105:01,000@@@@@| 105:01,000[' ]| 105:01,001[A ]| Since the sons of the Muses grow numerous and loud, 105:01,002[A ]| For$4$ the appeasing so$5#1$ clamorous and factious a crowd, 105:01,003[A ]| Apollo thought fit in$4$ so$5#1$ weighty a cause 105:01,004[A ]| To$9$ establish a government, leader and laws. 105:01,005[A ]| The hopes of the bays, at this summoning call, 105:01,006[A ]| Had drawn them together, the Devil and all. 105:01,007[A ]| All thronging and listening, they gaped for$4$ the blessing; 105:01,008[A ]| No$2$ Presbyter sermon had more crowding and pressing. 105:01,009[A ]| In$4$ the head of the gang John Dryden appeared, 105:01,010[A ]| That$6#2$ ancient grave wit so$5#1$ long loved and feared,<10> 105:01,011[A ]| But Apollo had heard a story in$4$ the town 105:01,012[A ]| Of his quitting the Muses to$9$ wear the black gown, 105:01,013[A ]| And so$3$ gave him leave, now his poetry is done, 105:01,014[A ]| To$9$ let him turn priest, when Reeves is turned nun. 105:01,015[A ]| This reverend author was no$2$ sooner set by$5$, 105:01,016[A ]| But Apollo had got gentle George in$4$ the eye, 105:01,017[A ]| And frankly confessed of all men that$6#1$ writ 105:01,018[A ]| There is none had more fancy, sense, judgment and wit. 105:01,019[A ]| But in$4$ the crying sin idleness he was so$5#1$ hardened 105:01,020[A ]| That$3$ his long seven years' silence was not to$9$ be pardoned.<20> 105:01,021[A ]| Brawny Wycherley was the next man showed his face, 105:01,022[A ]| But Apollo even thought him too good for$4$ the place. 105:01,023[A ]| No$2$ gentleman writer that$6#2$ office should bear: 105:01,024[A ]| It was a trader in$4$ wit the laurel should wear, 105:01,025[A ]| As none but a cit ever makes a Lord Mayor. 105:01,026[A ]| Next into the crowd Tom Shadwell does wallow 105:01,027[A ]| And swears by$4$ his guts, his paunch and his tallow 105:01,028[A ]| That$3$ it is he alone best pleases the age: 105:01,029[A ]| Himself and his wife have supported the stage. 105:01,030[A ]| Apollo, well pleased with so$5#1$ bonny a lad,<30> 105:01,031[A ]| To$9$ oblige him he told him he should be huge glad 105:01,032[A ]| Had he half so$5#1$ much wit as he fancied he had. 105:01,033[A ]| However, to$9$ please so$5#1$ jovial a wit, 105:01,034[A ]| And to$9$ keep him in$4$ humour, Apollo thought fit 105:01,035[A ]| To$9$ bid him drink on$5$, and keep his old trick 105:01,036[A ]| Of railing at poets and showing his prick. 105:01,037[A ]| Nat Lee stepped in$5$ next in$4$ hopes of a prize; 105:01,038[A ]| Apollo remembered he had hit once in$4$ thrice. 105:01,039[A ]| By$4$ the rubies in$4$ his face he could not deny 105:01,040[A ]| He had as much wit as wine could supply,<40> 105:01,041[A ]| Confessed that$3$ indeed he had a musical note, 105:01,042[A ]| But sometimes strained so$5#1$ hard that$3$ he rattled in$4$ the throat. 105:01,043[A ]| Yet owning he had sense, to$9$ encourage him for$4$ it, 105:01,044[A ]| He made him his Ovid in$4$ Augustus's court. 105:01,045[A ]| Poor Settle his trial was the next came about; 105:01,046[A ]| He brought him an Ibrahim with the preface torn out, 105:01,047[A ]| And humbly desired he might give no$2$ offence. 105:01,048[A ]| "Damn him!" cries Shadwell, "He can not write sense." 105:01,049[A ]| And "Ballocks!" cries Newport, "I hate that$6#2$ dull rogue." 