edal" is entitled
"The Medal of John Bayes:" it appeared in autumn 1681, and is
distinguished by scurrility, even among the scurrilous lampoons of
Settle, Care, and Pordage. Those, he coolly says, who know Dryden, know
there is not an untrue word spoke of him in the poem; although he is
there charged with the most gross and infamous crimes. Shadwell also
seems to have had a share in a lampoon, entitled "The Tory Poets," in
which both Dryden and Otway were grossly reviled.[21] On both occasions,
his satire was as clumsy as his overgrown person, and as brutally coarse
as his conversation: for Shadwell resembled Ben Jonson in his vulgar and
intemperate pleasures, as well as in his style of comedy and corpulence
of body.[22] Dryden seems to have thought, that such reiterated attacks,
from a contemporary of some eminence, whom he had once called friend,
merited a more severe castigation than could be administered in a
general satire. He therefore composed "Mac-Flecknoe, or a Satire on the
True Blue Protestant Poet, T.S., by the Author of Absalom and
Achitophel," which was published 4th October 1682. Richard Flecknoe,
from whom the piece takes its title, was so distinguished as a wretched
poet, that his name had become almost proverbial. Shadwell is
represented as the adopted son of this venerable monarch, who so long

"In prose and verse was owned without dispute,
Through all the realms of Nonsense absolute."

The solemn inauguration of Shadwell as his successor in this drowsy
kingdom, forms the plan of the poem; being the same which Pope
afterwards adopted on a broader canvas for his "Dunciad." The vices and
follies of Shadwell are not concealed, while the awkwardness of his
pretensions to poetical fame are held up to the keenest ridicule. In an
evil hour, leaving the composition of low comedy, in which he held an
honourable station, he adventured upon the composition of operas and
pastorals. On these the satirist falls without mercy; and ridicules, at
the same time, his pretensions to copy Ben Jonson:

"Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame,
By arrogating Jonson's hostile name;
Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise,
And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise.
Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part:
What share have we in nature or in art?
Where did his wit on learning fix a brand,
And rail at arts he did not understand?
Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein,
Or swept the dust i