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She, tinsell'd o'er in robes of varying hues,
With self-applause her wild creation views;
Sees momentary monsters rise and fall,
And with her own fools-colours gilds them all.
'Twas on the day, when ** rich and grave,
Like Cimon triumph'd both on land and wave:
(Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and
maces,

Sepulchral lies, our holy walls to grace,
And new-year odes, and all the Grub-street race.
In clouded majesty here Dulness shone,
Four guardian virtues, round, support her throne:
Fierce champion Fortitude, that knows no fears
Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears:
Calm Temperance, whose blessings those partake
Who hunger, and who thirst, for scribbling sake: 50
Prudence, whose glass presents th' approaching Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and
Poetic Justice, with her lifted scale, [jail :
broad faces)
Where, in nice balance, trnth with gold she weighs,
And solid pudding against empty praise.

Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,
Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,
Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day,
Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:
How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo
lie,

How new-born Nonsense first is taught to cry, 60
Maggots, half-form'd, in rhyme exactly meet,
And learn to crawl upon poetic feet.

70

Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes,
And ductile Dulness new meanders takes ;
There motley images her fancy strike,
Figures ill-pair'd, and símilies unlike.
She sees a mob of metaphors advance,
Pleas'd with the madness of the mazy dance;
How Tragedy and Comedy embrace;
How Farce and Epic get a jumbled race;
How Time himself stands still at her command,
Realms shift their place, and Ocean turns to land;
Here gay description Egypt glads with showers,
Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers;
Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen,
There painted vallies of eternal green,
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.

All these, and more, the cloud-compelling queen
Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene. 80

REMARKS.

Ver. 43. Sepulchral lies,] is a just satire on the flatteries and falsehoods admitted to be inscribed on the walls of churches, in epitaphs; which occasioned the following epigram:

Friend! in your epitaphs, I'm griev'd,
So very much is said;
One half will never be believ'd,

The other never read.

Ver. 44. new-year odes.] Made by the poet laureate for the time being, to be sung at court on every new-year's day, the words of which are happily drowned in the voices and instruments. The new-year odes of the hero of this work were of a cast distinguished from all that preceded him, and made a conspicuous part of his character as a writer, which doubtless induced our author to mention them here so particularly.

- Ver. 45. In clouded majesty here Dulness shone,] See this cloud removed, or rolled back, or gathered up to her head, Book iv. ver. 17, 18. It is worth while to compare this description of the majesty of Dulness in a state of peace and tranquility, with that more busy scene where she mounts the throne in triumph, and is not so much supported by her own virtues, as by the princely consciousness of having destroyed all other.

Ver. 57. genial Jacob] Tonson. The famous race of booksellers of that name.

VOL. XII.

Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er,
But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more. 90
Now mayors and shrieves all hush'd and satiate
Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day? [lay,
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.
Much to the mindful queen the feast recalls
What city swans once sung within the walls;
Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise,
And sure succession down from Heywood's days.
She saw, with joy, the line immortal run,
Each sire imprest and glaring in his son:
So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care,
Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear.
She saw old Pryn in restless Daniel shine,
And Eusden eke out Blackmore's endless line:

VARIATION.

Ver. 85. in the former editions,

100

'Twas on the day, when Thorold, rich and grave.] Sir George Thorold, lord mayor of London in the year 1720.

REMARKS.

Ver. 85, 86. "T was on the day, when ** rich and grave-Like Cimon triumph'd] Viz. a lord mayor's day; his name the author had left in blanks, but most certainly could never be that which the editor foisted in formerly, and which no way agrees with the chronology of the poem. Bentl.

The procession of a lord mayor is made partly by land, and partly by water-Cimon, the famous Athenian general, obtained a victory by sea, and another by land, on the same day, over the Persians and Barbarians.

Ver. 90. But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more.] A beautiful manner of speaking, usual with poets in praise of poetry.

Ibid. But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more.] Settle was poet to the city of London. His office was to compose yearly panegyrics upon the lord mayors, and verses to be spoken in the pageants: But that part of the shows being at length frugally abolished, the employment of city poet ceased; so that upon Settle's demise, there was no successor to that place.