105:01,050[A ]| Apollo, considering he was not in$4$ vogue,<50> 105:01,051[A ]| Would not trust his dear bays with so$5#1$ modest a fool 105:01,052[A ]| And bid the great boy should be sent back to$4$ school. 105:01,053[A ]| Tom Otway came next, Tom Shadwell's dear zany, 105:01,054[A ]| And swears for$4$ heroics he writes best of any. 105:01,055[A ]| Don Carlos his pockets so$5#1$ amply had filled, 105:01,056[A ]| That$3$ his mange was quite cured, and his lice were all killed. 105:01,057[A ]| But Apollo had seen his face on$4$ the stage, 105:01,058[A ]| And prudently did not think fit to$9$ engage 105:01,059[A ]| The scum of a playhouse for$4$ the prop of an age. 105:01,060[A ]| In$4$ the numerous herd that$6#1$ encompassed him round,<60> 105:01,061[A ]| Little starched Johnny Crowne at his elbow he found. 105:01,062[A ]| His cravat-string new ironed, he gently did stretch 105:01,063[A ]| His lily-white hand out the laurel to$9$ reach, 105:01,064[A ]| Alleging that$3$ he had most right to$4$ the bays, 105:01,065[A ]| For$4$ writing romances and shiting of plays. 105:01,066[A ]| Apollo rose up$5$ and gravely confessed, 105:01,067[A ]| Of all men that$6#1$ writ his talent was best: 105:01,068[A ]| For$3$ since pain and dishonour man's life only damn, 105:01,069[A ]| The greatest felicity mankind can claim 105:01,070[A ]| Is to$9$ want sense of smart and be past sense of shame,<70> 105:01,071[A ]| And to$9$ perfect his bliss in$4$ poetical rapture, 105:01,072[A ]| He bade him be dull to$4$ the end of the chapter. 105:01,073[A ]| The poetess Aphra next showed her sweet face 105:01,074[A ]| And swore by$4$ her poetry and her black ace 105:01,075[A ]| The laurel by$4$ a double right was her own 105:01,076[A ]| For$4$ the plays she had writ and the conquests she had won. 105:01,077[A ]| Apollo acknowledged it was hard to$9$ deny her, 105:01,078[A ]| But to$9$ deal frankly and ingeniously by$4$ her 105:01,079[A ]| He told her, were conquests and charms her pretence, 105:01,080[A ]| She ought to$9$ have pleaded a dozen years since.<80> 105:01,081[A ]| At last Mamamouchi came in$5$ for$4$ a share, 105:01,082[A ]| And little Tom Essence's author was there, 105:01,083[A ]| Nor could Durfey forbear for$4$ the laurel to$9$ stickle, 105:01,084[A ]| Protesting he had had the honour to$9$ tickle 105:01,085[A ]| The ears of the town with his dear Madam Fickle, 105:01,086[A ]| With other pretenders whose names I would rehearse, 105:01,087[A ]| But that$3$ they are too long to$9$ stand in$4$ my verse. 105:01,088[A ]| Apollo quite tired with their tedious harangue, 105:01,089[A ]| Finds at last Tom Betterton's face in$4$ the gang, 105:01,090[A ]| And since poets without the kind players may hang,<90> 105:01,091[A ]| By$4$ his own sacred light he solemnly swore 105:01,092[A ]| That$3$ in$4$ search of a laureate he would look out no$2$ more. 105:01,093[A ]| A general murmur ran quite through the hall 105:01,094[A ]| To$9$ think that$3$ the bays to$4$ an actor should fall; 105:01,095[A ]| But Apollo, to$9$ quiet and pacify all, 105:01,096[A ]| Even told them, to$9$ put his desert to$4$ the test, 105:01,097[A ]| That$3$ he had made plays as well as the best, 105:01,098[A ]| And was the greatest wonder the age ever bore, 105:01,099[A ]| For$3$ of all the play scribblers that$6#1$ ever writ before, 105:01,100[A ]| His wit had most worth and most modesty in$4$ it,<100> 105:01,101[A ]| For$3$ he had writ plays, yet never came in$4$ print.