pen
Did not alone make plays, but also men.

E. B.[12]

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.

Bless me, you sacred Sisters! What a throng
Of choice encomiums 's press'd? such as was sung
When the sweet singer Stesichorus liv'd;
Upon whose lips the nightingale surviv'd.
What makes my sickly fancy hither hie
(Unless it be for shelter), when the eye
Of each peculiar artist makes a quest
After my slender judgment? then a jest
Dissolves my thoughts to nothing, and my pains
Has its reward in adding to my stains.
But as the river of Athamas can fire
The sullen wood, and make its flames aspire,
So the infused comfort I receive
By th' tie of friendship, prompts me to relieve
My fainting spirits, and with a full sail
Rush 'mongst your argosies; despite of hail
Or storms of critics, friend, to thee I come:
I know th' hast harbour, I defy much room:
Besides, I'll pay thee for't in grateful verse,
Since that thou art wit's abstract, I'll rehearse:
Nothing shall wool your ears with a long phrase
Of a sententious folly; for to raise
Sad pyramids of flattery, that may be
Condemn'd for the sincere prolixity.
Let envy turn her mantle, and expose
Her rotten entrails to infect the rose,
Or pine--like greenness of thy extant wit:
Yet shall thy Homer's shield demolish it.
Upon thy quill as on an eagle's wing,
Thou shalt be led through th' air's sweet whispering:
And with thy pen thou shalt engrave thy name
(Better than pencil) in the list of fame.

I. TATHAM.[13]

ON MASTER RAWLINS AND HIS TAILOR, IN "THE REBELLION."

In what a strange dilemma stood my mind,
When first I saw the tailor, and did find
It so well-fraught with wit! but when I knew
The noble tailor to proceed from you,
I stood amaz'd, as one with thunder struck,
And knew not which to read; you or your book.
I wonder how you could, being of our race,
So eagle-like look Phoebus in the face.
I wonder how you could, being so young,
And teeming yet, encounter with so strong
And firm a story; 'twould indeed have prov'd
A subject for the wisest, that had lov'd
To suck at Aganippe. But go on,
My best of friends; and as you have begun
With that is good, so let your after-times
Transcendent be. Apollo he still shines
On the best wits; and if a Momus chance
On this thy volume scornfully to glance,
Melpomene will defend, and you shall see,
That virtue will at length make envy flee.