Nor is thy fame on leffer ruins built,
Nor need thy juster title the foul guilt
Of eastern kings, who, to fecure their reign,
Must have their brothers, fons, and kindred, flain.
Then was Wit's empire at the fatal height,
When labouring and finking with its weight,
From thence a thousand leffer poets sprung,
Like petty princes from the fall of Rome;
When Johnfon, Shakespeare, and hyself, did fit,
And fway'd in the triumvirate of wit-

Yet what from Johnson's oil and fweat did flow,
Or what more eafy Nature did bestow
On Shakespeare's gentler Muse, in thee full grown,
Their graces both appear, yet so that none
Can fay, here Nature ends and Art begins,
But inix'd like th' elements, and born like twins,
So interwove, fo like, fo much the fame,
None this mere Nature, that mere Art can name.
"Twas this the ancients meant : nature and skill
Are the two tops of their Parnaffus' hill.

AT THE

BUT will you now to peace incline,
And languish in the main design,
And leave us in the lurch?
I would not monarchy destroy,
But as the only way t' enjoy
The ruin of the church.

Is not the Bishops' bill deny'd,
And we ftill threaten'd to be try'd?
You fee the King embraces
Those counfels he approv'd before;
Nor doth he promife, which is more,
That we shall have their places.

Did I for this bring in the Scot?
(For 'tis no fecret now) the plot
Was Saye's and mine together.
Did I for this return again,
And spend a winter there in vain,
Once more t' invite them hither?

Though more our money than our caufe
'Their brotherly affiftance draws,
My labour was not loft.

At my return I brought you thence
Neceffity, their strong pretence,
And these shall quit the coft.

Did I for this my country bring
To help their knight against their king,
And raise the first fedition?
Though I the bus'nefs did decline,
Yet I contriv'd the whole design,
And fent them their petition.

So many nights spent in the City
In that invifible Committee,
The wheel that governs all :

From thence the change in church and state,
And all the mischief, beats the date
From Haberdashers' Hall.

Did we force Ireland to despair, Upon the King to caft the war, To make the world abhor him,

Because the rebels us'd his name? Though we ourselves can do the fanie, While both alike were for him.

Then the fame fire we kindled here With what was given to quench it there, And wifely loft that nation:

To do as crafty beggars use,

To maim themselves, thereby t' abuse
The fimple man's compassion.

Have I fo often past between
Windfor and Westminster unfeen,
And did myself divide,

To keep his Excellence in awe,
And give the Parliament the law?
For they knew none befide.

Did I for this take pains to teach
Our zealous ignorants to preach,
And did their lungs infpire;

Gave them their texts, fhew'd them their parts,
And taught them all their little arts
To fling abroad the fire?

Sometimes to beg, fometimes to threaten,
And fay the Cavaliers are beaten,
To ftroke the people's ears;

Then ftraight when victory grows cheap,
And will no more advance the heap,
To raise the price of fears.

And now the books, and now the bells,

And now our act, the preacher tells,
To edify the people;

All our divinity is news,

And we have made of equal ufe

The pulpit and the steeple.

And fhall we kindle all this flame

Only to put it out again?

And muit we now give o'ër,
And only end where we begun?
In vain this mischief we have done,

If we can do no more.

AFTER fo many concurring petitions
From all ages and fexes, and all conditions,
We come in the rear to present our follies
To Pym, Stroude, Haslerig, Hampden, and Holles.
Though fet form of prayer be an abomination,
Set forms of petitions find great approbation;
Therefore as others from th' bottom of their fouls,
So we from the depth and bottom of our bowels,
According unto the blefs'd form you have taught us,
We thank you firft for the ills you have brought us:
For the good we receive we thank him that gave it,
And you for the confidence only to crave it.
Next, in courfe, we complain of the great violation
Of privilege; (like the reft of our nation)
But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken,
Which never had being until they were broken;
But ours is a privilege ancient and native,
Hangs not an ordinance or pow'r legislative.
And, first, 'tis to speak whatever we please,
Without fear of a prifon or purfuivants' fees.
Next, that we only may lie by authority;
But in that also you have got the priority.
Next, an old cuftom, our fathers did name it
Poetical Licence, and always did claim it.
By this we have pow'r to change age into youth,
Turn nonfenfe to fenfe, and falfehood to truth;
In brief, to make good whatfoever is faulty;
This art fome poet, or the devil, has taught ye :

And this our property you have invaded,
And a privilege of both Houses have made it.
But that truft above all in poets repofed,
That kings by them only are made and deposed:
This though you cannot do, yet you are willing;
But when we undertake depofing or killing,
They're tyrants and monsters; and yet then the poet
Takes full vengeance on the villains that do it.
And when we refume a fceptre or crown,
We are modeft, and feek not to make it our own.
But is't not presumption to write verses to you,
Who make better poems by far of the two?
For all thofe pretty knacks you compose,
Alas! what are they but poems in profe?
And between thofe and ours there's no difference,
But that yours want the rhyme, the wit, and the
But for lying (the most noble part of a poet) [sense.
You have it abundantly, and yourselves know it;
And though you are modest and feem to abhor it,
It has done you good service, and thank Hell for it.
Although the old maxin remains still in force,
That a fanctify'd cause must have a fanctify'd course,
If poverty be a part of our trade,

So far the whole kingdom poets you have made;
Nay, even fo far as undoing will do it,
You have made King Charles himself a poet :
But provoke not his Mufe, for all the world knows
Already you have had too much of his profe.