the year following. Of its success we know
nothing particular. It is probable, the flowing verse, into which some
part of the dialogue is thrown, with the strong point and antithesis,
which distinguishes Dryden's works, and particularly his argumentative
poetry, tended to redeem the credit of the author of the "Wild
Gallant."

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ROGER, EARL OF ORRERY[1].

[Footnote 1: This distinguished person was fifth son of Richard Boyle,
known by the title of the great Earl of Cork. His first title was Lord
Broghill, under which he distinguished himself in Ireland.
Cromwell, although his lordship was a noted royalist, and in actual
correspondence with the exiled monarch, had so much confidence in
his honour and talents, that he almost compelled him to act as lord
lieutenant of that kingdom, under the stipulation that he was to come
under no oaths, and only to act against the rebel Irish, then the
common enemy. He was instrumental in the restoration, and created earl
of Orrery by Charles II, in 1660, He deserved Dryden's panegyric in
every respect, except as a poet--the very character, however, in which
he is most complimented, and perhaps was best pleased to be so. He
wrote, 1st, The Art of War--2d, Parthenissa, a romance--3d, Some
Poems--4th; Eight Plays--5th, State Tracts.]

My Lord,

This worthless present was designed you long before it was a play;
when it was only a confused mass of thoughts, tumbling over one
another in the dark; when the fancy was yet in its first work,
moving the sleeping images of things towards the light, there to be
distinguished, and then either chosen or rejected by the judgment; it
was yours, my lord, before I could call it mine. And, I confess, in
that first tumult of my thoughts, there appeared a disorderly kind of
beauty in some of them, which gave me hope, something, worthy my lord
of Orrery, might be drawn from them: But I was then in that eagerness
of imagination, which, by overpleasing fanciful men, flatters them
into the danger of writing; so that, when I had moulded it into that
shape it now bears, I looked with such disgust upon it, that the
censures of our severest critics are charitable to what I thought
(and still think) of it myself: It is so far from me to believe this
perfect, that I am apt to conclude our best plays are scarcely so; for
the stage being the representation of the world, and the actions in
it, how can it be imagined, that the picture of huma