e break thy Chain that links together
The Fabrick of this Globe, and make a Chaos,
Like that within my Soul--

[Footnote: Collier, p. 68.]

_Now_, says the Doctor, keen as a Razor, _if she had call'd for a Chair,
instead of a Chaos, tripp'd off, and kept her folly to herself, the
woman had been wiser._ Calling for a Chair instead of a Chaos is an
extreme pretty Quibble truly--but if the Critick had let the Chair-men
have tripp'd off with her, instead of doing it herself as she sat in a
Chair, I'm sure the blunder had been sav'd, and I think he had exprest
himself a little wiser than he has--And come, now my hand's in, let's
parallel Mr _Dryden_ with our Reformer a little longer--_Church-men_
(says _Benducar_ in _Don Sebastian_,

Tho they Itch to govern all,
Are silly, woful awkward Politicians,
They make lame mischiefs, tho they meant it well.

[Footnote: Collier, p.104.]

So much the better_, says he, _for tis a sign they are not beaten to the
trade_--Oh, that's a mistake, Doctor, they may be beaten to the Trade,
and yet be bunglers--And proceeding:

_Their Interest is not finely drawn, and hid,_
_But Seams are coursely bungled up, and seen.

[Footnote: Ibid.]

_These Lines_, says he, _are an Illustration taken from a Taylor._ They
are so, but what Justice is it in him to lessen 'em, whose own flights
are ten times more ridiculous: For example, talking just before of
tumbling the Elements together, he says, _and since we have shewn our
skill of Vaulting on the High Ropes, a little Tumbling on the Stage
may not do amiss for variety_ [Footnote: Collier, p. 158.]. And now I
will refer my self to the severest Critick of his party, whether an
Illustration taken from a Taylor is not better than one taken from a
Vagabond Rope-dancer, or Tumbler, forty times over; but his sense and
way of Writing he thinks will infallibly overcome censure; not with
me I assure him, to confirm it I must remark him once more, and then
my digression shall end. He tells ye _Cleora_, in the Tragedy of
_Cleomenes_, _is not very charming, her part is to tell you_, her
Child suck'd to no purpose.

It pull'd and pull'd but now, but nothing came;
At last it drew so hard that the Blood follow'd,
And that red Milk I found upon its Lips,
Which made me swoon for fear.

[Footnote: Cleomenes.]

There, says he, is a description of sucking for ye: And then like
another Devil of a Joker runs on, truly _one would thi