Classic Poem

Worthy Sir,
Manners, and Men, transcrib'd, Customes express'd,
The Rules, and Lawes Dramatique not transgress'd;
The Points of Place, and Time, observ'd, and hit;
The Words to Things, and Things to Persons fit;
The Persons constant to Themselves throughout;
The Machin turning free, not forc'd about;
As Wheeles by Wheeles, part mov'd, and urg'd by part;
And choyce Materials workt with choycer Art;
Those, though at last begg'd from long sweate & toyle,
Fruits of the Forge, the Anvil, and the File,
Snatch reverence from our Iudgements; and we doe
Admire those Raptures with new Raptures too.
But you, whose thoughts are Extasies; who know
No other Mold, but that you'le cast it so;
Who in an even web rich fancies twist,
Your selfe th' Apollo , to your selfe the Priest;
Whose first unvext conceptions do come forth,
Like Flowers with Kings Names, stampt with Native worth;
By Art unpurchas'd make the same things thought
Far greater when begot, than when they're Taught.
So the Ingenuous fountaine clearer flowes
And yet no food besides its owne spring knowes.
Others great gathering wits there are who like
Rude Scholers, steale this posture from Van Dike ,
That Hand, or eye from Titian , and doe than
Draw that a blemish was design'd a Man;
(As that which goes-in Spoyle and Theft, we see
For th' most part comes out Impropriety)
But here no small stolne parcells slily lurke,
Nor are your Tablets such Mosaique worke,
The web, and woofe are both your owne, the peece
One, and no sayling for the Art, or fleece,
All's from your Selfe, unchalleng'd All, All so,
That breathing Spices doe not freer flow.
No Thrifty spare, or Manage of dispence,
But things hurld out with Gracefull Negligence,
A Generous Carriage of unwrested Wit;
Expressions, like your Manners freely fit:
No Lines, that wracke the Reader with such guesse,
That some interpret Oracles with lesse
Your Writings are all Christall, such as doe
Please Critickes palates without Critickes too:
You have not what diverts some Men from sense,
Those two Mysterious things, Greeke and Pretence:
And happily you want those shadowes, where
Their Absence makes your Graces seeme more cleare.
Nor are you he, whose vow weares out a Quill
In writing to the Stage, and then sits still;
Or, as the Elephant breeds, (once in ten yeares,
And those ten yeares but once) with labour beares
A saecular play. But you goe on and show
Your veine is Rich, and full, and can still flow;
That this doth open, not exhaust your store,
And you can give yet two, and yet two more,
Those great eruptions of your beames do say,
When others Sunnes are set, you'le have a Day.
And if Mens approbations be not Lot,
And my prophetique Bayes seduce me not;
Whiles he, who straines for swelling scenes, lyes dead
Or onely prays'd, you shall live prays'd, and read.
Thus, trusting to your selfe, you Raigne; and doe
Prescribe to others, because none to you.