There, sav'd by spice, like mummies, many a year, Dry bodies of divinity appear :

De Lyra there a dreadful front extends,

And here the groaning shelves Philemon bends.

152

Of these twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size, Redeem'd from tapers and defrauded pies,

156

Inspir'd he seizes: These an altar raise :

An hecatomb of pure, unsully'd lays

That altar crowns: A folio common-place
Founds the whole pile, of all his works the base :
Quartos, octavos, shape the less'ning pyre;
A twisted birth-day ode completes the spire.

161

Then

latyne by that noble poete & grete clerk Vyrgyle); whiche booke I sawe over and redde therein, How after the generall destruccyon of the grete Troy, Eneas departed berynge his old fader anchises upon his sholdres, his lytyl son yolas on his hande, his wyfe with moche other people followynge, and how he shipped and departed; wythe all thystorye of his adventures that he had er he came to the atchievement of his conquest of ytalye, as all alonge shall be shewed in this present booke. In which booke I had grete playsyr, by cause of the fayr and honest termes & wordes in frenche, whiche I never sawe to fore lyke, ne none so playsaunt ne so well ordred; whiche booke as me semed sholde be moch requysite to noble men to see, as wel for the eloquence as the hystoryes. How wel that many hondred yerys passed was the sayd booke of Eneydos wyth other workes made and lerned dayly in scolis, especyally in ytalye and other places, whiche hystorye the sayd Vyrgyle made in metre." Tibbald quotes a rare passage from him in Mist's Journal of March 16, 1728, concerning a straunge and mervyllouse beaste called Sagittarye, which he would have Shakespear to mean rather than Teucer, the archer celebrated by Homer. WARBURTON.

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 complete library." WINSTANLY.

WARBURTON.

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,

165

With whom my muse began, with whom shall end,
E'er since Sir Fopling's periwig was praise,

To the last honours of the butt and bays:

O thou! of bus'ness the directing soul!

To this our head like byass to the bowl,

170

Which, as more pond'rous, made its aim more true,
Obliquely wadling to the mark in view:
O! ever gracious to perplex'd mankind,
Still spread a healing mist before the mind;

VER. 162. A twisted, &c.] In the former edit.
And last, a little Ajax tips the spire.

And,

WARBURTON.

Var. a little Ajax] In duodecimo, translated from Sophocles by WARBURTON.

Tibbald.

VER. 167. E'er since Sir Fopling's perizig] The first visible cause of the passion of the town for our hero, was a fair flaxen fullbottom'd periwig, which, he tells us, he wore in his first play of the Fool in Fashion. It attracted, in a particular manner, the friendship of Col. Brett, who wanted to purchase it. "Whatever con tempt (says he) philosophers may have for a fine periwig, my friend, who was not to despise the world, but to live 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. WARBURTON.

12

And, lest we err by wit's wild dancing light,
Secure us kindly in our native night.

Or, if to wit a coxcomb make pretence,
Guard the sure barrier between that and sense;
Or quite unravel all the reas'ning thread,
And hang some curious cobweb in its stead!

VER. 177. Or, if to wit, &c.] In the former edit.
Ah! still o'er Britain stretch that peaceful wand,
Which lulls th' Helvetian and Batavian land;
Where rebel to thy throne if science rise,
She does but shew her coward face and dies:
There thy good scholiasts with unweary'd pains,
Make Horace flat, and humble Maro's strains:
Here studious I unlucky modern save,
Nor sleeps one error in its father's grave,
Old puns restore, lost blunders nicely seek,
And crucify poor Shakespear once a week.
For thee supplying, in the worst of days,
Notes to dull books, and prologues to dull plays;
Not that my quill to critics was confin'd,
My verse gave ampler lessons to mankind:
So gravest precepts may successful prove,
But sad examples never fail to move.
As, forc'd from wind-guns, &c.

175

180

As,

WARBURTON.