Ver. 98. John Heywood, whose interludes were printed in the time of Henry VIII.

Ver. 103. Old Pryn in restless Daniel] The first edition had it,

She saw in Norton all his father shine:

a great mistake! for Daniel de Foe had parts, but Norton de Foe was a wretched writer, and never attempted poetry. Much more justly is Daniel himself made successor to W. Pryn, both of whom wrote verses as well as politics; as appears by the poem de Jure Divino, &c. of De Foe, and by some lines in Cowley's Miscellanies on the other. And both these authors had a reX

She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor page, And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage.

In each she marks her image full exprest, But chief in Bays's monster-breeding breast;

REMARKS.

semblance in their fates as well as their writings, having been alike sentenced to the pillory.

Ver. 104. And Eusden eke out, &c.] Laurence Eusden, poet laureate. Mr. Jacob gives a catalogue of some few only of his works, which were very numerous. Mr. Cook, in his Battle of poets, saith of him,

Eusden, a laurell'd bard, by fortune rais'd, By very few was read, by fewer prais'd. Mr. Oldmixon, in his Arts of Logic and Rhetoric, p. 413, 414. affirms, "That of all the Galimatias he ever met with, none comes up to some verses of this poet, which have as much of the ridiculum and the fustian in them as can well be jumbled together, and are of that sort of nonsense, which so perfectly confounds all ideas, that there is no distinct one left in the mind." Farther he says of him, "That he hath prophesied his own poetry shall be sweeter than Catullus, Ovid, and Tibullus; but we have little hope of the accomplishment of it, from what he hath lately published." Upon which Mr. Oldmixon has not spared a reflection, "That the putting the laurel on the head of one who writ such verses, will give futurity a very lively idea of the judgment and justice of those who bestowed it." Ibid. p. 417. But the well known learning of that noble person, who was then lord chamberlain, might have screened him from this unmannerly reflection. Nor ought Mr. Oldmixon to complain, so long after, that the laurel would have better become his own brows, or any other's: It were more decent to acquiesce in the opinion of the Duke of Buckingham upon this matter;

In rush'd Eusden, and cry'd, "Who shall have it, But I, the true laureate, to whom the King gave it?" Apollo begg'd pardon, and granted his claim, But vow'd that till then he ne'er heard of his name. Session of Poets.

The same plea might also serve for his successor, Mr. Cibber; and is further strengthened in the following epigram made on that occasion;

In merry Old England it once was a rule, The king had his poet, and also his fool; But nowwe're so frugal, I'd have you to know it, That Cibber can serve both for fool and for poet Of Blackmore, see Book ii. Of Philips, Book i. ver. 262. and Book iii. prope fin.

Nahum Tate was poet laureat, a cold writer, of no invention; but sometimes translated tolerably when befriended by Mr. Dryden. In his second part of Absalom and Achitophel are above two hundred almirable lines together of that great hand, which strongly shine through the insipidity of the rest. Something parallel may be observed of another author here mentioned.

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 108. But chief in Bays's, &c.] In the former Ed. thus,

Bays, form'd by nature stage and town to bless, And act, and be, a coxcomb with success.

VARIATIONS.

110

But chief in Tibbald's monster-breeding breast;
Sees gods with demons in strange league engage,
And Earth, and Heaven, and Hell her battles wage.
She ey'd the bard, where supperless he sate;
And pin'd, unconscious of his rising fate;
Studious he sate, with all his books around,
Sinking from thought to thought, &c.

Var. Tibbald] Author of a pamphlet entituled, Shakespeare restored. During two whole years, while Mr. Pope was preparing his edition of Shakespeare, he published advertisements, requesting assistance, and promising satisfaction to any who could contribute to its greater perfection. But this restorer, who was at that time soliciting favours of him by letters, did wholly conceal his design, till after its publication (which he was since not ashamed to own, in a Daily Journal of Nov. 26, 1728): And then an outcry was made in the prints, that our author had joined with the bookseller to raise an extravagant subscription; in which he had no share, of which he had no knowledge, and against which he had publicly advertised his own proposals for Homer. Probably that proceeding elevated Tibbald to the dignity he holds in this poem, which he seems to deserve no other way better than his brethren; unless we impute it to the share he had in the Journals, cited among the testimonies of authors prefixed to this work.

