PLAY E R.
I can counterfeit the deep Tragedian,
Speak, and look back, and pry on ev'ry fide,
Tremble and start at wagging of a Straw,
Intending deep Suspicion. Ghaftly Looks
Are at my Service, like enforced Smiles

s ; And both are ready in their Offices, At any Time to grace my Stratagems. Shak. Rich. 3.

Is it not monstrous that this Player here,
But in a Fiction, in a Dream of Passion,
Could force his Soul so to his whole Conceit,
That from her Working all his Visage warm’d,
Tears in his Eyes, Distraction in his aspect,

A broken Voice, and his whole Function suiting,
7 With Forms to his Conceit ? and all for Nothing!

For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should

weep

for her ? what would he do Had he the Motive, and the Cue for Pallion That I have ? he would drown the Stage with Tears,

And cleave the general Ear with horrid Speech : - Make mad the Guilty, and a pale the Free,

Confound the Ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very Faculties of Eyes and Ears. Shak. Haml.

Like a Player,
Bellowing his Paffion'till he break the Spring,
And his rack'd Voice jar to the Audience.

(Shak. Troil. Crel. The purple Emp'rors, who in Bufkins tread, And rule imaginary Worlds for Bread.

Gar.

PL E A SU RE.
Pleasure never comes fincere to Man,
But lent by Heav'n upon hard Usury :
And while fove holds us out the Bowl of Joy,
E’er it can reach our Lips, ’ris dalhi'd with Gall
By fome Left-handed God,

Dryd. Oedip.

PL ELADE S.

PLEIADES.

Ye too, ye Pleiades deftructive shine,
And marr the Beauties of a lovely Line;

Your felves, tho' brighteft in th' Etherial Plains,
Tho' ev'ry Face fair Pleione retains,

And in each Daughter-Star the lovely Mother reigns;
Yet ah! no Joy arifes from your Sway,

If Cynthia blend not her o'er-ruling Ray;
She forms the waxen Arms, the Limbs refines,
By her the Skin, a polish'd Surface shines,
And Beauty follows as fhe draws the Lines.

PLUTO's Dominions.

So, by and by

}

Through that thick covert he him led, and found A darkfome way, which no man could defcry, That deep defcending through the hollow ground, And was with dread and horrour compaffed around.

At length they came into a larger fpace, That stretcht it felf into an ample plaine,

Through which a beated broad high way did trace,
That straight did lead to Pluto's griefly raigne :
By that waies fide there fate infernal paine,
And faft befide him fate tumultuous strife:]

The one in hand an iron whip did ftraine ;
The other brandifhed a bloody knife,

And both did gnafh their teeth, and both did threaten

(life.

On the other fide, in one confort there fate

Cruel Revenge, and rancorous Defpight,
Difloyal Treafon, and heart-burning Hate:
But gnawing Jealoufie out of their fight
Sitting alone, his bitter Lips did bite,

And trembling Fear still to and fro did fly,
And found no place where fafe he shroud him might,
Lamenting Sorrow did in darkness lye,

And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.

And

And over them fad Horrour with grim hew,
Did alwaies fore; beating his iron Wings;
And after him, Owles and Night-Ravens flew,
The hateful Meffengers of heavy things,
Of death and dolour telling fad tydings;
Whiles fad Celeon, fitting on a clift,
A fong of bale and bitter Sorrow fings,

The Heart of flint afunder could have rift:
Which haveing ended after him he flieth fwift.

POETRY.

But ftill the Muses claim a just Esteem :
The Bard fees Visions, but Romancers dream.
The moral Verse will always be admir'd ;
Poets may teach, for Poets are infpir'd.
Virtue thus drefs'd, is lovely in Difguife,
And Verfe will find him who a Sermon flies.

Mean as I am, yet have the Mufes made
Me free, a Member of the tuneful Trade :
I could have once fung down a Summer's Sun,
But now the Chime of Poetry is done.
My Voice grows hoarfe, I feel the Notes decay;
For Cares and Time.

