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Proud to be rais'd by such destruction,

So far from quarr'lling with himselfe and wit,
That he wil thank them for the benefit,

Since finding nothing worthy of their hate,
They reach him that themselves must envy at:

<47.1> This was the theatre in Salisbury Court. See Collier,
H. E. D. P. iii. 289, and Halliwell's DICTIONARY OF OLD PLAYS,

art. SCHOLAR. From the terms of the epilogue it seems to have
been a piece occupying two hours in the performance. Judging,

I presume, from the opening lines, Mr. Halliwell supposes it
to have been originally acted at Gloucester Hall. Probably

Mr. Halliwell is right.
<47.2> A quibble on the two adjacent theatres in Whitefriars

and Blackfriars.
THE EPILOGUE.

The stubborne author of the trifle<48.1> crime,
That just now cheated you of two hours' time,

Presumptuous it lik't him,<48.2> began to grow
Carelesse, whether it pleased you or no.

But we who ground th' excellence of a play
On what the women at the dores wil say,

Who judge it by the benches, and afford
To take your money, ere his oath or word

His SCHOLLARS school'd, sayd if he had been wise
He should have wove in one two COMEDIES;

The first for th' gallery, in which the throne
To their amazement should descend alone,

The rosin-lightning flash, and monster spire
Squibs, and words hotter then his fire.

Th' other for the gentlemen oth' pit,
Like to themselves, all spirit, fancy, wit,

In which plots should be subtile as a flame,
Disguises would make PROTEUS stil the same:

Humours so rarely humour'd and exprest,
That ev'n they should thinke 'em so, not drest;

Vices acted and applauded too, times
Tickled, and th' actors acted, not their crimes,

So he might equallyapplause have gain'd
Of th' hardned, sooty, and the snowy hand.<48.3>

Where now one SO SO<48.4> spatters, t'other: no!
Tis his first play; twere solecisme 'tshould goe;

The next 't show'd pritily, but searcht within
It appeares bare and bald, as is his chin;

The towne-wit sentences: A SCHOLARS PLAY!
Pish! I know not why, but th'ave not the way.<48.5>

We, whose gaine is all our pleasure, ev'n these
Are bound by justice and religion to please;

Which he, whose pleasure's all his gaine, goes by
As slightly, as they doe his comaedy.

Culls out the few, the worthy, at whose feet
He sacrifices both himselfe and it,

His fancies first fruits: profit he knowes none,
Unles that of your approbation,

Which if your thoughts at going out will pay,
Hee'l not looke farther for a second day.<48.6>

<48.1> Perhaps TRIFLING was the word written by Lovelace.
A VENIAL OFFENCE is meant.

<48.2> It would be difficult to point out a writer so unpardonably
slovenly in his style or phraseology as Lovelace. By "Presumptuous

it lik't him," we must of course understand "Presumptuous that
he liked it himself," or presumptuously self-satisfied.

<48.3> i.e. the rough and dirty occupants of the gallery and
the fair spectators in the boxes.

<48.4> An exclamation of approval, when an actor made a hit.
The phrase seems to be somewhat akin to the Italian "SI, SI,"

a corruption of "SIA, SIA."
<48.5> i.e. they do not know how to act a play.

<48.6> This prologue and epilogue were clearly not attached
to the play when it was first performed by the fellow-collegians

of the poet at Gloucester Hall, as an amateur attempt in the
dramatic line, but were first added when "The Scholars" was

reproduced in London, and the parts sustained by ordinary actors.
AGAINST THE LOVE OF GREAT ONES.

Vnhappy youth, betrayd by Fate
To such a love<49.1> hath sainted hate,

And damned those celestiall bands<49.2>
Are onely knit with equal hands;

The love of great ones is a love,<49.3>
Gods are incapable to prove:

For where there is a joy uneven,
There never, never can be Heav'n:

'Tis such a love as is not sent
To fiends as yet for punishment;

IXION willingly doth feele
The gyre of his eternal wheele,

Nor would he now exchange his paine
For cloudes and goddesses againe.