REMARKS.

Ver. 106. And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage.] Mr. Theobald, in the Censor, vol. ii. N. 33, calls Mr. Dennis by the name of Furius. "The modern Furius is to be looked upon more as an object of pity, than of that which he daily provokes, laughter and contempt. Did we really know how much this poor man" [I wish that reflection on poverty had been spared] "suffers by being contradicted, or, which is the same thing in effect, by hearing another praised; we should, in compassion, sometimes attend to him with a silent nod, and let him go away with the triumphs of his ill-nature.-Poor Furius (again) when any of his contemporaries are spoken well of, quitting the ground of the present dispute, steps back a thousand years to call in the succour of the ancients. His very panegyric is spiteful, and he uses it for the same reason as some ladies

do their commendations of a dead beauty, who would never have had their good word, but that a living one happened to be mentioned in their company. His applause is not the tribute of his heart, but the sacrifice of his revenge," &c. Indeed his pieces against our poet are somewhat of an angry character, and as they are now scarce extant, a taste of his style may be satisfactory to the curious. "A young, squab, short gentleman, whose outward form, though it should be that of downright monkey, would not differ so much from human shape as his unthinking immaterial part does from human understanding.He is as stupid and as venomous as a honch-back'd toad. A book through which Folly and Ignorance, those brethren so lame and impotent, do ridiculously look big and very dull, and strut and

Dulness with transport eyes the lively dunce,
Remembering she herself was Pertness once.

REMARKS.

hobble, cheek by jowl, with their arms on kimbo, being led and supported, and bully-back'd by that blind Hector, Impudence." Reflect. on the Essay on Criticism, p. 26, 29, 30.

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Say, what revenge on Dennis can be had? Too dull for laughter, for reply too mad; It would be unjust not to add his reasons for On one so poor you cannot take the law; this Fury, they are so strong and so coercive. On one so old your sword you scorn to draw: "I regard him (saith he) as an enemy, not so Uncag'd then let the harmless monster rage, much to me, as to my king, to my country, to Secure in dulness, madness, want, and age. my religion, and to that liberty which has been the sole felicity of my life. A vagary of fortune. For the rest; Mr. John Dennis was the son of who is sometimes pleased to be frolicksome, and a sadler, in London, born in 1657. He paid. the epidemic madness of the times, have given court to Mr. Dryden; and having obtained some Kim reputation, and reputation (as Hobbes says) correspondence with Mr. Wycherley and Mr. is power, and that has made him dangerous. Congreve, he immediately obliged the public with Therefore I look on it as my duty to king George, their letters. He made himself known to the whose faithful subject I am; to my country, of Government by many admirable schemes and prowhich I have appeared a constant lover; to thejects; which the ministry, for reasons best known laws, under whose protection I have so long lived; and to the liberty of my country, more dear to me than life, of which I have now for forty years been a constant assertor, &c. I look upon it as my duty, I say, to do-you shall see what-to pull the lion's skin from this little ass, which popular errour has thrown round him; and to shew that this author, who has been lately so much in vogue, has neither sense in his thoughts nor English in his expressions." Dennis, Rem. on Hom. Pref. p. 2, 91, &c.

46

to themselves, constantly kept private. For his character, as a writer, it is given us as follows: Mr. Dennis is excellent at pindaric writings, perfectly regular in all his performances, and person of sound learning. That he is master of a great deal of penetration and judgment, his criticisms (particularly on Prince Arthur) do sufficiently demonstrate." From the same account it also appears that he writ plays "more to get reputation than money." Dennis of himself. See Giles Jacob's Lives of Dram. Poets, p. 68, 69, compared with p. 286.

