e
_Care_ to be _Ill_, then to be _Good_, _before_.
For _nothing but so great Infirmity,
Could make Them worthy of such Remedy.

Have you not scene the Suns almighty Ray
Rescue th' affrighted World_, and _redeeme Day_
From _blacke despaire_: how his _victorious Beame_
_Scatters_ the _Storme_, and _drownes_ the _petty flame_
Of _Lightning_, in the _glory_ of his _eye_:
How _full_ of _pow'r_, how _full_ of _Majesty?_
When to _us Mortals, nothing_ else was _knowne_,
But the _sad doubt_, whether to _burne_, or _drowne_.

_Choler_, and _Phlegme, Heat_, and _dull Ignorance,_
Have cast _the people_ into _such_ a _Trance_,
That _feares_ and _danger_ seeme _Great equally_,
And no _dispute_ left now, but _how_ to _dye_.
Just in _this nicke, Fletcher sets the world cleare_
Of all disorder and reformes us here.

The _formall Youth_, that knew _no_ other _Grace_,
Or _Value_, but his _Title_, and his _Lace_,
_Glasses himselfe_: and in _this faithfull Mirrour_,
_Views, disaproves, reformes, repents_ his _Errour_.

The _Credulous, bright Girle_, that _beleeves all_
_Language_, (in _Othes_) if _Good, Canonicall_,
Is _fortifi'd_, and _taught, here_, to _beware_
Of _ev'ry_ specious _bayte_, of _ev'ry snare_
Save _one_: and _that_ same _Caution_ takes her _more_,
Then _all_ the _flattery_ she _felt before_.
She finds her _Boxes_, and her _Thoughts betray'd_
By the _Corruption_ of the _Chambermaide_:
_Then throwes_ her _Washes_ and _dissemblings_ By;
And _Vowes_ nothing but _Ingenuity_.

The _severe States-man quits_ his _sullen forme_
Of _Gravity_ and _bus'nesse_; The _Luke-warme_
_Religious_ his _Neutrality_; The _hot_
_Braine-sicke Illuminate_ his _zeale; The Sot_
_Stupidity_; The _Souldier_ his _Arreares_;
The _Court_ its _Confidence_; The _Plebs_ their _feares_;
_Gallants_ their _Apishnesse_ and _Perjurie_,
_Women_ their _Pleasure_ and _Inconstancie_;
_Poets_ their _Wine_; the _Usurer_ his _Pelfe_;
The _World_ its _Vanity_; and _I_ my _Selfe_.

Roger L'Estrange.

COMMENDATORY

On the Dramatick Poems of Mr JOHN FLETCHER.

_Wonder! who's here?_ Fletcher, _long buried
Reviv'd? Tis he! hee's risen from the Dead.
His winding sheet put off, walks above ground,
Shakes off his Fetters, and is better bound.
And may he not, if rightly understood,
Prove Playes are lawfull? he h