Wouldst thou with tempests lye? Then bow
To th' rougher furrows of her brow,

Or make a thunder-bolt thy choyce?
Then catch at her more fatal voyce;

Or 'gender with the lightning? trye
The subtler<49.4> flashes of her eye:

Poore SEMELE<49.5> wel knew the same,
Who<49.6> both imbrac't her God and flame;

And not alone in soule did burne,
But in this love did ashes turne.

How il doth majesty injoy
The bow and gaity oth' boy,

As if the purple-roabe should sit,
And sentence give ith' chayr of wit.

Say, ever-dying wretch, to whom
Each answer is a certaine doom,<49.7>

What is it that you would possesse,
The Countes, or the naked Besse?<49.8>

Would you her gowne or title do?
Her box or gem, the<49.9> thing or show?

If you meane HER, the very HER,
Abstracted from her caracter,

Unhappy boy! you may as soone
With fawning wanton with the Moone,

Or with an amorous complaint
Get prostitute your very saint;

Not that we are not mortal, or
Fly VENUS altars, and<49.10> abhor

The selfesame knack, for which you pine;
But we (defend us!) are divine,

[Not] female, but madam born,<49.11> and come
From a right-honourable wombe.

Shal we then mingle with the base,
And bring a silver-tinsell race?

Whilst th' issue noble wil not passe
The gold alloyd<49.12> (almost halfe brasse),

And th' blood in each veine doth appeare,
Part thick Booreinn, part Lady Cleare;

Like to the sordid insects sprung
From Father Sun and Mother Dung:

Yet lose we not the hold we have,
But faster graspe the trembling slave;

Play at baloon with's heart, and winde
The strings like scaines, steale into his minde

Ten thousand false<49.13> and feigned joyes
Far worse then they; whilst, like whipt boys,

After this scourge hee's hush with toys.
This<49.14> heard, Sir, play stil in her eyes,

And be a dying, live<49.15> like flyes
Caught by their angle-legs, and whom

The torch laughs peece-meale to consume.
<49.1> i.e. THAT hath sainted, &c.

<49.2> So the Editor's MS. copy already described; the printed
copy has BONDS.

<49.3> So Editor's MS. Printed copy has--
"The Love of Great Ones? 'Tis a Love."

<<49.4>> Subtle--Editor's MS.
<49.5> Semele she--Editor's MS.

<49.6> She--Ibid.
<49.7> Dombe--LUCASTA.

<49.8> BESS is used in the following passage as a phrase
for a sort of female TOM-O-BEDLAM--

"We treat mad-Bedlams, TOMS and BESSES,
With ceremonies and caresses!"

Dixon's CANIDIA, 1683, part i. canto 2.
And the word seems also to have been employed to signify

the loose women who, in early times, made Covent Garden
and its neighbourhood their special haunt. See Cotgrave's

WITS INTERPRETER, 1662, p. 236. But here "naked Besse,"
means only a woman who, in contradistinction to a lady of rank,

has no adventitious qualities to recommend her.
<49.9> Original reads HER.

<49.10> Altars, or--LUCASTA.
<49.11> Borne--LUCASTA.

<49.12> Allay'd--LUCASTA.
<49.13> So Editor's MS. LUCASTA has HELLS.

<49.14> From this word down to LIVES is omitted in the MS. copy.
<49.15> Original has LIVES.

TO ALTHEA.
FROM PRISON.

SONG.
SET BY DR. JOHN WILSON.<50.1>

I.
When love with unconfined wings

Hovers within my gates;
And my divine ALTHEA brings

To whisper at the grates;
When I lye tangled in her haire,<50.2>

And fetterd to her eye,<50.3>
The birds,<50.4> that wanton in the aire,

Know no such liberty.
II.

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying THAMES,

Our carelesse heads with roses bound,
Our hearts with loyal flames;

When thirsty griefe in wine we steepe,
When healths and draughts go free,

Fishes, that tipple in the deepe,
Know no such libertie.

III.
When (like committed linnets<50.5>) I

With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetnes, mercy, majesty,

And glories of my King.
When I shall voyce aloud, how good

He is, how great should be,
Inlarged winds, that curle the flood,

Know no such liberty.
IV.

Stone walls doe not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;

Mindes innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;



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