Besides these public-spirited reasons, Mr. D. had a private one; which, by his manner of ex- Ver. 109. Bays, form'd by nature, &c.] It is pressing it in p. 92, appears to have been equally hoped the poet here hath done fuil justice to his strong. He was even in bodily fear of his life hero's character, which it were a great mistake to from the machinations of the said Mr. P. "The imagine was wholly sunk in stupidity: he is story" (says he)" is too long to be told, but who allowed to have supported it with a wonderful would be acquainted with it, may hear it from mixture of vivacity. This character is heightened Mr. Curl, my bookseller. However, what my according to his own desire, in a letter he wrote reason has suggested to me, that I have with a to our author. "Pert and dull at least you just confidence said, in defiance of his two might have allowed me. What am I only to clandestine weapons, his slander and his poison." be dull, and dull still, and again, and for ever?" Which last words of his book plainly discover Mr. He then solemnly appealed to his own conscience, D.'s suspicion was that of being poisoned, in like that "he could not think himself so, nor bemanner as Mr. Curll had been before him of lieve that our poet did; but that he spake worse which fact see A full and true account of the of him than he could possibly think; and conhorrid and barbarous revenge, by poison, on the cluded it must be merely to show his wit, or for body of Edmund Curll, printed in 1716, the year some profit or lucre to himself" Life of C. C. antecedent to that wherein these remarks of Mr. chap. ii. and Letter to Mr. P. page 15, 40, 53. Dennis were published. But what puts it beyond And to show his claim to what the poet was so all question, is a passage in a very warm treatise, unwilling to allow him, of being pert as well as in which Mr. D. was also concerned, price two dull, he declares he will have the last word; which pence, called A true character of Mr. Pope and occasioned the following Epigram: his Writings, printed for S. Popping, 1716; in the tenth page whereof he is said to have insulted people on those calamities and diseases which he himself gave them, by administering poison to them:" and is called (p. 4.) a lurking waylaying coward, and a stabber in the dark." Which (with many other things most lively set forth in that piece) must have rendered him a terrour, not to Mr. Dennis only, but to all Christ- Ver. 115. supperless the hero sate,] It isamazian peole. This charitable warning only pro-ing how the sense of this hath been mistaken by voke our incorrigible poet to write the following all the former commentators, who most idly Epigram:

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Should Dennis publish you had stabb'd your

brother,

Lampoon'd your monarch, or debauch'd your

mother;

Quoth Cibber to Pope,
foreclose,

"Tho' in verse you

"I'll have the last word: for, by G-, I'll write prose."

Poor Colly, thy reasoning is none of the strongest, For know, the last word is the word that lasts longest.

suppose it to imply that the hero of the poem Not that we are ignorant that the hero of Homer's wanted a supper. In truth a great absurdity. therefore it can no way derogate from the grandeur Odyssey is frequently in that circumstance, and

Then gnaw'd his pen, then dash'd it on the ground,
Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!
Plung'd for his sense, but found no bottom there,
Yet wrote and flounder'd on, in mere despair. 120
Round him much embryo, much abortion lay,
Much future ode, and abdicated play:
Nonsense precipitate, like running lead,

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The rest on outside merit but presume,
Or serve (like other fools to fill a room;
Such with their shelves as due proportion hold,
Or their fond parents drest in red and gold;
Or where the pictures for the page atone,
And Quarles is sav'd by beauties not his own. 140
Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great;

That slipp'd through crags and zig-zags of the head; There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines com

All that on Folly Frenzy could beget,
Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit.
Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,

In pleasing memory of all he stole,

How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd

snug,

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And suck'd all o'er, like an industrious bug.
Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes, and here
The frippery of crucify'd Moliere:
There hapless Shakespeare, yet of Tibbald sore,
Wish'd he had blotted for himself before.

VARIATION.

[plete:

Here all his suffering brotherhood retire,
And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire:
A Gothic library! of Greece and Rome
Well purg'd, and worthy Settle, Banks, and
Broome.

REMARKS.

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This Tibbald, or Theobald, published an edition of Shakespeare, of which he was so proud him-self as to say, in one of Mist's Journals, June 8, "That to expose any errours in it was impracticable." And in another, April 27, "That whatever care might for the future be taken by any other editor, he would still give above five hundred

Ver. 121. Round him much embryo, &c.] In emendations, that shall escape them all." the former editions thus:

He roll'd his eyes that witness'd huge dismay,
Where yet unpawn'd much learned lumber lay;
Volumes, whose size the space exactly fill'd,
Or which fond authors were so good to gild.
Or where, by sculpture made for ever known,
The page admires new beauties not its own.
Here swells the shelf, &c.

