by John Dryden
In the mean time, you wou’d fain be nibbling at a parallel betwixt this Association and that in the time of Queen Elizabeth. But there is this small difference betwixt them, that the ends of the one are directly opposite to the other: one with the Queen’s approbation and conjunction, as head of it; the other, without either the consent, or knowledge of the King, against whose Authority it is manifestly designed. Therefore, you doe well to have recourse to your last Evasion, that it was contriv’d by your Enemies, and shuffled into the Papers that were seiz’d; which yet you see the nation is not so easy to believe as your own Jury; But the matter is not difficult, to find twelve men in New-gate, who would acquit a Malefactour.
I have one onely favour to desire of you at parting, that when you think of answering this Poem, you wou’d employ the same Pens against it who have combated with so much success against Absalom and Achitophel : for then you may assure yourselves of a clear Victory, without the least reply. Raile at me abundantly; and, not to break a Custome, doe it without wit: By this method you will gain a considerable point, which is wholly to wave the answer of my Arguments. Never own the botome of your Principles, for fear they shoud be Treason. Fall severely on the miscarriages of Government: for, if scandal be not allow’d, you are no freeborn subjects. If God has not bless’d you with the Talent of Rhiming, make use of my poor Stock and wellcome: let your Verses run upon my feet; and for the utmost refuge of notorious Block-heads, reduc’d to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines upon me; and, in utter despaire of your own Satyre, make me Satyrize my self. Some of you have been driven to this Bay already; But above all the rest commend me to the Non-conformist Parson, who writ the Whip and Key. I am afraid it is not read so much as the Piece deserves, because the bookseller is every week crying help at the end of his Gazette, to get it off. You see I am charitable enough to doe him a kindness, that it may be publish’d as well as printed; and that so much skill in Hebrew Derivations may not lie for Wast-paper in the Shop. Yet I half suspect he went no farther for his learning, than the Index of Hebrew Names and Etymologies, which is printed at the end of some English Bibles. If Achitophel signify the Brother of a Fool, the Authour of that Poem will pass with his Readers for the next of kin. And perhaps ’tis the Relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the Verses are, buy ‘em up I beseech you out of pity; for I hear the Conventicle is shut up, and the Brother of Achitophel out of service.
Now Footmen, you know, have the generosity to make a Purse for a Member of their Society, who has had his Livery pull’d over his Ears; and even Protestant Socks are bought up among you, out of veneration to the name. A Dissenter in Poetry from Sense and English will make as good a Protestant Rhymer, as a Dissenter from the Church of England a Protestant Parson. Besides, if you encourage a young Beginner, who knows but he may elevate his stile a little above the vulgar epithets of prophane and sawcy jack, and Atheistick Scribler, with which he treats me, when the fit of Enthusiasm is strong upon him: by which well-mannered and charitable Expressions I was certain of his Sect, before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man? he has damn’d me in your Cause from Genesis to the Revelations : And has half the Texts of both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to your selves as to take him for your Interpreter; and not to take them for Irish Witnesses. After all, perhaps you will tell me, that you retain’d him onely for the opening of your Cause, and that your main Lawyer is yet behind. Now if it so happen he meet with no more reply than his Predecessours, you may either conclude that I trust to the goodness of my Cause, or fear my Adversary, or disdain him, or what you please, for the short on’t is, ’tis indifferent to your humble servant, whatever your Party says or thinks of him.
The Medall
A SATYRE AGAINST SEDITION.
OF all our Antick Sights and Pageantry
Which English Idiots run in crowds to see,
The Polish Medal bears the prize alone:
A Monster, more the Favourite of the Town
Than either Fairs or Theatres have shown. 5
Never did Art so well with Nature strive,
Nor ever Idol seem’d so much alive;
So like the Man; so golden to the sight,
So base within, so counterfeit and light.
One side is fill’d with Title and with Face; 10
And, lest the King shou’d want a regal Place,
On the reverse, a Tow’r the Town surveys,
O’er which our mounting Sun his beams displays.
The Word, pronounc’d aloud by Shrieval voice,
Lætamur, which in Polish is rejoyce, 15
The Day, Month, Year, to the great Act are join’d,
And a new Canting Holiday design’d.
Five daies he sate for every cast and look;
Four more than God to finish Adam took.
But who can tell what Essence angels are 20
Or how long Heav’n was making Lucifer?
Oh, cou’d the Style that copy’d every grace
And plough’d such furrows for an Eunuch face,
Cou’d it have formed his ever-changing Will,
The various Piece had tir’d the Graver’s Skill! 25
A Martial Heroe first, with early care
Blown, like a Pigmee by the Winds, to war.
A beardless Chief, a Rebel e’er a Man,
(So young his hatred to his Prince began.)
