Though plays for honor in old time he made; song: He says, poor poets lost while players won, 20 And pimps grow rich while gallants are undone. Let ease, his last request, be of your giving; 25 PROLOGUE TO THE THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE.'* AUTHORS are judged by strange capricious rules; The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: 5 Yet sure the best are most severely fated; 10. By running goods these graceless owlers gain; Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of Spain: But wit, like wine, from happier climates brought, Dash'd by these rogues, turns English common draught: They pall Molière's and Lopez' sprightly strain, 15 And teach dull harlequins to grin in vain. * This was the celebrated farce tripartite, in which Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot engaged, in order to ridicule Dr. Woodward, and which was most meritoriously damned at the first representation. See Cibber's Letter to Pope.-Sir Walter Scott. How shall our author hope a gentler fate, To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign climes: 25 Let him hiss loud, to show you all he 's hit. A common blessing: now 'tis yours, now mine: To keep this cap, for such as will, to wear. Of course resign'd it to the next that writ; 29 Shows a cap with ears. 38 Flings down the cap, and exit. 30 35 OR, A SANDYS'S GHOST; PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE NEW OVID'S METAMORPHOSES; AS IT WAS INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY PERSONS OF QUALITY.* YE lords and commons, men of wit Read this, ere you translate one bit Beware of Latin authors all, Nor think your verses sterling; And scribble in a berlin: 5 Sir Samuel Garth, who published the Metamorphoses of Ovid, translated by Dryden, Addison, Garth, Mainwaring, Congreve, Rowe, Pope, Gay, Eusden, Croxal, and other eminent hands,' had himself no other share in the undertaking, than engaging the various translators in their task, and putting their labors into some order. The work was intended to supersede the ancient translation. George Sandys, the old translator, whose ghost is introduced in the verses, was a man of great accomplishment, and pronounced by Dryden to be the best versifier of his age. The curious reader will find many particulars respecting him, and his translation of Ovid, in the 'Censura Literaria,' volumes 4th, 5th, and 6th. He died in 1643.-Sir Walter Scott. For not the desk with silver nails, Nor bureau of expense, Nor standish well japan'd, avails Hear how a ghost in dead of night, In woful wise did sore affright A wit and courtly squire. Rare imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth! Like puppy tame, that uses To fetch and carry in his mouth Ah! why did he write poetry, A desk he had of curious work, With glittering studs about: Within the same did Sandys lurk, Though Ovid lay without. Now, as he scratch'd to fetch up thought, And from the keyhole bolted out, All upright as a pin. With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, And ruff composed most duly, 10 15 20 25 30 This squire, he dropp'd his pen full soon, 35 While as the light burnt bluely. |