REMARKS.

of epic poem to represent such hero under a calamity, to which the greatest not only of critics and poets, but of kings and warriors, have been subject. But much more refined, I will venture to say, is the meaning of our author: it was to give us obliquely a curious precept, or what Bossu calls a disguised sentence, that "Temperance is the life of study." The language of poesy brings all into action; and to represent a critic encompassed with books but without a supper, is a picture which lively expresseth how much the true critic prefers the diet of the mind to that of the body, one of which he always castigates, and often totally neglects, for the greater improvement of the other.-Scribl.

But since the discovery of the true hero of the poem, may we not add, that nothing was so natural, after so great a loss of money at dice, or of reputation by his play, as that the poet should have no great stomach to eat a supper? Besides, how well has the poet consulted his heroje character, in adding that he swore all the timeBentl.

Ver. 131. poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes,] A great number of them taken out to patch up his plays.

Ver. 132. The frippery] "When I fitted up an old play, it was as a good housewife will mend old linen, when she has not better employment." -Life, p. 217, octavo.

Ver. 133. hapless Shakespeare, &c.] It is not to be doubted but Bays was a subscriber to Tibbald's Shakespeare. He was frequently liberal in this way; and, as he tells us, "subscribed to Mr. Pope's Homer, out of pure generosity and civility; but when Mr. Pope did so to his Nonjuror, he concluded it could be nothing but a joke."-Letter to Mr. P. p. 24.

Ver. 134. Wish'd he had blotted] It was a ridiculous praise which the players gave to Shakespeare, "that he never blotted a line." Ben Jonson honestly wished he had blotted a thou-, sand; and Shakespeare would certainly have wished the same, if he had lived to see those alterations in his works, which, not the actors only (and especially the daring hero of this poem) have made on the stage, but the presumptuous critics of our days in their editions.

Ver. 135. The rest on outside merit, &c.] This library is divided into three parts: The first consists of those authors from whom he stole, and whose works he mangled; the second of such as fitted the shelves, or were gilded for show, or adorned with pictures: the third class our author calls solid learning, old bodies of divinity, old commentaries, old English printers, or old English translations: all very voluminous, and fit to erect altars to Dulness.

Ver. 141. Ogilby the great;] "John Ogilby was one, who from a late initiation into literature, made such a progress as might well style him the prodigy of his time! sending into the world so many large volumes! His translations of Homer and Virgil done to the life, and with such excellent sculptures: And (what added great grace to his works) he printed them all on special good paper, and in a very good letter."-Winstanly, Lives of Poets.

Ver. 142. There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle. shines complete:] "The dutchess of Newcastle was one who busied herself in the ravishing delights of poetry; leaving to posterity in print three ample volumes of her studious endeavours." Winstanly, ibid. Langbane reckons up eight folios of her grace's: which were usually adorned with gilded covers, and had her coat of arms upon them.

VARIATIONS. Ver 145. in the first edit. it was

-and

A Gothic vatican! of Greece and Rome Well purg'd, and worthy W-y, W[BI. And in the following altered to Withers, Quarles, and Blone, on which was the following note.

It was printed in the surreptitious editions, Wly, Ws, who were persons eminent

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for good life; the one writ the Life of Christ in verse, the other some valuable pieces in the lyric kind on pious subjects. The line is here restored according to its original.

"George Withers was a great pretender to poetical zeal against the vices of the times, and abused the greatest personages in power, which brought upon him frequent correction. The Marshalsea and Newgate were no strangers to him.”Winstanly. Quarles was as dull a writer, but an honest dull man. Blome's books are remarkable for their cuts.

REMARKS.

