Expecting supper is his great delight;
He toils all day but to be drunk at night;
Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits,
Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall for wits.*

Rochester I despise for want of wit,
Though thought to have a tail and cloven feet;
For while he mischief means to all mankind,
Himself alone the ill effects does find:
And so like witches justly suffers shame,
Whose harmless malice is so much the same.
False are his words, affected is his wit;
So often he does aim, so seldom hit :
To every face he cringes while he speaks,
But when the back is turn'd, the head he breaks:
Mean in each action, lewd in every limb,
Manners themselves are mischievous in him:
A proof that chance alone makes every creature
A very Killigrew without good nature. †

• Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall for wits] Sir George Hewit, a man of quality, famous for gallantry, and often named in the State Poems. Sir George Etheredge intended for him the celebrated character of Sir Fopling Flutter. 'Scarce will there greater grief pierce every heart, Should Sir George Hewit, or Sir Carr, depart. Had it not better been, than thus to roam, To stay and tie the cravat string at home; To strut, look big, shake pantaloon, and swear, With Hewit, Dammee, there's no action there.' State Poems, vol. i. p. 155. The above lines are addressed by Rochester to Lord Mulgrave, when bound for Tangier.

Jack Hall, a courtier, whom I take to be the same with Uzza in the second part of Absalom and Achitophel, is thus mentioned in the State Poems, vol. ii. p. 135:

Jack Hall

left town,

But first writ something he dare own,
Of prologue lawfully begotten,

And full nine months maturely thought on:
Born with hard labour, and much pain,
Ousely was Dr. Chamberlain.

At length from stuff and rubbish pick'd,
As bears' cubs into shape are lick'd,
When Wharton, Etherege, and Soame,
To give it their last strokes were come,
Those critics differ'd in their doom.
Yet Swan says, he admir'd it 'scap'd,
Since 't was Jack Hall's, without being clapp'd.'
Swan was a notorious punster. D.

A very Killigrew without good nature] Thomas Killigrew, of whom we hear daily so many plea sant stories related, had good natural parts, but no regular education. He was brother to Sir William Killigrew, vice-chamberlain to King Charles the

For what a Bessus has he always liv'd,
And his own kickings notably contriv'd?
For, there's the folly that's still mix'd with fear,
Onwards more blows than any hero bear;
Of fighting sparks some may their pleasures
But 't is a bolder thing to run away: [say,
The world may well forgive him all his ill,
For every fault does prove his penance still:
Falsely he falls into some dangerous noose,
And then as meanly labours to get loose;
A life so infamous is better quitting,
Spent in base injury and low submitting.
I'd like to have left out his poetry;
Forgot by all almost as well as me.
Sometimes he has some humour, never wit,
And if it rarely, very rarely, hit,
'T is under so much nasty rubbish laid,
To find it out's the cinder woman's trade;
Who for the wretched remnants of a fire
Must toil all day in ashes and in mire.
So lewdly dull his idle works appear,
The wretched texts deserve no comments here;
Where one poor thought sometimes, left all alone
For a whole page of dulness must atone.

How vain a thing is man, and how unwise?
E'en he, who would himself the most despise?
I, who so wise and humble seem to be,
Now my own vanity and pride can't see,
While the world's nonsense is so sharply shown,
We pull down others but to raise our own;
That we may angels seem, we paint them elves,
And are but satires to set up ourselves.
I, who have all this while been finding fault,
E'en with my master, who first satire taught;
And did by that describe the task so hard,
It seems stupendous and above reward!
Now labour with unequal force to climb
That lofty hill, unreach'd by former time:
'T is just that I should to the bottom fall,
Learn to write well, or not to write at all.

Second's queen; had been some time page of honour to King Charles I. and was, after the restoration, many years master of the revels, and groom of the chamber to King Charles II., in whose exile he shared, being his resident at Venice in 1651. During his travels abroad he wrote several plays, none of which are much talked of. His itch of writing, and his character as a wit and companion, occasioned this distich from Sir John Denham, 'Had Cowley ne'er spoke, Killigrew ne'er writ, Combin'd in one they'd made a matchless wit. The same knight wrote a ballad on him.