Var. And crucify poor Shakespear once a week.] For some time, once a week or fortnight, he printed in Mist's Journal a single remark or poor conjecture on some word or pointing of Shakespear, either in his own name, or in letters to himself as from others without name. Upon these somebody made this epigram :

" "Tis gen'rous, Tibbald! in thee and thy brothers, To help us thus to read the works of others:

Never for this can just returns be shown;

For who will help us e'er to read thy own?" WARBURTON. Var. Notes to dull books, and prologues to dull plays;] As to Cook's Hesiod, where sometimes a note, and sometimes even half a note, are carefuly owned by him: and to Moore's comedy of the Rival Modes, and other authors of the same rank: These were people who writ about the year 1726. WARBURTON

As, forc'd from wind-guns, lead itself can fly,
And pond'rous slugs cut swiftly thro' the sky;
As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe,
The wheels above urg'd by the load below :
Me emptiness, and dullness could inspire,
And were my elasticity, and fire.

Some demon stole my pen (forgive th' offence)
And once betray'd me into common sense :
Else all my prose and verse were much the same;
This, prose on stilts; that, poetry fall'n lame.
Did on the stage my fops appear confin'd?
My life gave ampler lessons to mankind.
Did the dead letter unsuccessful prove?
The brisk example never fail'd to move.

185

190

Yet sure, had Heav'n decreed to save the state, 195
Heav'n had decreed these works a longer date.
Could Troy be sav'd by any single hand,
This grey-goose weapon must have made her stand.
What can I now ? my Fletcher cast aside,
Take up the bible, once my better guide?

200

Or

VER. 181. As, forc'd from wind-guns, &c.] The thought of these four verses is found in a poem of our author's of a very early date (namely written at fourteen years old, and soon after printed) to the author of a poem called Successio. WARBURTON.

VER. 195. Yet sure, had Heav'n, &c.] In the former edit.
Had Heav'n decreed such works a longer date,

Heav'n had decreed to spare the Grubstreet-state.
But see great Settle to the dust descend,

And all thy cause and empire at an end!
Could Troy be sav'd, &c.

WARBURTON.

Or tread the path by vent'rous heroes trod,
This box my thunder, this right-hand my God?
Or chair'd at White's amidst the doctors sit,
Teach oaths to gamesters, and to nobles wit?
Or bidst thou rather party to embrace?
(A friend to party thou, and all her race;
'Tis the same rope at diff'rent ends they twist;
To Dulness Ridpath is as dear as Mist.)

205

Shall

VER. 199. my Fletcher] A familiar manner of speaking, used by modern critics, of a favourite author. Bays might as justly speak thus of Fletcher, as a French wit did of Tully, seeing his works in a library, "Ah! mon cher Ciceron! je le connois bien; c'est le même que Marc Tulle." But he had a better title to call Fletcher his own, having made so free with him. WARBURTON.

VER. 200. Take up the bible, once my better guide?] When, according to his father's intention, he had been a clergyman, or (as he thinks himself) a bishop of the Church of England. Hear his own words: "At the time that the fate of K. James, the Prince of Orange, and myself, were on the anvil, Providence thought fit to postpone mine, 'till theirs were determined: but had my father carried me a month sooner to the university, who knows but that purer fountain might have washed my imperfections into a capacity of writing, instead of plays and annual odes, sermons and pastoral letters?" Apology for his life, chap. iii. WARBURTON.

VER. 203. at White's amidst the doctors] These doctors had a modest and upright appearance, no air of overbearing; but, like true masters of arts, were only habited in black and white: they were justly styled subtiles and graves, but not always irrefragabiles, being sometimes examined, and, by a nice distinction, divided and laid open. SCRIBLERUS.

This learned critic is to be understood allegorically: the DocTORS in this place mean no more than false dice, a cant phrase used amongst gamesters. So the meaning of these four sonorous lines is only this," Shall I play fair, or foul?” POPE.

VER. 208. Ridpath-Mist.] George Ridpath, author of a Whig paper, called the Flying Post; Nathaniel Mist, of a famous Tory journal.

WARBURTON.