of,

MY LORD,

Your Lordship's
Most humble, most obliged,
Most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.

Footnotes:
1. Sir Thomas Clifford, just then created Lord Clifford of Chudleigh,
and appointed Lord High Treasurer, was one of the six ministers,
the initials of whose names furnished the word _Cabal_, by which
their junto was distinguished. He was the most virtuous and honest
of the junto, but a Catholic; and, what was then synonymous, a warm
advocate for arbitrary power. He is said to have won his promotion
by advising the desperate measure of shutting the Exchequer in
1671, the hint of which he is said to have stolen from Shaftesbury.
This piece may have been undertaken by his command; for, even at
the very time of the triple alliance, he is reported to have said,
"For all this, we must have another Dutch war." Upon the defection
of Lord Shaftesbury from the court party, and the passing of the
test act, Lord Clifford resigned his office, retired to the
country, and died in September 1673, shortly after receiving this
dedication.

2. In this case, Dryden's praise, which did not always occur, survived
the temporary occasion. Even in a little satirical effusion, he
tells us,

Clifford was fierce and brave.

Clifford had been comptroller and treasurer of the household, and
one of the commissioners of the treasury; he had served in the
Dutch wars.

3. Alluding to Lord Clifford's resignation of an office he could not
hold without a change of religion.

PROLOGUE.

_This poem was written as far back as 1662, and was then termed a
Satire against the Dutch._

As needy gallants in the scriveners' hands,
Court the rich knave that gripes their mortgaged lands,
The first fat buck of all the season's sent,
And keeper takes no fee in compliment:
The dotage of some Englishmen is such
To fawn on those who ruin them--the Dutch.
They shall have all, rather than make a war
With those who of the same religion are.
The Straits, the Guinea trade, the herrings too,
Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.
Some are resolved not to find out the cheat,
But, cuckold like, love him who does the feat:
What injuries soe'er upon us fall,
Yet, still, The same religion, answers all:
Religion wheedled you to civil war,
Drew English blood, and