ed these scenes had been
preserved, since it may be that the very want of artifice, alleged by
the critics of the day, would have recommended them to our more simple
taste. We might at least have learned from them, whether Dryden, in his
first essay, leant to the heroic, or to the ancient English tragedy. But
the scene of Guise's return to Paris, is the only part of the original
sketch which Dryden thought fit to interweave with the play, as acted in
1682; and as that scene is rendered literally from Davila, upon the
principle that, in so remarkable an action, the poet was not at liberty
to change the words actually used by the persons interested, we only
learn from it, that the piece was composed in blank verse, not rhyme.

In the course of the year 1661-2, our author composed the "Wild
Gallant," which was acted about February 1662-3 without success. The
beautiful Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland,
extended her protection to the unfortunate performance, and received the
incense of the author; who boasts,

"Posterity will judge by my success,
I had the Grecian poet's happiness,
Who, waving plots, found out a better way,--
Some god descended, and preserved the play."

It was probably by the influence of this royal favourite, that the "Wild
Gallant" was more than once performed before Charles by his own command.
But the author, his piece, and his poetical compliment, were hardly
treated in a Session of the Poets, which appeared about 1670. Nor did
Sir Robert Howard, his associate, escape without his share of ridicule:

"Sir Robert Howard, called for over and over,
At length sent in Teague with a packet of news,
Wherein the sad knight, to his grief did discover
How Dryden had lately robbed him of his Muse.

Each man in the court was pleased with the theft,
Which made the whole family swear and rant,
Desiring, their Robin in the lurch being left,
The thief might be punished for his 'Wild Gallant.'

Dryden, who one would have thought had more wit,
The censure of every man did disdain,
Pleading some pitiful rhymes he had writ
In praise of the Countess of Castlemaine."

The play itself contained too many of those prize-fights of wit, as
Buckingham called them, in which the plot stood absolutely still, while
two of the characters were showing the audience their dexterity at
repartee. This error furnishes matter for a lively scene in the
"R