Delighted Love his fpoils does boast,
And triumph in this game.
Fire, to no place confin'd,
Is both our wonder and our fear,
Moving the mind,
As lightning hurled thro' the air.
High heav'n the glory does increase
Of all her fhining lamps this artful way;
The fun in figures, fuch as these,
Joys with the moon to play:
To the fweet ftrains they advance,
Which do refult from their own fpheres,
As this nymph's dance
Peace, Chloris! peace! or finging die,
That together you and I
To heav'n may go;
For all we know
Of what the bleffed do above,
Is that they fing, and that they love.
Tell her that waftes her time and me,
That now fhe knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair fhe feems to be.
And fhuns to have her graces spy'd,
That hadft thou fprung
In deferts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended dy'd.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retir'd:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be defir'd,
And not blush so to be admir'd.
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee,
How fmall a part of time they share
That are fo wondrous fweet and fair!
MRS. KNIGHT, TO HER MAJESTY,
ON HER BIRTHDAY.
THIS happy day two lights are feen,
A glorious Saint, a matchless Queen;
Both nam'd alike, both crown'd appear,
The faint above, th' Infanta here.
May all thofe years which Catharine
The Martyr did for heav'n refign,
Be added to the line
Of your bleft life among us here!
For all the pains that she did feel,
And all the torments of her wheel,
May you as many pleasures share!
May Heav'n itself content
With Catharine the Saint!
Without appearing old,
An hundred times may you,
With eyes as bright as now,
This welcome day behold!
PROLOGUE FOR THE LADY-ACTORS:
SPOKEN BEFORE K. CHARLES II.
AMAZE us not with that majestick frown,
But lay afide the greatness of your crown!
And for that look which does your people awe,
When in your throne and robes you give them law,
Lay it by here, and give a gentler smile,
Such as we fee great Jove's in picture, while
He liftens to Apollo's charming lyre,
Or judges of the fongs he does infpire.
Comedians on the stage shew all their skill,
And after do as Love and Fortune will.
We are lefs careful, hid in this disguise;
In our own clothes more ferious and more wife.
Modeft at home, upon the stage more bold,
We feem warm lovers, tho' our breafts be cold:
A fault committed here deferves no fcorn,
If we act well the parts to which we're born.
TO THE MAID'S TRAGEDY.
SCARCE fhould we have the boldness to pretend
So long-renown'd a tragedy to mend,
Had not already fome deferv'd your praise
With like attempt. Of all our elder plays
This and Philafter have the loudest fame:
Great are their faults, and glorious is their flame.
In both our English genius is exprefs'd;
Lofty and bold, but negligently drefs'd.
Above our neighbours our conceptions are;
But faultlefs writing is th' effect of care.
Our lines reform'd, and not compos'd in hafte,
Polifh'd like marble, would like marble last.
But as the prefent, so the last age writ:
In both we find like negligence and wit.
Were we but lefs indulgent to our faults,
And patience had to cultivate our thoughts,
Our Mufe would flourish, and a nobler rage
Would honour this than did the Grecian stage.
Thus fays our Author, not content to fee
That others write as carelessly as he ;
Tho' he pretends not to make things complete,
Yet, to please you, he 'd have the poets sweat.
In this old play, what 's new we have exprest
In rhyming verfe, distinguish'd from the reft;
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