Ev'n that vile Wretch, who in lewd Verfe each year
Defcribes the Pageants, and my good Lord May'r
Whofe Works must ferve the next 'Election-day
For making Squibs, and under Pies to lay;
Yet counts himself of the infpired Train,
And dares in Thought the facred Name profane.

But is it nought (thou'lt fay) in Front tó ftand, "With Lawrel crown'd by White, or Loggan's hand? Is it not great, and glorious to be known,

Mark'd out, and gaz'd at thro' the wond'ring Town,
By all the Rabble paffing up and down?
So Oats and Bedloe have been pointed at,
And every bufie Coxcomb of the State:
The meaneft Felons who thro' Holborn
go,
More Eyes and Looks than twenty Poets draw:
If this be all, go have thy pofted Name
Fix'd up with Bills of Quack, and publick Sham;
To be the ftop of gaping Prentices,

And read by reeling Drunkards, when they pifs;
Or elfe to be expos'd on trading Stall,
While the bilk'd Owner hires Gazetts to tell,
'Mongst Spaniels loft, that Author does not fell.

Perhaps, fond Fool, thou footh'ft thy felf in dream,

With hopes of purchasing a lasting Name:
Thou think'st perhaps thy Trifles shall remain,
Like facred Cowley, and immortal Ben.
But who of all the bold Adventurers,

Who now drive on the trade of Fame in Verse
Can be enfur'd in this unfaithful Sea,
Where there fo many loft and fhipwrack'd be?
How many Poems writ in ancient time,
Which thy Fore-fathers had in great cfteem,
Which in the crowded Shops bore any rate,
And fold like News-Books, and Affairs of State.
Have grown contemptible, and flighted fince,
As Pordage, Fleckno, or the British Prince?
Quarles, Chapman, Haywood, Withers had Applaufe,
And Wild and Ogilby in former days;

}

But

But now are damn'd to wrapping Drugs and Wares,
And curs'd by all their broken Stationers:
And fo may'ft thou perchance pafs up and down,
'And please a while th' admiring Court and Town,
Who after fhalt in Duck-lane Shops be thrown,
To mould with Silvester and Shirley there,
'And truck for Pots of Ale next Stourbridge-Fair.
Then who'll not laugh to fee th' immortal Name
To vile Mandungus made a Martyr flame?
'And all thy deathlefs Monuments of Wit,
Wipe Porters Tails, or mount in Paper-Kite?
But, grant thy Poetry fhould find fuccefs,
'And (which is rare) the fqueamish Criticks please ;
Admit, it read, and prais'd, and courted be
By this nice Age, and all Pofterity;

If thou expecteft ought but empty Fame;
Condemn thy Hopes, and Labours to the Flame:
The Rich have now learn'd only to admire,
He, who to greater Favours does afpire,
Is mercenary thought, and writes to hire:
Would'ft thou to raife thine, and thy Countries Fame,
Chufe fome old English Hero for thy Theme,
Bold Arthur, or great Edward's greater Son,
Or our fifth Harry, matchlefs in Renown;
Make Agincourt, and Creffy Fields outvie
The fam'd Lavinian Shores, and Walls of Troy
What Scipio, what Macenas would'ft thou find,
What Sidney now to thy great Project kind?
Blefs me! how great his Genius! how each Line
Is big with Senfe! how glorious a Design
Does thro' the whole, and each proportion fhine!
How lofty all his Thoughts, and how infpir'd!
Pity, fuch wond'rous Thoughts are not preferr'd:
Cries a gay wealthy Sot, who would not bail
For bare five Pounds the Author out of Jail,
Should he ftarve there, and rot; who if a Brief
Came out the needy Poets to relieve,

To the whole Tribe would fcarce a Tefter give.

}

}

But

(I3) But fifty Guineas for a Whore and Clap! The Peer's well usd, and comes off wond'rous cheap: A Poet wou'd be dear, and out o' th' way, Should he expect above a Coachman's pay: For this will any dedicate, and lye, And dawb the gawdy Afs with Flattery? For this will any prostitute his Sence To Coxcombs void of Bounty, as of Brains? Yet fuch is the hard Fate of Writers now, They're forc'd for Alms to each great Name to bow: Fawn like her Lap-dog, on her tawdry Grace, Commend her Beauty, and bely her Glafs, By which the every morning primes her Face: Sneak to his Honor, call him Witty, Brave, And Juft, tho' a known Coward, Fool, or Knave, And praife his Lineage, and Nobility, Whofe Arms at firft came from the Company. 'Tis fo, 'twas ever fo, fince heretofore The blind old Bard, with Dog and Bell before, Was fain to fing for Bread from door to door. The needy Mufes all turn'd Gipfies then, And of the begging Trade e'er fince have been: Should mighty Sappho in thefe days revive, And hope upon her ftock of Wit to live She mult to Crefwel's trudg to mend her Gains, And let her Tail to hire, as well as Brains. What Poet ever Fin'd for Sheriff? or who By Wit and Senfe did ever Lord Mayors grow? My own hard Ufage here I need not prefs, Where you have every day before your face Plenty of fresh refembling Inftances:

;

Great Cowley's Mufe the fame ill Treatment had,
Whofe Verfe thall live for ever to upbraid
Th' ungrateful World, that left fuch Worth unpaid.
VValler himfelf may thank Inheritance

For what he elfe had never got by Senfe.
On Butler who can think without juft Rage,
The Glory and the Scandal of the Age

}

}

Fair

Fair stood his hopes when first he came to Town,
Met every-where with welcome of Renown,
Courted, and lov'd by all, with wonder read,
And promises of Princely Favour fed:
But what Reward for all had he at last,
After a Life in dull expectance pafs'd?:
The Wretch at fumming up his mif-fpent days
Found nothing left, but Poverty and Praise:
Of all his Gains by Verfe he could not fave
Enough to purchafe Flannel, and a Grave:
Reduc'd to want, he in due time fell fick,
Was fain to die, and be interr'd on tick:
And well might blefs the Fever that was fent,
To rid him hence, and his worse Fate prevent.

You've feen what Fortune other Poets fhare
View next the Factors of the Theatre:

That conftant Mart, which all the year does hold,
Where Staple Wit is barter'd, bought, and fold;
Here trading Scriblers for their Maintenance,
And Livelihood truft to a Lott'ry chance:
But who his Parts would in the Service spend,
Where all his hopes on vulgar Breath depend?
Where every Sot, for paying half a Crown,
Has the Prerogative to cry him down?
Sidley indeed may be content with Fame,
Nor care fhould an ill judging Audience damn:
But Settle, and the reft, that write for Pence,
Whose whole Eftate's an ounce, or two of Brains,
Should a thin Houfe on the third day appear,
Muft ftarve, or live in Tatters all the year.
And what can we expect that's brave and great,
From a poor needy Wretch, that writes to eat?
Who the fuccefs of the next Play must wait
For Lodging, Food, and Cloaths: and whofe chief care
Is how to fpunge for the next Meal, and where

Hadft thou of old in flourishing Athens liv'd,
When all the learned Arts in Glory thriv'd;

When

( 15 )

When mighty Sophocles the Stage did fway,
And Poets by the State were held in pay;
Twere worth thy pains to cultivate thy Mufe,
And daily wonders then it might produce:
But who would now write Hackney to a Stage,
That's only thought the Nuifance of the Age
Go after this, and beat thy wretched Brains,
And toil to bring in thanklefs Ideots means:
Turn o'er dull Horace, and the Claffick Fools,
To poach for Senfe, and hunt for idle Rules:
Be free of Tickets, and the Play-Houfes,
To make fome tawdry Act'refs there thy Prize,
And fpend thy third Days gains 'twixt her clap'd
Thighs.

T

All Trades, and all Profeffions here abound,
And yet Encouragement for all is found:
Here a vile Emp'rick, who by Licence kills,
Who every-where helps to increafe the Bills,
Wears Velver, keeps his Coach, and Whore befide,
For what lefs Villains muft to Tyburn ride.
There a dull trading Sot, in Wealth o'ergrown
By thriving Knavery, can call his own

A dozen Mannors; and if Fate ftill blefs,
Expects as many Counties to poffefs.

Punks, Panders, Bawds, all their due Penfions gain,
And every day the Great Mens Bounty drain:

Lavith expence on Wit, has never yet

Been tax'd amongst the Grievances of State.
The Turky, Guinny, Indian Gainers be,
And all but the Poetick Company:

Each place of Traffick, Bantam, Smyrna, Zant,
Greenland, Virginia, Sevil, Alicant,

And France, that fends us Dildoes, Lace, and Wine,
Vaft profit all, and large Returns bring in
Parnaffus only is that barren Coast,

:

Where the whole Voyage, and Adventure's loft.
Then be advis'd, the flighted Mufe forfake,

And Cook and Dalton for thy ftudy take:

For