T'inrich his Scenes, and furnish out a Play.
Tho' Art ne're taught him how to write by Rules,
Or borrow Learning from _Athenian_ Schools:
Yet He, with _Plautus_, could instruct and please,
And what requir'd long toil, perform with ease.
By inborn strength so _Theseus_ bent the Pine,
Which cost _the Robber_ many Years Design[2].

[2] _See Plutarch's Life of Theseus_.

Tho' sometimes rude, unpolish'd and undrest
His Sentence flows, more careless than the rest.
Yet, when his Muse, complying with his will,
Deigns with informing heat his Breast to fill,
Then hear him thunder in the Pompous strain
Of _Æschylus_, or sooth in _Ovid's_ vein.
I feel a Pity working in my Eyes,
When _Desdemona_ by _Othello_ dyes.
When I view _Brutus_ in his Dress appear;
I know not how to call him too severe.
His _rigid Vertue_ there attories for all,
And makes a Sacrifice of _Cæsar's_ Fall.

[_Cowley_.]

Nature work'd Wonders then; when _Shakespear_ dy'd
Her _Cowley_ rose, drest in her gaudy Pride.
So from great Ruins a new Life she calls,
And Builds an _Ovid[3]_ when a _Tully_ Falls.