Were it not for the _Creed_, these _Poets_ would be crampt in their Courtship, and Mightily at a loss for a Simile! But _Osmin_ is in a wonderful Passion. And truly I think his Wits, are in some danger, as well as his Patience. You shall hear. _What are Wracks, and, Whips, and Wheels to this; Are they not soothing softness, sinking Ease, And wasting Air to this?_ _Sinking Ease, and Wasting Air_, I confess are strange comforts; This Comparison is somewhat oddly equip'd, but Lovers like sick People may say what they please! _Almeria_ takes this Speech for a Pattern, and suits it exactly in her return. _O I am struck, thy words are Bolts of Ice? Which shot into my Breast now melt and chill me._ _Bolts of Ice?_ Yes most certainly! For the Cold is struck up into her Head, as you may perceive by what follows. _I chatter, shake, and faint with thrilling Fears._ By the way 'tis a mighty wonder to hear a Woman Chatter! But there is no jesting, for the Lady is very bad. She won't be held up by any Means, but Crys out: ----_lower yet, down down_; One would think she was learning a Spanel to _Sett_. But there's something behind. ----_no more we'll lift our Eyes, But prone and dumb, Rot the firm Face of Earth, With Rivers of incessant scalding Rain._ These Figures are some of them as stiff as Statues, and put me in mind of _Sylvesters Dubartas_. _Now when the Winters keener breath began To Crystallize, the Baltick Ocean, To glaze the Lakes, to bridle up the Floods, And periwig with Snow the bald pate woods._ I take it, the other Verses are somewhat of Kin to These, and shall leave them to Mr. _Dryden's_ Reflection.[62] But then as for _Soothing Softness, Sinking Ease, Wasting Air, thrilling Fears, and incessant scalding Rain_; It puts me to another stand. For to talk a little in the way of the _Stage_. This Litter of _Epithetes_ makes the _Poem_ look like a Bitch overstock'd with Puppies, and sucks the Sence almost to skin and Bone. But all this may pass in a _Playhouse_: False Rhetorick and false Jewells, do well together. To return to _Euripides_. _Cassandra_ in reporting the Misfortunes of the _Greeks_ stops at the Adulteries of _Clytemnestra_ and _Ægiala_ And gives this handsome reason for making a Halt. [Greek: Sigan ameinon taischra, mêde mousa moi][63] [Greek: Genoit aoidos hêtis hymnêsei kaka.] _Foul Things are best unsaid, I am for no Muse, That loves to flourish on Debauchery._