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Which of the two fhou'd be above,

And Laws unto the other give,

So we falfe Fire with Art fometimes difcover,
And the true Fire with the fame Art do cover.

III.

What Rack can Fancy find fo high?
Here we must court, and here ingage;
Tho' in the other Place we die.

'Tis Torture all, and Cozenage; And which the harder is I cannot tell,

To hide true Love, or make falfe Love look well.

IV.

Since it is thus, God of Defire,

Give me my Honefty again,

And take thy Brands back, and thy Fire;
I'm weary of the State I'm in:

Since, if the very best should now befal,
Love's Triumph, must be Honour's Funeral.

I.

F, when Don Cupid's Dart

Doth wound a Heart,

We hide our Grief

And thun Relief;

The Smart increaseth on that Score;
For Wounds unfearcht but rankle more.

II.

Then if we whine, look pale,

And tell our Tale,

Men are in Pain

For us again;

So neither speaking doth become
The Lovers State, nor being dumb.
B 2

III. When

When this I do descry,

Then thus think I,

III.

Love is the Fart

Of every Heart:

It pains a Man when 'tis kept close,
And others does offend, when 'tis let loose.

A

A Seffion of the POETS

Seffion was held the other Day,

And Apollo himself was at it, they fay,

The Laurel that had been fo long referv'd,
Was now to be given to him beft deferv'd.

And therefore the Wits of the Town came thither,
'Twas ftrange to fee how they flocked together,
Each ftrongly confident of his own Way,
Thought to gain the Laurel away that Day.

There was Selden, and he fate close by the Chair;
Wainman not far off, which was very fair;
Sands with Townsend, for they kept no Order;
Digby and Shillingfworth a little further:

There was Lucan's Tranflator too, and he
That makes God fpeak fo big in's Poetry:
Selwin and Waller, and Bartlets both the Brothers;
Jack Vaughan and Porter, and divers others.
The first that broke Silence was good old Ben,
Prepar'd before with Canary Wine,

And he told them plainly he deferv'd the Bays,
For his were call'd Works, where others were but Plays.
And bid them remember how he had purg'd the Stage
Of Errors that had lafted many an Age,

And he hop'd they did not think the filent Woman,
The Fox, and the Alchymift out done, by no Man.

Apollo

Apollo ftopt him there, and bid him not go on,
'Twas Merit, he faid, and not Prefumption
Muft carry't; at which Ben turned about
And in great Choler offer'd to go out:

But those that were there thought it not fit
To discontent fo ancient a Wit;

And therefore Apollo call'd him back again,
And made him mine Hoft of his own New Inn.

Tom Carew was next, but he had a Fault

That wou'd not well ftand with a Laureat;

His Muse was hard bound, and th' Iflue of's Brain Was feldom brought forth but with Trouble and Pa'n. And all that were prefent there did agree,

A Laureat Mufe fhou'd be eafie and free,

Yet fure 'twas not that, but 'twas thought that his Grace
Confider'd he was well he had a Cup-Bearer's Place.

Will Davenant, afham'd of a foolish Mifchance
That he had got lately travelling in France,
Modeftly hop'd the Handsomeness of's Mufe
Might any Deformity about him excuse.

And furely the Company wou'd have been content,
If they cou'd have found any Prefident;

But in all their Records, either in Verse or Profe,
There was not one Laureat without a Nose.

To Will Bartlet fure all the Wits meant well,
But first they wou'd fee how his Snow wou'd fell:
Will fmil'd, and fwore in their Judgmen's they went less,
That concluded of Mer.t upon Success.

Suddenly taking his Place again,

He gave way to Selwin, who ftreight stept in;
But alas! he had been fo lately a Wit,
That Apollo himself scarce knew him yet.

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Toby Matthews (Pox on him) how came he there?
Was whispering Nothing in Somebody's Ear,
When he had the Honour to be nam'd in Court,

But Sir, you may thank my Lady Carleil for't:

For had not her Character furnifht you out
With fomething of handfome, without all doubt
You and your forry Lady-Mufe had been
In the Number of those that were not let in.

In haft from the Court two or three came in,
And they brought Letters, forfooth, from the Queen,
'Twas difcreetly done too, for if th' had come
Without them, th' had searce been let into the Room.

This made a Difpute; for 'twas plain to be seen
Each Man had a Mind to gratifie the Queen:
But Apollo himself could not think it fit;

There was Difference, he said, betwixt Fooling and Wit.
SUCKLING next was call'd, but did not appear,
But freight one whisper'd Apollo i' th' Ear,
That of all Men living he cared not for't,
He lov'd not the Mufes fo well as his Sport;

And priz'd black Eyes, or a lucky Hit
At Bowls, above all the Trophies of Wit;
But Apollo was angry, and publickly faid
Twere fit that a Fine were fet upon's Head.
Wat Montague now ftood forth to his Trial,
And did not fo much as fufpect a Denial;
But witty Apollo as'd him first of all
If he understood his own Paftoral.

For if he cou'd do it, 'twou'd plainly appear
He understood more than any Man there,
And did merit the Bays above all the reft,
But the Monfieur was modeft; and Silence confeft.

During these Troubles in the Court was hid
One that Apollo foon mifs'd, little Gid;

And having spy'd him, call'd him out of the Throng,
And advis'd him in his Ear not to write fo ftrong.

Murrey was fummon'd, but 'twas urg'd, that he
Was chief already of another Company,

Hales fet by himself moft gravely did fmile
To fee them about nothing keep fuch a Coil;
Apollo had fpy'd him, but knowing his Mind
Paft by, and call'd Falkland, that fate just behind;
But he was of late fo gone with Divinity,
That he had almost forgot his Poetry,

Though to fay the Truth, and Apollo did know it,
He might have been both his Priest and his Poet.
At length who but an Alderman did appear,
At which Will Davenant began to fwear;
But wifer Apollo bade him draw nigher,
And, when he was mounted a little higher,

He openly declar'd, that the best Sign

Of good Store of Wit's to have good Store of Coyn,
And without a Syllable more or less said,
He put the Laurel on the Alderman's Head.

At this all the Wits were in such a maze
That, for a good while, they did nothing but gaze
One upon another; not a Man in the Place
But had Discontent writ at large in his Face.

Only the small Poets chear'd up again,

Out of Hope, as 'twas thought, of borrowing;
But fure they were out, for he forfeits his Crown
When he lends to any Poet about the Town.

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