10 London, a fruitful soil, yet never bore Were proud so good a government to serve; And, mixing with buffoons and pimps profane, Tainted the stage, for some small snip of gain. For they, like harlots, under bawds profess'd, Took all th' ungodly pains, and got the least. Thus did the thriving malady prevail, 20 The scandal of the sin was wholly new. Misses there were, but modestly conceal'd; Whitehall the naked Venus first reveal'd, Who standing, as at Cyprus, in her shrine, The strumpet was ador'd with rites di Save here and there a woman or a man; But neither you, nor we, with all our pains, Can make clean work; there will be some remains, While you have still your Oates, and we our Haynes. SONG OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS, WHO, BEING CROSS'D BY THEIR FRIENDS, FELL MAD FOR ONE ANOTHER, AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM Music within. The lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a keeper. Phyllis. Look, look, I see - I see my love appear r! 'Tis he 't is he alone; 'Tis the dear, dear man; 't is thee, Amyntas. Hark! the winds war; The foamy waves roar; ship afar, Phyllis. I see St. Hermo, St. Hermo, that sits St. Hermo never, never shone so 'Tis Phyllis, only Phyllis, can Amyntas. If all the Fates combine, Here they break from their keepers, run to each other, and embrace. APPENDIX I POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO DRYDEN OR ONLY IN PART WRITTEN BY HIM [The canon of Dryden's writings is not easy to determine. Dryden seems to have had no trace of petty vanity in regard to his own minor works. For one of Tonson's miscellany volumes he might gather together a dozen old prologues and songs that he had lying by him, but further than this he made no attempt to collect his occasional poems. Hence it is likely that among the anonymous pieces printed in miscellanies, between 1660 and 1700, by busy and conscienceless editors, there may be found some written by him. After his death many pieces, some certainly genuine, others as certainly spurious, were published under his name. In the text of the present volume there are included several poems that are only in part by Dryden, or that may not be his work at all: see, for example, the headuotes on pages 76, 137. In the present Appendir there are included: (1) some pieces ascribed to Dryden in his own time, or shortly after it, but of doubtful authenticity; (2) some poems assigned to Dryden on internal evidence, in modern times; (3) a translation of Boileau's Art of Poetry, in which Dryden had some small share. Finally, there follows a series of titles of poems that have been printed in editions of Dryden's works, or have been otherwise attributed to him, but that are in all probability spurious. An explanatory note accompanies each title.] PROLOGUE, EPILOGUE, AND SONG FROM THE INDIAN QUEEN [This heroic play was first printed in Four New Plays. written by. ... Sir Robert Howard, 1665. It was first acted in January, 1664 (Pepys' Diary, January 27). Dryden's name was never joined to it in his lifetime; nor was the play included in the first collected edition of his dramatic works, published in 1701. But in his Connection of The Indian Emperor to The Indian Queen (Scott-Saintsbury edition, ii. 321) Dryden claims part of the latter drama as his own work. (Compare headnote, page 21.) It is therefore just possible that he is the author of one or more of the following pieces.] ENJOYMENT A SONG AT THE KING'S HOUSE 30 [This song is found, with title as above, in New Court Songs and Poems, by R. V., Gent., 1672, from which the following text is taken. It also occurs in Covent Garden Drollery, 1672, where it is headed simply Song. It is included here because of its resemblance to a song in Marriage à la Mode: compare page 68. have been a variation by Dryden on the same theme.] It may In his Clymena's arms young Damon lay; Panting in that transport so o'er-blest, He seem'd just ready, just to die away. Whilst I stay behind, 10 This made the youth, now drawing to his end, His soul he did retain, That with himself he seem'd at strife Whether to let out love or keep in life. Then she, who already was hasting to death, Said softly, and trembling, and all out of breath: "O now, my love, now let us go! Die with me, Damon, now; for I die too." 20 Thus died they, but 't was of so sweet a death, That so to die again they took new breath. A SONG [See headnote, page 68.] I FAREWELL, dear Revecchia, my joy and my grief, Too long I have lov'd you and found no relief; To live in the country with fools is less pain vey, And thro' woods where I've been your journey Your name when you find upon every tree, thee." PROLOGUE TO JULIUS CÆSAR [This prologue was first printed in Covent Garden IN country beauties as we often see And take without their spreading of the snare: |