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Who me unfriended brought'st by wondrous ways,
“O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, The kingdom of my fathers to possess: Or bind thy sentence unconditional;
But in thy sentence our remorse foresee,
And, in that foresight, this thy doom re“ Be thou my judge, with what unwearied
call. I since have labor'd for my people's good;
“Thy threatings, Lord, as thine thou mayst To bind the bruises of a civil war,
Continue still thyself to give the stroke,
,CCLXXI And recompense, as friends, the good | Th’Eternal heard, and from the heav'nly misled;
choir If mercy be a precept of thy will,
Chose out the cherub with the flaming Return that mercy on thy servant's head.
sword; And bade him swiftly drive th' approaching
fire “Or, if my heedless youth has stepp'd From where our naval magazins were astray,
stor'd. Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand; On me alone thy just displeasure lay, But take thy judgments from this mourn- The blessed minister his wings display'd, ing land.
And like a shooting star he cleft the
He charg’d the flames, and those that dis“We all have sinn'd, and thou hast laid us
He lash'd to duty with his sword of As humble earth from whence at first we
Tho' made immortal by a poet's song, Each household genius shews again his face, And poets' songs the Theban walls could And from the hearths the little Lares raise.
creep. . CCLXXVI
CCLXXXIII The daring flames peep'd in, and saw from Our king this more than natural change
beholds; The awful beauties of the sacred choir; With sober joy his heart and eyes But, since it was profan'd by civil war,
abound: Heav'n thought it fit to have it purg'd by To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, fire.
And thanks him low on his redeemed
ground. CCLXXVII Now down the narrow streets it swiftly
As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd And, widely opening, did on both sides the earth, prey:
A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain; This benefit we sadly owe the flame,
And first the tender blade peeps up to If only ruin must enlarge our way.
And straight the green fields laugh with CCLXXVIII
promis'd grain: And now four days the sun had seen our
woes; Four nights the moon bebeld th' inces- By such degrees the spreading gladness sant fire:
grew It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, In every heart which fear had froze beAnd farther from the fev'rish north retire.
The standing streets with so much joy they CCLXXIX
view, In th’empyrean heaven, (the blest abode,) That with less grief the perish'd they The Thrones and the Dominions pros
deplore. trate lie, Not daring to behold their angry God; And an hush'd silence damps the tuneful The father of the people open'd wide sky.
His stores, and all the poor with plenty
Thus God's anointed God's own place supAt length th' Almighty cast a pitying eye,
plied, And mercy softly touch'd his melting And fill’d the empty with his daily bread.
breast: He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie,
CCLXXXVII And eager flames drive on to storm the
This royal bounty brought its own reward, rest.
And in their minds so deep did print the
That if their ruins sadly they regard, An bollow crystal pyramid he takes,
'T is but with fear the sight might drive In firmamental waters dipp'd above;
him thence. Of it a broad extinguisher he makes And hoods the flames that to their quarry strove.
But so may he live long, that town to sway,
Which by his auspice they
will nobler make,
1150 to the king The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every As he will hatch their ashes by not to leave
them. place, Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: And not their humble ruins now forsake.
Her widening streets on new foundations They have not lost their loyalty by fire;
trust, Nor is their courage or their wealth so And, opening, into larger parts she flies.
low, That from his wars they poorly would retire,
Before, she like some shepherdess did show, Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe. Who sate to bathe her by a river's side;
Not answering to her fame, but rude and
low, Not with more constancy the Jews of Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern old,
pride. By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent, Their royal city did in dust behold, 1159 Or with more vigor to rebuild it went. Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold,
From her high turrets, hourly suitors CCXCI The utmost malice of their stars is past, The East with incense, and the West with And two dire comets, which have scourg'd gold, the town,
Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her In their own plague and fire have breath'd
doom. their last,
CCXCVIII Or, dimly, in their sinking sockets frown.
The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, CCXCII
Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping Now frequent trines the happier lights
And often wind, (as of his mistress proud,) And high-rais'd Jove, from his dark With longing eyes to meet her face prison freed,
again. (Those weights took off that on his planet hung)
CCXCIX Will gloriously the new-laid works suc- The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier ceed.
The glory of their towns no more shall CCXCIII
boast; Methinks already, from this chymic flame, And Seine, that would with Belgian rivers I see a city of more precious mold, 1190
join, Rich as the town which gives
Shall find her luster stain’d, and traffic the (b) Indies name,
lost. With silver pav'd, and all divine with gold.
