| |
| TO 1 say this Comedy pleas’d long ago | |
| Is not enough to make it pass you now. | |
| Yet, Gentlemen, your Ancestors had wit, | |
| When few Men censur’d, and when fewer writ; | |
| And Johnson (of those few the best) chose this | 5 |
| As the best Model of his Master-piece. | |
| Subtle was got by our Albumazar, | |
| That Alchymist by his Astrologer: | |
| Here he was fashion’d, and we may 2 suppose | |
| He lik’d the fashion well who wore the 3 Cloaths. | 10 |
| But Ben made nobly his what he did Mould; | |
| What was another’s Lead, becomes 4 his Gold: | |
| Like an unrighteous Conqueror he Reigns, | |
| Yet rules that well, which he unjustly Gains. | |
| But this our Age such Authors does afford, | 15 |
| As make whole Plays, and yet scarce write one word; | |
| Who, in this Anarchy of Wit, rob all, | |
| And what’s their Plunder, their Possession call: | |
| Who, like bold Padders, scorn by Night to prey, | |
| But rob by Sun-shine, in the Face of Day: | 20 |
| Nay scarce the common Ceremony use | |
| Of Stand, Sir, and deliver up your Muse; | |
| But knock the Poet down, and, with a Grace, | |
| Mount Pegasus before the Owner’s Face. | |
| Faith, if you have such Country Toms abroad, | 25 |
| ’Tis time for all true Men to leave that Road. | |
| Yet it were modest, could it but be said, | |
| They strip 5 the Living, but these rob the Dead; | |
| Dare with the Mummies of the Muses play, | |
| And make Love to them the Ægyptian way; | 30 |
| Or, as a Rhiming Author would have said, | |
| Join the Dead Living to the Living Dead. | |
| Such Men 6 in Poetry may claim some Part; | |
| They have the Licence, tho’ they want the Art; | |
| And might, where Theft was prais’d, for Laureats stand, 7 | 35 |
| Poets, not of the Head, but of the Hand. | |
| They make the Benefits 8 of others’ studying, | |
| Much like the Meals of Politick Jack-Pudding, | |
| Whose dish to challenge no Man has the Courage; 9 | |
| ’Tis all his own, when once 10 h’ has spit i’ the Porridge. | 40 |
| But, Gentlemen, you’re all concern’d in this; | |
| You are in Fault for what they do amiss: | |
| For they their Thefts still undiscovered think, | |
| And durst not steal, unless you please to wink. | |
| Perhaps, you may award by your Decree, | 45 |
| They shou’d refund,—but that can never be; 11 | |
| For should you Letters of Reprisal seal, | |
| These Men write that which no Man else would steal. | |