Ver. 146, worthy Settle, Banks and Broome.] The poet has mentioned these three authors in particular, as they are parallel to our hero in his three capacities; 1. Settle was his brother laureate; only indeed upon half-pay, for the city instead of the court; but equally famous for unintelligible flights in his poems on public occasions, such as shows, birth-days, &c. 2. Banks was his rival in tragedy (though more successful) in one of his tragedies, the Earl of Essex, which is yet alive: Anna Boleyn, the Queen of Scots, and Cyrus the Great, are dead and gone. These he drest in a sort of beggar's velvet, or a happy mixture of the thick fustian and thin prosaic; exactly imitated in Perolla and Isidora, Cæsar in Egypt, and the Heroic Daughter. 3. Broome was a serving-man of Ben Jonson, who once picked up a comedy from his betters, or from some cast scenes of his master, not entirely contemptible.

Ver. 147. more solid learning] Some have objected, that books of this sort suit not so well the library of our Bays, which they imagined consisted of novels, plays, and obscene books; but they are to consider, that he furnished his shelves only for ornament, and read these books no more than the dry bodies of divinity, which, no doubt, were purchased by his father when he designed him for the gown. See the note on

ver. 200.

Ver. 149. Caxton] A printer in the time of Edw. IV. Rich. III. and Hen, VII.; Wyukyn de Word, his successor, in that of Hen. VII. and VIII. The former translated into prose Virgil's Æneis, as a history; of which he speaks, in his proeme, in a very singular manner, as of a book hardly known. Tibbald quotes a rare passage from him in Mist's Journal of March 16, 1728,

concerning a straunge and marvayllouse beaste called Sagittarye, which he would have Shakespeare to mean rather than Teucer, the archer celebrated by Homer.

VARIATION.

Ver. 152. Old bodies of philosophy appear.

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[160

De Lyra there a dreadful front extends,
And here the groaning shelves Philemon bends.
Of these twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size,
Redeem'd from tapers and defrauded pies,
Inspir'd he seizes: These an altar raise :
An hecatomb of pure unsully'd lays
That altar crowns: A folio cominon-place
Founds the whole pile, of all his works the base :
Quartos, octavos, shape the lessening pyre;
A twisted birth-day ode completes the spire.
Then he great tamer of all human art!
First in my care, and ever at my heart;
Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend,
With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end,
Eer since sir Fopling's periwig was praise,
To the last honours of the butt and bays:
O thqu! of business the directing soul !
To this our head like biass to the bowl,
Which, as more ponderous, made its aim more true,
Obliquely waddling to the mark in view:
O! ever gracious to perplex'd mankind,
Still spread a healing mist before the mind;

VARIATIONS,

170

Ver. 162. A twisted, &c.] In the former edit.
And last, a little Ajax tips the spire.
Var. a little Ajax] in duodecimo, translated
from Sophocles by Tibbald.

Ver, 167, 168. Not in the first editions.
Ver. 170. To human heads, &c.
Ver. 171. Makes their aim,

REMARKS.

Ver. 153. Nich. de Lyra, or Harpsfield, a very voluminous commentator, whose works in five vast folios, were printed in 1472.

Ver. 154, Philemon Holland, doctor in physic. "He translated so many books, that a man would think he had done nothing else; insomuch that he might be called translator general of his age. The books alone of his turning into English are sufficient to make a country gentleman a compleat library."--Winstanly.

Ver. 167. E'er since sir Fopling's periwig] The first visible cause of the passion of the town for our hero, was a fair flaxen full-bottom'd periwig, which, he tells us, he wore in his first play of the Fool in Fashion. It attracted, in a particnlar manner, the friendship of Col. Brett, who wanted to purchase it. "Whatever contempt" (says he)

66

friend, who was not to despise the world but live philosophers may have for a fine periwig, my in it, knew very well that so material an article of dress upon the head of a man of sense, if it became him, could never fail of drawing to him a more partial regard and benevolence, than could

possibly be hoped for in an ill-made one. This, perhaps, may soften the grave censure, which so youthful a purchase might otherwise have laid upon him. In a word, he made his attack upon this periwig, as your young fellows generally do upon a lady of pleasure, first by a few familiar praises of her person, and then a civil inquiry into the price of it; and we finished our bargain that night over a bottle." See Life, octavo, p. 303. This remarkable periwig usually made its entrance upon the stage in a sedan, brought in by two chairmen, with infinite approbation of the audience.

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