Next this, (How wildly will Ambition steer!) 30
A Vermin wriggling in th’ Usurper’s ear,
Bart’ring his venal wit for sums of gold,
He cast himself into the Saint-like mould;
Groan’d, sigh’d, and pray’d, while Godliness was gain,
The lowdest Bag-pipe of the Squeaking train. 35
But, as ’tis hard to cheat a Juggler’s Eyes,
His open lewdness he cou’d ne’er disguise.
There split the Saint: for Hypocritique Zeal
Allows no Sins but those it can conceal.
Whoring to Scandal gives too large a scope; 40
Saints must not trade; but they may interlope.
Th’ ungodly Principle was all the same;
But a gross Cheat betrays his Partner’s Game.
Besides, their pace was formal, grave, and slack;
His nimble Wit out-ran the heavy Pack. 45
Yet still he found his Fortune at a stay,
Whole droves of Blockheads choaking up his way;
They took, but not rewarded, his advice;
Villain and Wit exact a double price.
Pow’r was his aym; but, thrown from that pretence, 50
The Wretch turned loyal in his own defence,
And Malice reconciled him to his Prince.
Him, in the anguish of his Soul he serv’d;
Rewarded faster still than he deserv’d.
Behold him, now exalted into trust; 55
His Counsels oft convenient, seldom just;
Ev’n in the most sincere advice he gave
He had a grudging still to be a Knave.
The Frauds he learnt in his Fanatique years
Made him uneasie in his lawfull gears. 60
At best as little honest as he cou’d:
And, like white Witches, mischievously good.
To his first byass, longingly he leans;
And rather would be great by wicked means.
Thus fram’d for ill, he loos’d our Triple hold; 65
(Advice unsafe, precipitous, and bold.)
From hence those tears! that Ilium of our woe!
Who helps a pow’rful Friend fore-arms a foe.
What wonder if the Waves prevail so far,
When He cut down the Banks that made the bar? 70
Seas follow but their Nature to invade;
But he by Art our native Strength betray’d.
So Sampson to his Foe his force confest,
And, to be shorn, lay slumb’ring on her breast.
But, when this fatal Counsel, found too
late, 75
Expos’d its Authour to the publique hate;
When his just Sovereign, by no impious way,
Cou’d be seduced to Arbitrary sway;
Forsaken of that hope, he shifts the sayle;
Drives down the Current with a pop’lar gale; 80
And shows the Fiend confess’d without a vail.
He preaches to the Crowd that Pow’r is lent,
But not convey’d to Kingly Government;
That Claimes successive bear no binding force;
That Coronation Oaths are things of course; 85
Maintains the Multitude can never err;
And sets the People in the Papal Chair.
The reason’s obvious; Int’rest never lyes;
The most have still their Int’rest in their eyes;
The pow’r is always theirs, and pow’r is ever wise. 90
Almighty crowd, thou shorten’st all dispute;
Power is thy Essence; Wit thy Attribute!
Nor Faith nor Reason make thee at a stay,
Thou leapst o’er all Eternal truths in thy Pindarique way!
Athens, no doubt, did righteously decide, 95
When Phocion and when Socrates were try’d;
As righteously they did those dooms repent;
Still they were wise, whatever way they went.
Crowds err not, though to both extremes they run;
To kill the Father and recall the son. 100
Some think the Fools were most as times went then,
But now the World’s o’er stock’d with prudent men.
The common Cry is ev’n Religion’s Test;
The Turk’s is, at Constantinople, best,
Idols in India, Popery at Rome, 105
And our own Worship onely true at home,
And true, but for the time, ’tis hard to know
How long we please it shall continue so;
This side to-day, and that to-morrow burns;
So all are God a’mighties in their turns. 110
A Tempting Doctrine, plausible and new;
What Fools our Fathers were, if this be true!
Who, to destroy the seeds of Civil War,
Inherent right in Monarchs did declare:
And, that a lawfull Pow’r might never cease, 115
Secur’d Succession, to secure our Peace.
Thus Property and Sovereign Sway, at last
In equal Balances were justly cast:
But this new Jehu spurs the hot mouth’d horse;
Instructs the Beast to know his native force: 120
To take the Bit between his teeth and fly
To the next headlong Steep of Anarchy.
Too happy England, if our good we knew;
Wou’d we possess the freedom we pursue!
The lavish Government can give no more; 125
Yet we repine; and plenty makes us poor.
God try’d us once; our Rebel-fathers fought;
He glutted ‘em with all the Pow’r they sought,
Till, master’d by their own usurping Brave,
The free-born Subject sunk into a Slave. 130
We loath our Manna, and we long for Quails;
Ah, what is man, when his own wish prevails!
How rash, how swift to plunge himself in ill;
Proud of his Pow’r and boundless in his Will!
