Thou couldst anatomife with ready Art,

And skilful Hand, Crimes lockt close up i' th' Heart.
Thou couldst unfold dark Plots, and fhew that Path
By which Ambition climb'd to Greatness bath;
Thou couldst the Rifes, Turns, and Falls of States,
How near they were their Periods and Dates;
Couldft mad the Subject into popular Rage,
And the grown Seas of that great Storm afwage;
Dethrone ufurping Tyrants, and place there
The lawful Prince and true Inheriter;
Knew'st all dark Turnings in the Labyrinth
Of Policy, which who but knows he finn' th,
Save thee, who un-infected didst walk in't
As the great Genius of Government.
And when thou laidft thy Tragic Buskin by
To court the Stage with gentle Comedy,
How new, how proper th' Humours, how exprefs'd
In rich Variety, how neatly drefs'd

In Language, how rare Plots, what Strength of Wit
Shin'd in the Face and every Limb of it!
The Stage grew narrow while thou grewft to be
In thy whole Life an Exc❜llent Comedy.

To thefe a Virgin-modefty which firft met
Applaufe with Blush and Fear, as if be yet
Had not deferv'd; 'till bold with conftant Praife
His Brows admitted the unfought for Bays.
Nor would be ravish Fame; but let Men free
To their own Vote and Ingenuity.

When his fair Shepherdefs on the guilty Stage,
Was martyr'd between Ignorance and Rage;
At which the impatient Virtues of those few
Could judge, grew high, cry'd Murder: though he knew
The Innocence and Beauty of his Child

He only, as if unconcerned, fmil'd,

Princes

43 Princes have gather'd fince each fcatter'd Grace,
Each Line and Beauty of that injur'd Face
And on th' united Parts breath'd fuch a Fire
As fpight of Malice fhe fhall ne'er expire.
Attending, not affecting, thus the Crown,
Till every Hand did help to set it on,
He came to be fole Monarch, and did reign
In Wit's great Empire, abs❜lute Sovereign.

44 John Harris,

On Mr. JOHN FLETCHER, and his WORKS, never before Published.

T

XIX.

O flatter living Fools is eafy Slight:

But hard, to do the living-dead Men Right.

43 Princes have gather'd fince each scatter'd Grace,

Each Line and Beauty of that injur'd Face;] This relates to King Charles the Firft caufing The Faithful Shepherdess to be reviv'd, and acted before him. The Lines are extremely beautiful, and do honour to the King's Tafte in Poetry, which as it comes from an Adverfary (tho certainly a very candid one, and who before condemn'd the Fire-brandScriblers and Meteor-Wits of his Age) is a ftrong Proof of its being a very good one. Queen Elizabeth may be call'd the Mother of the English Poets; James the First was a Pedagogue to them, encourag'd their Literature but debas'd it with Puns and Pedantry: Charles the First reviv'd a good Tafte, but the Troubles of his Reign prevented the great Effects of his Patronage.

44 John Harris was of New-College, Oxford, Greek Profeffor of the University, and fo eminent a Preacher that he was call'd a fecond Chryfoftom. In the Civil Wars he fided with the Presbyterians, and was one of the Affembly of Divines, and is the only Poet in this Collection whom we certainly know to have been for the Parliament against the King. His Poem has great Merit; the fine Break after the mention of the Earl of Effex, and the Simile of the Elm and Clusters of Grapes, deserve a particular Attention. After this Simile I have ftruck out fome Lines that were unequal in Merit to their Brethren, left the Reader, tired with thefe, fhould ftop too fhort; for those which now follow, tho' unjust with regard to Beaumont, are poetically good.

/ To

To praife a landed Lord, is gainful Art:
But thankless to pay Tribute to Defert.
This fhould have been my Task: 1 had Intent
To bring my Rubbish to thy Monument,
To ftop fome Crannies there, but that I found
No Need of leaft Repair; all firm and found.
Thy well-built Fame doth fill itself advance
Above the World's mad Zeal and Ignorance.
Though thou diedft not poffeft of that fame Pelf,
Which nobler Souls call Dirt, the City, Wealth:
Yet thou haft left unto the Times fo great
A Legacy, a Treafure fo compleat,

That 'twill be hard, I fear, to prove thy Will:
Men will be Wrangling, and in Doubting ftill,
How fo vaft Sums of Wit were left behind;
And yet nor Debts, nor Sharers, they can find.
'Twas the kind Providence of Fate to lock
Some of this Treasure up; and keep a Stock
For a Referve until thefe fullen Days:

When Scorn, and Want, and Danger, are the Bays
That crown the Head of Merit. But now he,
Who in thy Will bath part, is rich and free.
But there's a Caveat enter'd by Command,
None fhould pretend, but those can understand.

