Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Vol. 3
All ?y to Twit'nam, and in humble strain Apply to me to keep them mad or vain. Arthur,3 whose giddy son neglects the laws, Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife e10pe, And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. Friend to my life!(which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song) What drop or nostrum can this plague remove? Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love? A'dire dilemma either way I'm sped If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead. Seiz'd and tied down to judge, how wretched 1! Who can't be silent, and who will not lie. To laugh were want of goodness and of grace, And to be grave exceeds all power or face. I sit with sad civility, I read With honest anguish and an aching head, And drop at last, but in unwilling ears, This saving counsel, Keep your piece nine years. Nine years cries he, who, high in Drury Lane, Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane, Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before term ends, Oblig'd by hunger and request of friends The piece, you think, is incorrect? Why, take it, I'm all submission: what you'd have it - make it. Three things another's modest wishes bound, My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.
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