(Spen

Change all Things, and untune my Soul for Rhyme. (Dryd. Virg

POPE.

When Pope's harmonious Mufe with Pleafure roves Amidst the Plains, the murm'ring Streams and Groves, Attentive Echo, pleas'd to hear his Songs,

Thro' the glad Shade each warbling Note prolongs;
His various Numbers charm our ravish'd Ears,
His fteady Judgment far out-shoots his Years,
And early in the Youth the God appears.

POPULACE.

The Vulgar, a scarce-animated Clod,

Ne'er pleas'd with ought above em, Prince or God.

(Dryd Auren,

That

That hot mouth'd Beast that bears against the Curb: Hard to be broken ev'n by lawful Kings,

But harder by Ufurpers.

Almighty Crowd! thou shorten'st all Difpute, Pow'r is thy Effence, Wit thy Attribute:

Nor Faith nor Reafon makes thee at a Stay,

Thou leap'ft o'er all eternal Truths in thy Pindarick

(Way. Dryd. Med. Bafe mongril Souls! flesh 'em but once with Fortune, And they will worry Royalty to Death:

But if fome crabbed Virtue turn and pinch 'em ;
They'l run, and yelp, and clap their Tails,

Like Curs, betwixt their Legs, and howl for Mercy.
(Lee's D. of Guife.

Diffentious Rogues,

That rubbing the poor Itch of your Opinions,

Make your felves Scabs.

That like not Peace nor War; the one affrights you, The Rabble gather round the Man of News,

And liften with their Mouths.

Some tell, fome hear, fome judge of News,fome make it, And he that lies most loud is moft believ❜d.

(Dryd. Span. Fry.

The Streets are thicker in this Noon of Night Than at the Mid-day Sun: A drowzy Horror Sits on their Eyes, like Fear not well awake: All crowd in Heaps, as at a Night Alarm, The Bees drive out upon each others Backs, T'imbofs their Hives in Clusters: all afk News, Their bufy Captain runs the weary Round, To whifper Orders; and commanding Silence, Makes not Noise cease, but deafens it to Murmurs. (Dryd. Don. Seb. The Common-wealth is fick of their own Choice, Their over-greedy Love has furfeited:

A Habitation giddy and unfure

Has he that builds upon the vulgar Hearts.
O thou fond many! with what loud Applaufe

Did'st thou beat Heav'n with bleffing Bullingbrook,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be?
But being trimm'd up in thy own Defires,
Thou beastly Feeder art fo full of him,
That thou provok'it thy felf to caft him up.
So, fo thou common Dog, didst thou difgorge
Thy glutton Bofom of the Royal Richard,

And now thou would't eat thy dead Vomit up,
And howl'ft to find it: What Truft is in thefe Times?
They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd of his Grave:
Thou that threw'ft Duft upon his goodly Head,
When thro' proud London he came fighing on,
After th' admir'd Heels of Bullingbrook,

Cry'st now, O Earth! yield us that King again,
And take thou this.
Shak. 2 Part Hen. 4.

POPULAR.

Th' admiring Crowd are dazled with Surprize,
And on his goodly Perfon feed their Eyes:
His Joy conceal'd, he fets himself to Show,
On each Side bowing popularly low :

His Looks, his Gestures, and his Words he frames,
And with familiar Eafe repeats their Names.
Thus form'd by Nature, furnish d out with Arts,
He glides unfelt into their fecret Hearts;
Fame runs before him, as the Morning Star,
And Shouts of Joy falute him from afar.
Each House receives him as a Guardian-God,
And confecrates the Place of his Abode.

Thou art thy longing Country's Darling and Defire,
Their cloudy Pillar, and their Guardian Fire:
Their fecond Mofes, whofe extended Wand
Divides the Seas, and fhews the promis'd Land:
Whofe dawning Day in ev'ry diftant Age,
Has exercis'd the facred Prophet's Rage;
The People's Pray'r, the glad Diviners Theme,
The young Mens Vifion, and the old Mens Dream.

Thee