The vent'rous merchant, who design’d more CCXCIV
far, Already, laboring with a mighty fate,
And touches on our hospitable shore, She shakes the rubbish from her mount- Charm'd with the splendor of this northern ing brow,
star, And seems to have renew'd her cbarter's Shall here unlade him, and depart no
date, Which Heav'n will to the death of time allow.
Our pow'rful navy shall no longer meet, ССхсу
The wealth of France or Holland to inMore great than human, now, and more vade; (c) august,
(c) Augusta, The beauty of this town, without a fleet, New-deified she from her the old name From all the world shall vindicate her fires does rise:
PROLOGUE, EPILOGUE, AND
Plays are like towns, which, howe'er forti
fied OR, THE MAIDEN QUEEN
By engineers, have still some weaker side [Pepys saw The Maiden Queen, a new play By the o'er-seen defendant unespied. of Dryden's," on March 2, 1667. The play was entered on the Stationers' Register on August 7 of that year (Malone, I, 1, 69); the first edition is dated 1668. The epilogue
And with that art you make approaches now; printed with the play was“ by a person of
Such skilful fury in assaults you show, honor;" that given below is taken from The That every poet without shame may
bow. Covent Garden Drollery, a small miscellany published in 1672, which contains a large number of prologues and epilogues, some of them Ours therefore humbly would attend your known to be by Dryden. There is, however,
doom, no absolute proof that the present epilogue is If, soldier-like, he may have terms to come his work. The song is one which the Maiden
With flying colors and with beat of drum. Queen “made of her lover Philocles and "call'd ... Secret Love."]
[The PROLOGUE goes out, and stays while a tune is play'd,
after which he returns again. PROLOGUE
I had forgot one half, I do protest, He who writ this, not without pains and And now am sent again to speak the rest. thought
He bows to every great and noble wit; From French and English theaters has But to the little Hectors of the pit brought
Our poet's sturdy, and will not submit. Th' exactest rules by which a play is He 'll be beforehand with 'em, and not stay wrought:
To see each peevish critic stab his play:
Is cheaply witty on the poet's cost.
And the same law should shield him from
their fury But while dead colors he with care did lay, Which has excluded butchers from a jury. He fears his wit or plot he did not weigh, You 'd all be wits Which are the living beauties of a play. But writing 's tedious, and that way may fail;
Thus our poor poet would have scap'd to
day, But from the herd I singled out his play. Then heigh along with me Both great and small, you poets of the
town, And Nell will love you, [f]or to run him
The most compendious method is to rail; Which you so like, you think yourselves ill
us'd When in smart prologues you are not
abus'd. A civil prologue is approv'd by no man; You hate it as you do a civil woman: Your fancy's pall’d, and liberally you pay To have it quicken'd, ere you see a play; Just as old sinners, worn from their de
light, Give money to be whipp'd to appetite. But what a pox keep I so much ado To save our poet? He is one of you; A brother judgment, and, as I hear say, A cursed critic as e'er damn'd a play. Good salvage gentlemen, your own kind
spare; He is, like you, a very wolf or bear. Yet think not he'll your ancient rights in
vade, Or stop the course of your free damning
trade; For he, he vows, at no friend's play can sit, But he must needs find fault to shew his
wit. Then, for his sake, ne'er stint your own de
light; Throw boldly, for he sets to all that write: With such he ventures on an even lay, For they bring ready money into play. Those who write not, and yet all writers
nick, Are bankrupt gamesters, for they damn on
I FEED a flame within, which so torments
me, That it both pains my heart, and yet con
tents me: 'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, That I had rather die then once remove it.
Yet he for whom I grieve shall never
know it; My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes
show it: Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, But they fall silently, like dew on roses.
Thus to prevent my love from being cruel, My heart's the sacrifice, as 't is the fuel: 10 And while I suffer this, to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, tho' he deny it.
On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight
me; Where I conceal my love, no frown can
fright me: To be more happy, I dare not aspire; Nor can I fall more low, mounting no
THE Prologue durst not tell, before 't was
seen, The plot we had to swinge The Maiden
Queen; For had we then discover'd our intent, The fop who writ it had not giv'n conse Or the new peaching trick at least had
shown, And brought in others' faults to hide his
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE WILD GALLANT, REVIV'D
[See note on p. 18, above.]
That wit he has been by his betters taught, When he's accus'd to shew another's fault. When one wit's hunted hard, by joint
consent Another claps betwixt and does prevent 10 His death, for many hares still foil the
As some raw squire, by tender mother bred, Till one and twenty keeps his maiden
head, (Pleas’d with some sport, which he alone