They are all but the cold-meats of the antients, newheated, and new set forth. I do not at all wonder that the old poets made some rich crops out of these grounds; the heart of the soil was not then wrought out with continual tillage: but what can we expect now, who come a gleaning, not after the first reapers, but after the very beggars? Besides, though those mad stories of the gods and heroes seem in themselves so ridiculous, yet they were then the whole body (or rather chaos) of the theology of those times. They were believed by all, but a few philosophers, and perhaps some atheists; and served to good purpose among the vulgar (as pitiful things as they are), in strengthening the authority of law with the terrors of conscience, and expectation of certain rewards and unavoidable punishments. There was no other religion; and therefore that was better than none at all. But to us, who have no need of them; to us, who deride their folly, and are wearied with their impertinences; they ought to appear no better arguments for verse, than those of their worthy succes sors, the knights errant. What can we imagine more proper for the ornaments of wit or learning in the story of Deucalion, than in that of Noah? Why will not the actions of Sampson afford as plentiful matter as the labours of Hercules? Why is not Jeptha's daughter as good a woman as Iphigenia? and the friendship of David and Jonathan more worthy celebration than that of Theseus and Perithous? Does not

the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetical variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Æneas? Are the obsolete thread-bare tales of Thebes and Troy half so stored with great, heroical, and supernatural actions (since verse will needs find or make such), as the wars of Joshua, of the Judges, of David, and divers others? Can all the transformations of the gods give such copious hints to flourish and expatiate on, as the true miracles of Christ, or of his prophets and apostles? What do I instance in these few particulars? All the books of the Bible are either already most admirable and exalted pieces of poesy, or are the best materials in the world for it.

Yet, though they be in themselves so proper to be made use of for this purpose, none but a good artist will know how to do it: neither must we think to cut and polish diamonds with so little pains and skill as we do marble. For, if any man design to compose a sacred poem, by only turning a story of the Scripture, like Mr. Quarles's, or some other godly matter, like Mr. Heywood of angels, into rhyme, he is so far from elevating of poesy, that he only abases divinity. In brief, he who can write a profane poem well, may write a divine one better; but he who can do that but ill, will do this much worse. The same fertility of invention; the same wisdom of disposition; the same judgment in observance of decencies; the same lustre and vigor of elocution; the same modesty and majesty

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of number; briefly, the same kind of habit, is required to both: only this latter allows better stuff; and therefore would look more deformedly, ill drest in it. I am far from assuming to myself to have fulfilled the duty of this weighty undertaking: but sure I am, there is nothing yet in our language (nor perhaps in any) that is in any degree answerable to the idea that I conceive of it. And I shall be ambitious of no other fruit from this weak and imperfect attempt of mine, but the opening of a way to the courage and industry of some other persons, who may be better able to perform it thoroughly and successfully.

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE

TO THE CUTTER OF COLEMAN STREET.

A COMEDY, called The Guardian, and made by me when I was very young, was acted formerly at Cambridge; and several times after, privately, during the troubles, as I am told, with good approbation, as it has been lately too at Dublin. There being many things in it which I disliked, and finding myself for some days idle, and alone in the country, I fell upon the changing of it almost wholly, as now it is, and as it was played since at his Royal Highness's theatre, under this new name. It met at the first representation with no favourable reception; and I think there was something of faction against it, by the early appearance of some men's disapprobation before they had seen enough of it to build their dislike upon their judgment. Afterwards it got some ground, and found friends, as well as adversaries. In which condition I should willingly let it die, if the main imputation under which it suffered had been shot only against

my wit or art in these matters, and not directed against the tenderest parts of human reputation, good-nature, good-manners, and piety itself.

The first clamour, which some malicious persons raised, and made a great noise with, was, that it was a piece intended for abuse and satire against the King's party. Good God! against the King's party? After having served it twenty years, during all the time of their misfortunes and afflictions, I must be a very rash and imprudent person, if I chose out that of their restitution to begin a quarrel with them. I must be too much a madman to be trusted with such an edged tool as comedy. But first, why should either the whole party (as it was once distinguished by that name, which I hope is abolished now by universal loyalty), or any man of virtue or honour in it, believe themselves injured, or at all concerned, by the representation of the faults and follies of a few, who, in the general division of the nation, had crouded in among them? In all mixed numbers (which is the case of parties), nay, in the most entire and continued bodies, there are often some degenerated and corrupted parts, which may be cast away from that, and even cut off from this unity, without any infection of scandal to the remaining body. The church of Rome, with all her arrogance, and her wide pretences of certainty in all truths, and exemption from all errors, does not clap on this enchanted armour of infallibility upon all her particular subjects, nor is offended at the reproof