Killigrew was a most facetious companion; his wit was lively and spirited; and he had a manner of saying the bitterest things, without provoking resentment; he tickled you while he made you smart, and you overlooked the pain, charmed by the pleasure. He died at Whitehall in March 1682, aged seventy-one, bewailed by his friends, and truly wept for by the poor. D.

For what a Bessus has he always liv'd] Bessus is a remarkable cowardly character in Beaumont and Fletcher.

voured to commit it. Besides the respect which I owe his birth, I have a greater for his heroic virtues; and David himself could not be more tender of the young man's life than I would be of his reputation. But since the most excellent natures are always the most easy, and, as being such, are the soonest perverted by ill counsels, especially when baited with fame and glory; 't is no more a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it was for Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to prosecute, because I could not obtain from myself to show Absalom unfortunate. The frame of it was cut out but for a picture to the waist, and if the draught be so far true, 't is as much as I designed.

Were I the inventor, who am only the historian, I should certainly conclude the piece with the reconcilement of Absalom to David. And who knows but this may come to pass? Things were not brought to an extremity where I left the story; there seems yet to be room left for a composure; hereafter there may be only for pity. I have not so much as an uncharitable wish against Achitophel, but am content to be accused of a good-natur'd error, and to hope with Origen, that the devil himself may at last be saved. For which reason, in this poem, he is neither brought to set his house in order, nor to dispose of his person afterwards as he in wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful; and his vicegerent is only not so, because he is not infinite.

The true end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction. And he, who writes honestly, is no more an enemy to the offender, than the physician to the patient, when he prescribes harsh remedies to an inveterate disease; for those are only in order to prevent the chirurgeon's work of an Ense recidendum, which I wish not to my very enemies. To conclude all; if the body politic have any analogy to the natural, in my weak judgment, an act of oblivion were as necessary in a hot distempered state, as an opiate would be in a raging fever.

ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.* In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin;

Among the many answers to, and remarks on, this poem, the following are curious:- Towser the Second, a Bulldog; or, a short Reply to Absalon and Achitophel,' folio, half-sheet, London, 1631. Absalon's, IX. Worthies,' a Poem, folio, half-sheet, no

When man on many multiplied his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confined;
When nature prompted, and no law denied,
Promiscuous use of concubine and bride;
Then Israel's monarch after heaven's own
heart,

His vigorous warmth did variously impart
To wives and slaves; and wide as his command,
Scatter'd his Maker's image through the land.
Michal, of royal blood, the crown did wear;
A soil ungrateful to the tiller's care:
Not so the rest; for several mothers bore
To god-like David several sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No true succession could their seed attend.
Of all this numerous progeny was none
So beautiful, so brave, as Absalom:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner lust,
His father got him with a greater gust;
Or that his conscious destiny made way,
By manly beauty, to imperial sway.
Early in foreign fields he won renown,
With kings and states allied to Israel's crown t
In peace the thoughts of war he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease,
In him alone 't was natural to please:
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And paradise was open'd in his face.†
With secret joy indulgent David view'd
His youthful image in his son renew'd:
To all his wishes nothing he denied ;
And made the carming Annabel his bride.
What faults he had, (for who from faults is
free?)

His father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses which the law forbore,
Were construed youth that purg'd by boiling o'er,
And Amnon's murder, by a specious name,
Was call'd a just revenge for injur'd fame.
Thus prais'd and lov'd, the noble youth remain'd,
While David undisturb'd in Sion reign'd.
But life can never be sincerely blest;
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a headstrong, moody, murmuring
race,

As ever tried the extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people, whom, debauch'd with

ease,

No king could govern, nor no God could please;

date. Poetical Reflections on Absalom and Achitophel,' folio, s. d. Absalom Senior;' a Poem, folio, 1682. T.

And paradise was open'd in his face] Pope's Eloisa, in her compliment to Abelard on his founding the Paraclete, is certainly indebted to this personal description; and the ingenuity of the poet, in the local adaptation, is truly admirable:

You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desart smil'd And paradise was open'd in the wild.' T.