45 Henry Moody, Bart.

45 Sir Henry Moody was of the Number of thofe Gentlemen who had honorary Degrees conferr'd by King Charles the Firft at his Return to Oxford after the Battle of Edgehill. The Poem has fome strong Marks of Genius in it, particularly in these Lines,

until thefe fullen Days:

When Scorn, and Want, and Danger, are the Bays

That crown the Head of Merit.

I confess myself a great Admirer of Verfes in Rhime, whofe Paufes run into each other as boldly as blank Verse itself. When our Moderns corrected many Faults in the Measure of our Verfe by making the Accents always fall on right Syllables, and laying afide those harsh Elifions us'd

by

On the Deceased Author, Mr. JOHN FLETCHER, his Plays; and especially, The Mad Lover.

46

XX.

W Hilft bis well-organ'd Body doth retreat

To its firft Matter, and the Formal Heat

Triumphant fits in Judgment to approve
Pieces above our Cenfure, and our Love;

by our ancient Poets, they miftook this Run of the Verfes into each other after the Manner of Virgil, Homer, &c. for a Fault, which depriv'd our Rhime of that Grandeur and Dignity of Numbers which arifes from a perpetual change of Pauses, and turn'd whole Poems into Diftichs,

46 The first four Lines of this Copy of Verfes, I own, are quite above my Comprehenfion. What format Heat can mean, and Heat fitting in Judgment, is a Riddle too intricate for me to guefs at. Then, why any Piece fhould be above our Candour, I am equally at a lofs to understand. If these Verfes are printed among Sir Afton Cokaine's Poems, they may, perhaps, ftand in a more intelligible Plight. But, as I never met with that Gentleman's Writings, I'll venture to fubjoin my Sufpicion how the Text might have originally ftood.

Whilft his well-organ'd Body is retir'd

To its firft Matter, and the formal Herd
Triumphant fits in Judgment, to approve
Pieces above our Cenfure, and our Love;

The formal Herd I would interpret to be the Croud of Fanatics, that
fwarm'd at the Time of the first Publication of Beaumont's and Fletcher's
Works. Then, as to the Correction in the fourth Line, it gives an
Antithefis that makes good Sense; whereas Candour and Love are merely
Tautology. An excellent Work may, with Reafon, be faid to be as
much above Cenfure, as it is above our Admiration and Praifes. The
Word approve, I conceive, is to be taken in an equivocal Senfe; not,
directly, to commend; but to fee whether the Piece, under Judgment,
will stand the Teft of being approved.
Mr. Theobald.

This Note of Mr. Theobald's is ingenious; but there are great Liberties taken, and the Senfe is, I believe, made totally different from the true one, which at beft is very obfcure. Formal Heat, I take to be a metaphyfical and logical Term for the Soul, as the Formal Caufe is that which conftitutes the Effence of any thing. Fletcher's Soul therefore now fits in Judgment, to approve Works deferving of Praise to Cenfure for Candour, it is certainly a very probable Conjecture.

Such,

Such, as dare boldly venture to appear
Unto the curious Eye, and Critic Ear:
Lo, the Mad Lover in these various Times
Is prefs'd to Life, t'accufe us of our Crimes.
While Fletcher liv'd, who equal to him writ
Such lafting Monuments of natural Wit?
Others might draw their Lines with Sweat, like thofe
That (with much Pains) a Garrison inclose;
Whilft his fweet, fluent, Vein did gently run,
As uncontrol'd and smoothly as the Sun.
After his Death, our Theatres did make
Him in his own unequal Language Speak:
And now,
when all the Mufes out of their
Approved Modefty filent appear,,

This Play of Fletcher's braves the envious Light,
As Wonder of our Ears once, now our Sight.
Three-and-fourfold-bleft Poet, who the Lives
Of Poets, and of Theatres, furvives!
A Groom, or Öftler of fome Wit, may bring
His Pegafus to the Caftalian Spring;
Boaft, he a Race o'er the Pharfalian Plain,
Or happy Tempe's Valley, dares maintain :
Brag, at one Leap, upon the double Cliffe
(Were it as high as monstrous Tenariffe)
Of far-renown'd Parnaffus he will get,

And there (t' amaze the World) confirm his Seat:
When our admired Fletcher vaunts not Aught,
And flighted every thing he writ as Naught:
While all our English wondring World (in's Caufe)
Made this great City echo with Applaufe.

Read him, therefore, all that can read; and those, That cannot, learn; if y'are not Learning's Foes And wilfully refolved to refufe

The gentle Raptures of this happy Muse.

From