priety; but they are no more mine when I receive them, than the light of the moon can be allowed to be her own, who shines but by the reflexion of her brother. Your own poetry is a more powerful example, to prove that the modern writers may enter into comparison with the ancients, than any which Perrault could produce in France; yet heither he, nor you, who are a better critick, can persuade me, that there is any room left for a solid commendation at this time of day, at least for me.

If I undertake the translation of Virgil, the little which I can perform will shew at least, that no man is fit to write after him, in a barbarous modern tongue. Neither will his machines be of any service to a christian poet. We see how ineffectually they have been try'd by Tasso, and by Ariosto. "Tis using them too dully, if we only make devils of his gods: as if, for example, I I would raise a storm, and make use of Æolus, with only difference of calling him Prince of the what invention of mine would there be in

this

air

declare their want of them. Thus, Sir, let me assure you that though you are acquainted with several gentlemen, whose eloquence and wit may capacitate them to offer their service with more address to you, yet no one can declare himself, with greater chearfulness, or with greater fidelity, or with more profound respect than

my self.

this? or who would not see Virgil thorough me; only the same trick play'd over again by a bungling juggler? Boileau has well observed, that it is an easie matter in a christian poem, for God to bring the Devil to reason. I think I have given a better hint for new machines in my preface to Juvenal; where I have particularly recommended two subjects, one of King Arthur's conquest of the Saxons, and the other of the Black Prince in his conquest of Spain. But the Guardian Angels of monarchys and kingdoms are not to be touch'd by every hand: a man must be deeply conversant in the Platonick philosophy, to deal with them; and therefore I may reasonably expect that no poet of our age will presume to handle those machines, for fear of discovering his own ignorance; or if he should, he might perhaps be ingrateful enough not to own me for his benefactour.'

After I have confess'd thus much of our modern heroick poetry, I cannot but conclude with Mr. Rymer, that our English comedy is far beyond any thing of the Ancients: and notwithstanding our irregularities, so is our tragedy. Shakspeare had a genius for it; and we know, in spite of Mr. Rymer, that genius alone is a greater virtue (if I may

Dryden here scems to have had a presentiment of what afterwards happened. See vol. iii. p. 647.

• Our author has maintained the same opinion in the Dedication of the THIRD MISCELLANY; and so, I have no doubt, Aristotle would have decided, had he lived in our time.

so call it) than all other qualifications put together. You see what success this learned critick has found in the world, after his blaspheming Shakspeare.' Almost all the faults which he has discover'd are: truly there; yet who will read Mr. Rymer, or not read Shakspeare? For my own part I reverence, Mr. Rymer's learning, but I detest his ill-nature and his arrogance. I indeed, and such as I, have reason to be afraid of him, but Shakspeare, has

not.

There is another part of poetry, in which, the English stand almost upon an equal foot with the Ancients; and it is that which we call Pindarique; introduced, but not perfected, by our famous Mr. Cowley: and of this, Sir, you are certainly one of the greatest masters. You have the sublimity of sense as well as sound, and know how far the bold-. ness of a poet may lawfully extend. I could wish you would cultivate this kind of'Ode; and reduce it either to the same measures which Pindar used, or give new measures of your own. For, as it is, it looks like a vast tract of land newly discover'd: the soil is wonderfully fruitful, but unmanur'd; overstock'd with inhabitants, but almost all savages, without laws, arts, arms, or policy.

I remember, poor Nat. Lee, who was then upon the verge of madness, yet made a sober and a witty answer to a bad poet, who told him, It was an easie thing to write like a madman: No, said he, it is

In his Short View of Tragedy, 8vo. 1693.

very difficult to write like a madman, but it is a very easie matter to write like a fool. Otway and he are safe by death from all attacks, but we poor poets militant (to use Mr. Cowley's expression) are at the mercy of wretched scribblers: and when they cannot fasten upon our verses, they fall upon our morals, our principles of state and religion. For my principles of religion, I will not justifie them to you: I know yours are far different. For the same reason I shall say nothing of my principles of state. I believe you in yours follow the dictates

of

your reason, as I in mine do those of my conscience. If I thought my self in an errour, I would retract it. I am sure that I suffer for them; and Milton makes even the Devil say, that no creature is in love with pain. For my morals betwixt man and man, I am not to be my own judge. I appeal to the world, if I have deceiv'd or defrauded any man: and for my private conversation, they who see me every day can be the best witnesses, whether or no it be blameless and inoffensive. Hitherto I have no reason to complain that men of either party shun my company. I have never been an impudent beggar at the doors of noblemen: my visits have indeed been too rare to be unacceptable; and but just enough to testifie my grati tude for their bounty, which I have frequently received, but always unasked, as themselves will witness.

I have written more than I needed to you on this subject; for I dare say you justifie me to your

self. As for that which I first intended for the principal subject of this letter, which is my friend's passion and his design of marriage, on better consideration I have chang'd my mind: for having had the honour to see my dear friend Wycherly's letter to him on that occasion, I find nothing to be added or amended. But as well as I love Mr. Wycherly, I confess I love my self so well, that I will not shew how much I am inferiour to him in wit and judgment, by undertaking any thing after him. There is Moses and the Prophets in his council. Jupiter and Juno, as the poets tell us, made Tiresias their umpire in a certain merry dispute, which fell out in heaven betwixt them. Tiresias, you know, had been of both sexes, and therefore was a proper judge; our friend Mr. Wycherly is full as competent an arbitrator: he has been a bachelor, and marry'd man, and is now a widower. Virgil says of Ceneus,

Nunc vir, nunc fæmina, Ceneus,

Rursus et in veterem fato revoluta figuram.

Yet I suppose he will not give any large commendations to his middle state: nor as the sailer said, will be fond after a shipwrack to put to sea again. If my friend will adventure after this, I can but wish him a good wind, as being his, and,

*

My dear Mr. Dennis,

Your most affectionate

and most faithful Servant, JOHN DRYDEN.