(Gods they had tried of every shape and size,
That godsmiths could produce, or priests de-
These Adam-wits,* too fortunately free, [vise:)
Began to dream they wanted liberty;
And when no rule, no precedent was found,
Of men, by laws less circumscrib'd and bound;
They led their wild desires to woods and

caves,

And thought that all but savages were slaves. They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow,

Made foolish Ishbosheth the crown forego;
Who banish'd David did from Hebron bring,
And with a general shout proclaim'd him king:
Those very Jews, who, at their very best,
Their humour more than loyalty exprest,
Now wonder'd why so long they had obey'd
An idol monarch, which their hands had made;
Thought they might ruin him they could create,
Or melt him to that golden calf a state.
But these were random bolts: no form'd design,
Nor interest, made the factious crowd to join:
The sober part of Israel, free from stain,
Well knew the value of a peaceful reign;
And, looking backward with a wise affright,
Saw seams of wounds dishonest to the sight:
In contemplation of whose ugly scars
They curst the memory of civil wars.
The moderate sort of men thus qualified,
Inclined the balance to the better side;
And David's mildness managed it so well,
The bad found no eccasion to rebel.
But when to sin our biass'd nature leans,
The careful devil is still at hand with means;
And providently pimps for ill desires:
The good old cause revived a plot requires.
Plots, true or false, are necessary things,
To raise up commonweaiths, and ruin kings.
The inhabitants of old Jerusalem
Were Jebusites; the town so call'd from them;
And theirs the native right-

But when the chosen people grew more strong,
The rightful cause at length became the wrong;
And every loss the men of Jebus bore,
They still were thought God's enemies the more.
Thus worn or weaken'd, well or ill content,
Submit they must to David's government:
Impoverish'd and depriv'd of all command,
Their taxes doubled as they lost their land;
And what was harder yet to flesh and blood,
Their gods disgraced, and burnt like common
wood,

These Adam-roits, &c.] Persons discontented in happy circumstances are not unluckily called Adam wits, from a remembrance of Adam's weakness in Paradise, who, aiming at being happier than the happiest, by persuasion of Eve, eat of the forbidden fruit, and thereby forfeited the divine favour, and was excluded the garden of Eden. D.

This set the heathen priesthood in a flame
For priests of all religions are the same.
Of whatsoe'er descent their godhead be,
Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree,
In his defence his servants are as bold,
As if he had been born of beaten gold.
The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies,
In this conclude them honest men and wise:
For 't was their duty, all the learned think,
T
espouse his
cause, by whom they eat and
drink.
From hence began that plot, the nation's curse,
Bad in itself, but represented worse;
Rais'd in extremes, and in extremes decried;
With oaths affirm'd, with dying vows denied;
Not weigh'd nor winnow'd by the multitude;
But swallow'd in the mass, unchew'd and crude.
Some truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd
with lies,

To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.
Succeeding times did equal folly call,
Believing nothing, or believing all.
Th' Egyptian rites the Jebusites embrac'd;
Where gods were recommended by their taste.
Such savoury deities must needs be good,
As served at once for worship and for food.
By force they could not introduce these gods;
For ten to one in former days was odds.
So fraud was used, the sacrificer's trade:
Fools are more hard to conquer than persuade.
Their busy teachers mingled with the Jews,
And rak'd for converts even the court and
stews:

Which Hebrew priests the more unkindly took,
Because the fleece accompanies the flock.
Some thought they God's anointed meant to slay
By guns, invented since full many a day:
Our author swears it not; but who can know
How far the devil and Jebusites may go?
This plot, which fail'd for want of common

sense,

Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence:
For as when raging fevers boil the blood,
The standing lake soon floats into a flood,
And every hostile humour, which before
Slept quiet in its channels, bubbles o'er;
So several factions from this first ferment
Work up to foam, and threat the government.
Some by their friends, more by themselves

thought wise,

Oppos'd the power to which they could not rise. Some had in courts been great, and thrown

from thence,

Like fiends were harden'd in impenitence. Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown From pardon'd rebels kinsmen to the throne, Were rais'd in power and public office high Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie.