Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DON SEBASTIAN: PROLOGUE, by JOHN DRYDEN

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DON SEBASTIAN: PROLOGUE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The judge removed, though he's no more my lord
Last Line: And let him pay his taxes out in writing.
Subject(s): Great Britain - Commonwealth & Colonies; Judges; Plays & Playwrights ; Religious Discrimination; British Empire; England - Empire; Dramatists; Religious Conflict

THE Judge remov'd, tho he's no more My Lord,
May plead at Bar, or at the Council-Board:
So may cast Poets write; there's no Pretension,
To argue loss of Wit from loss of Pension.
Your looks are cheerful; and in all this place
I see not one that wears a damning face.
The British Nation is too brave to show
Ignoble vengeance on a vanquish'd foe.
At least be civil to the Wretch imploring;
And lay your Paws upon him without roaring:
Suppose our Poet was your foe before,
Yet now, the bus'ness of the Field is o'er;
'Tis Time to let your Civil Wars alone,
When Troops are into Winter-quarters gone.
Jove was alike to Latian and to Phrygian;
And you well know, a Play's of no Religion.
Take good advice, and please your selves this Day
No matter from what hands you have the Play.
Among good Fellows ev'ry health will pass,
That serves to carry round another glass:
When with full bowls of Burgundy you dine,
Tho at the Mighty Monarch you repine,
You grant him still most Christian, in his Wine.
Thus far the Poet; but his brains grow Addle,
And all the rest is purely from this Noddle.
You've seen young Ladies at the Senate door
Prefer Petitions, and your grace implore;
However grave the Legislators were,
Their Cause went ne're the worse for being fair.
Reasons as weak as theirs, perhaps I bring;
But I cou'd bribe you with as good a thing,
I heard him make advances of good Nature,
That he for once, wou'd sheath his cutting Satyr:
Sign but his Peace, he vows he'll ne'er again
The Sacred Names of Fops and Beaus profane.
Strike up the Bargain quickly; for I swear,
As Times go now, he offers very fair.
Be not too hard on him with Statutes neither;
Be kind; and do not set your Teeth together,
To stretch the Laws, as Coblers do their Leather.
Horses by Papists are not to be ridden,
But sure the Muses Horse was ne're forbidden;
For in no Rate-Book it was ever found
That Pegasus was valued at Five-pound:
Fine him to dayly Drudging and Inditing;
And let him pay his Taxes out in Writing.

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