That Kings can doe no wrong we must believe; 135
None can they do, and must they all receive?
Help Heav’n! or sadly we shall see an hour,
When neither wrong nor right are in their pow’r!
Already they have lost their best defence,
The benefit of Laws which they dispence. 140
No justice to their righteous Cause allow’d;
But baffled by an Arbitrary Crowd;
And Medalls grav’d, their Conquest to record,
The Stamp and Coyn of their adopted Lord.
The Man who laugh’d but once, to see an Ass 145
Mumbling to make the cross-grained Thistles pass,
Might laugh again, to see a Jury chaw
The prickles of unpalatable Law.
The Witnesses that, Leech-like, liv’d on bloud,
Sucking for them were med’cinally good; 150
But, when they fasten’d on their fester’d Sore,
Then Justice and Religion they forswore,
Their Maiden Oaths debauch’d into a Whore.
Thus Men are rais’d by Factions and decry’d;
And Rogue and Saint distinguish’d by their Side. 155
They rack ev’n Scripture to confess their Cause;
And plead a Call to preach in spight of Laws.
But that’s no news to the poor injur’d Page,
It has been us’d as ill in every Age;
And is constrain’d, with patience, all to take; 160
For what defence can Greek and Hebrew make?
Happy who can this talking Trumpet seize;
They make it speak whatever Sense they please!
’Twas fram’d at first our Oracle t’ enquire;
But Since our Sects in prophecy grow higher, 165
The Text inspires not them; but they the Text inspire.
London, thou great Emporium of our Isle,
O, thou too bounteous, thou too fruitfull Nile!
How shall I praise or curse to thy desert!
Or separate thy sound, from thy corrupted part! 170
I call’d thee Nile; the parallel will stand:
Thy tydes of Wealth o’erflow the fatten’d Land;
Yet Monsters from thy large increase we find
Engender’d on the Slyme thou leav’st behind.
Sedition has not wholly seiz’d on thee, 175
Thy nobler Parts are from infection free.
Of Israel’s Tribes thou hast a numerous band;
But still the Canaanite is in the Land.
Thy military Chiefs are brave and true,
Nor are thy disinchanted Burghers few. 180
The Head is loyal which thy Heart commands,
But what’s a Head with two such gouty Hands?
The wise and wealthy love the surest way;
And are content to thrive and to obey.
But Wisedom is to Sloath too great a Slave; 185
None are so busy as the Fool and Knave.
Those let me curse; what vengeance will they urge,
Whose Ordures neither Plague nor Fire can purge;
Nor sharp experience can to duty bring,
Nor angry Heaven nor a forgiving King! 190
In Gospel phrase their Chapmen they betray;
Their Shops are Dens, the Buyer is their Prey.
The Knack of Trades is living on the Spoil;
They boast e’en when each other they beguile.
Customs to steal is such a trivial thing, 195
That ’tis their Charter to defraud their King.
All hands unite of every jarring Sect;
They cheat the Country first, and then infect.
They, for God’s Cause their Monarchs dare dethrone,
And they’ll be sure to make his Cause their own. 200
Whether the plotting Jesuite lay’d the plan
Of murth’ring Kings, or the French Puritan,
Our Sacrilegious Sects their guides outgo;
And Kings and Kingly Pow’r would murther too.
What means their Trait’rous Combination less, 205
Too plain t’evade, too shamefull to confess?
But Treason is not own’d when ’tis descry’d;
Successfull Crimes alone are justify’d.
The Men, who no Conspiracy wou’d find,
Who doubts but, had it taken, they had join’d? 210
Join’d in a mutual Cov’nant of defence;
At first without, at last against their Prince?
If Sovereign Right by Sovereign Pow’r they scan,
The same bold Maxime holds in God and M
an:
God were not safe; his Thunder cou’d they shun 215
He shou’d be forc’d to crown another Son.
Thus, when the Heir was from the Vineyard thrown,
The rich Possession was the Murth’rers own.
In vain to Sophistry they have recourse;
By proving theirs no Plot they prove ’tis worse, 220
Unmask’d Rebellion, and audacious Force,
Which, though not Actual, yet all Eyes may see
’Tis working, in th’ immediate Pow’r to be;
For from pretended Grievances they rise,
First to dislike, and after to despise; 225
Then, Cyclop-like, in humane Flesh to deal,
Chop up a Minister at every meal;
Perhaps not wholly to melt down the King;
But clip his regal rights within the Ring.
From thence t’ assume the pow’r of Peace and War; 230
And ease him by degrees of publique Care.
Yet, to consult his Dignity and Fame,
He shou’d have leave to exercise the Name,
And hold the Cards while Commons play’d the game.
For what can Pow’r give more than Food and Drink, 235
To live at ease, and not be bound to think?