TRUE Wit has seen its best Days long ago; It ne'er look'd up since we were dipt in Show, When sense in dogrel Rhymes and Clouds was lost, And Dulness flourish'd at the Actors' Cost. Nor stopt it here; when Tragedy was done, Satire and Humour the same Fate have run, And Comedy is sunk to Trick and Pun. Now our machining Lumber will not sell, And you no longer care for Heav'n or Hell; What Stuff will please you next, the Lord can tell. Let them, who the Rebellion first began To Wit, restore the Monarch if they can; Our Author dares not be the first bold Man. He, like the prudent Citizen, takes care To keep for better Marts his staple Ware; His Toys are good enough for @3Sturbridge@1 Fair. Tricks were the Fashion; if it now be spent, 'Tis time enough at Easter to invent; No man will make up a new Suit for Lent. If now and then he takes a small Pretence, 20 To forage for a little Wit and Sense, Pray pardon him, he meant you no Offence, Next summer, @3Nostradamus@1 tells, they say, That all the Criticks shall be shipp'd away. And not enow be left to damn a Play. To every Sail beside, good Heav'n, be kind; But drive away that Swarm with such a Wind That not one Locust may be left behind! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST by WILLIAM DUNBAR SALOME by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE AFTER THE PLAY by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG CLOUDS by EDUARD VON BAUERNFELD LIGHTS THROUGH THE MIST by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |