first Attempt an early Promise made; That early Promise this has more than paid. So bold, yet so judiciously you dare, That your least Praise, is to be Regular. Time, Place, and Action, may with Pains be [taught. But Genius must be born; and never can be This is Your Portion;this Your Native Store; Heav'n, that but once was Prodigal before, To Shakespear gave as much; the cou'd not

wrought,

}

give him more. Maintain your Post: That's all the Fame you

need;

For'tis impoffible you shou'd proceed. Already I am worn with Cares and Age; And just abandoning th'Ungrateful Stage: Unprofitably kept at Heav'ns Expence, I live a Rent-charge on his Providence: But You, whom ev'ry Muse and Grace adorn, Whom I foresee to better Fortune born, Be kind to my Remains; and ob defend, Against your Judgment, your departed Friend! Let not th' insulting Foe my Fame pursue; But Jhade those Lawrels which descend to You : And take for Tribute what these Lines express: You merit more; nor cou'd my Love do less.

John Dryden.

PRO

Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.

Mwers

OORS have this Way (as as Story tells) to know
Whether their Brats are truly got,
Into the Sea the New-born Babe is thrown,
There, as Instinct directs, to swim, or drown.
Abarbarous Device, to try if Spouse
Has kept religiously her Nuptial Vows.

Such are the Trials, Poets make of Plays:
Only they trust to more inconstant Seas;
So does our Author, this his Child commit
To the tempestuous Mercy of the Pit,
To know if it be truly born of Wit.

Criticks avaunt; for you are Fish of prey,
And feed, like Sharks, upon an Infant Play.
Be ev'ry Monster of the Deep away;
Let's have a fair Trial and a clear Sea.

:

}

}

Let Nature work, and do not damu too soon, For Life will (truggle long, e're it fink down: And will at least rife thrice, before it drown. S Let us confider, had it been our Fate, Thus hardly to be prov'd Legitimate! I will not say, we'd all in Danger been, Were each to suffer for his Mothers Sin: But by my Troth I cannot avoid thinking, How nearly fome good Men might have 'scap'd finking. But, Heav'n be prais'd, this Custom is confin'd Alone to the Offspring of the Mules kind. Our Chriftian Cuckolds are more bent to Pitys Iknow not one Moor-Husband in the City. I'th' good Mans Arms the Chopping Bastard thrives, For he thinks all his own, that is his Wives.

Whatever Fate is for this Play design'd,

The Poet's fure he shall fome Comfort find:

:

For if his Muse has play'd him false, the worst
That can befal him, is, to be divorc'd;

You Husbands judge, if that, be to be Curs'd.

DRAMATIS

PERSONÆ.

ΜΕΝ.

}

MASKWELL, A Villain; pretended Friend to Mellefont, Gallant to Lady Touchwood, and in Love with Cynthia.

LORD TOUCHWOOD, Uncle to Mellefont.
MELLEFONT, promised to, and in Love with
Cynthia.

CARELESS, his Friend.
LORD FORTH, A Solemn Coxcomb.

BRISK, A pert Coxcomb.

SIR PAUL PLYANT, An Uxorious, Foolish old Knight; Brother to Lady Touchwood, and Fa

ther to Cynthia.

WOMEN.

LADY TouchWOOD, In Love with Mellefont. CYNTHIA, Daughter so Sir Paulby a former Wife, promised to Mellefont.

LADY FROTH, A great Cocquet ; pretender to Poetry, Wit, and Learning.

LADY PLYANT, Insolent to her Husband, and cafie to any Pretender.

Chaplain, Boy, Footmen, and Attendants.

The SCENE, A Gallery in in the Lord Touchwoods House, with Chambers adjoining.

THE