In vain they strove wild Passions to reclaim,
Uncertain what they were, or whence they came.
But you, who have found out their certain Source,
May with a happier Hand divert their Course.
Themselves so little did those Sages know,
That to their Failings We their Learning owe.
Their Vanity first caus’d ’em to aspire,
And with fierce Wranglings set all Greece on Fire: Thus into sects they split the Grecian youth, Contending more for Victory than Truth. Your Speculations nobler Ends persue, They aim not to be Popular, but true. You with strict Justice in an equal Light, Expose both Wit and Folly to our Sight. Yet as the Bee secure on Poyson feeds, Extracting Honey from the rankest Weeds: So safely you in Fools Instructours find, And Wisdom in the Follies of mankind.
With purer Waves henceforth shall Satyr flow,
And we this change to your chast Labours owe;
Satyr before from a Polluted Source
Brought Native Filth, augmented in its course.
No longer muddy shall those Streams appear,
Which you have purg‘d, and made so sweet, and clear.
Well may you Wit to us a wonder seem,
So strong’s the Current, yet so clear the stream,
Deep, but not Dull, thro’ each transparent Line
We see the Gems, which at the Bottom shine.
To your Correction freely we submit,
Who teach us Modesty as well as Wit.
Our Sex with Blushes must your Conquest own,
While yours prepare the Garlands you have won.
Your Fame secure long as your Sex shall last,
Nor Time, nor Envy shall your Lawrels blast.
James Drake.
To Madam — on the Occasion of her Essay, in Defence of her Sex.
Ican’t but smile at the Fantastick Malice of some, that love me not, for their Spightful clamor has effected that, which the kind Insinuations of some of my mistaken Friends, in vain attempted, and fixt upon me an honour, and upon themselves Characters, they wou’d be glad to claw off again, tho’ at the expence of their Skins. Caprice, and Humour have indeed a great share in the Movements, even of the wisest of Mankind, but I never met before with such a frollicksome piece of Malice, as to slander a Man into Reputation.
I’m none of the first, that have shin’d by the lustre of another’s worth, and valu’d themselves upon’t too: But I believe, Madam, you find but few Precedents of Men, that have taken so much pains to undeceive the World to their own disadvantage. I have known Men (and so I fancy have you too) and those of no mean Reputation, that have affected to look grave and compos’d at the Repetition of another Man’s Jest, that it might be taken for their own; and, to say truth, if the World will mistake Men for greater, or Wiser, than they are, there are few that have Ingenuity enough not to help on the Cheat. Your Conduct, Madam, is very different, You conquer without triumphing and like a generous Enemy scorn to insult o’re those you vanquish. You leave the Spoil to such as S—n,[*] you are contented with Victory, they, like peasants after the rout, of an Army, come in only to do the Butcherly Execution. Yet thus to keep your self conceal’d, and refuse the Honour, is a strain beyond the Gallantry of Romance; there the Knight, tho’ he atchieves Incognito, always lifts up his Beaver to receive the Favour, and the Complement. But you, like your Laurels, affect the Shade, and, like the richest Jewels, are content to have your Lustre try’d in the Dark.
This Procedure of Yours, Madam, essentially distinguishes your Character from that of some, that malign it. They are so unwilling to acknowledge themselves defeated by you, that they endeavour to force the Honour, tho’ unmerited, upon me, and extreamly regretted by them; and disdain a chastisement from a Female Hand, tho’ too weak to oppose it. You draw too well, to have occasion to write under your Pieces: for there is scarce an Eminent Fool in Town, but owns his Picture. Yet so far are they from mending for your smart correction, (so much Solomon is wiser than Mr. Dryden) so far from profiting by the Modesty of your Example, that instead of suppressing their names to what they write, they are ready upon all occasions to put ’em to what others write. Not a French Journal, Mercure, Farce, or Opéra can scape their pillaging, so violently they affect the Reputation of Wits. Yet the utmost they arrive at, is but a sort of Jack a Lanthorn Wit, that like the Sunshine with wanton Boys with Fragments of Looking Glass reflect in Men’s Eyes, dazles the Weak-sighted, and troubles the strong. These are the Muses Black Guard, that, like those of our Camps, tho’ they have no share in the danger, or Honour, yet have the greatest in the Plunder, that indifferently strip all that lie before ’em, dead or alive, Friends or Enemies. A stray Horse is safer in the Spanish Quarters, than an Anonymous Piece, Scene, or Line among them, and they are as unrefunding as a cast Mistress, and as unacknowledging as a Dutch Tradesman. Whatever they light on is Terra Incognita, and they claim the right of discoverers, that is, or giving their Names to it. They, like the Parson and Clark, are the common Godfathers, and answer frequently what the true Parents are asham’d to own: They fancy they make a Splendid figure in print, but like the Phosphorus (which the Chymists extract from fermented Ordure) with all their glimmerling, and sham fire, they retain the Scent (pardon the homeliness of the expression, Madam,) of the Original, Sir Reverence. These Fellows are in their Humours something a-kin to one (that I once knew) who never met a Man very drunk in an Evening, but he led him to his own Door to discharge, that he might in the morning have the Credit of his Debauchery; so these will scarce suffer any one Scribler to enjoy undisputed the Scandal of his own Nonsense.
Methinks, Madam, I begin to find the Ambition of an Author creeping upon me, and to feel (like some greater Men than my self) a strange itching to forfeit, by something of my own production, the Reputation I have got by yours. This thing call’d Reputation, Madam, is a very unaccountable thing, and baffles a very celebrated Axiom, or two of the Schools; for both they give, and they lose it, who never had, nor ever shall have any, like prodigal young Heirs, that spend their Estates before they come at ’em.
I perceive, Madam, after this way of digressing, it were easier to tire your patience than my own; for nothing is more natural (to me at least) than to forget the Design we first act upon, and write as incoherently as we talk: But whatever that were, I shall spare you that trouble at present, and only beg the continuance of your Friendship, which shall always be esteem’d an honour, by
Madam,
Your most humble, and
most oblig’d Servant,
J. D.^* Another Essay. Session of Poets 96, 6 Characters of a Beau, &c.
The Lady’s Answer.
HOwever impertinent the unjust Aspersions of those that envie you, may appear to your self, and others; yet methinks, there is a sort of Generosity in it, that makes ’em deny me Justice with a Complement: If they will not suffer me to own my Triffle, I am at least oblig’d to ’em, that in ascribing it to you, they confess it deserves a better Author. I am far from imagining, that this was intended as a Civility to me, which was indeed design’d as an Injury to you: But it has laid fresh Obligations upon me, since it