_Let those who call us Wicked, change their Sence,_ _For never Men liv'd more on Providence:_ _Not Lott'ry Cavaliers are half so poor,_ _Nor broken Cits, nor a Vacation Whore;_ _Not Courts, nor Courtiers living on the Rents_ _Of the three last ungiving Parliaments._ _So Wretched, that if_ Pharaoh _could Divine,_ } _He might have spar'd his Dream of seven lean Kine,_} _And chang'd the Vision for the Muses Nine._ } And a little after. _'Tis not our want of Wit that keeps us poor,_ _For then the Printer's Press would suffer more:_ _Their Pamphleteers their Venom daily spit,_ _They thrive by Treason, and we starve by Wit._ _Now I do not blame these Ingenuous Gentlemen for inveighing against the thing to which they owe their Ruin; nor were it to any purpose to endeavour to conceal a Truth so generally taken notice of: For who is Ignorant of this, that a Man, in all Professions, except that of Poetry, may with Honour advance a Livelihood? But that (though it may be sometimes found proper for the Divertisement of those few who have leisure to read it) was ever known to be most unprofitable to the Authors; for few or none have been Advanced by it, though many have been hindred by this Art of Versifying, from making their Fortune otherwise in the World. Yea, this Profession is grown so Vile and abject, that whereas others count it an Honour to be stiled Physicians, Barristers, or the like; these are offended with the very Name of Poet: And that with good Reason too, since Poetry only glories in Disguising the Truth; for which cause it begins to be Banished even from Theatres, to which alone it was Destinated; and Prose is now come in request, being prefer'd for its Gracefulness and Naturalness above it: By which means this Art is in danger to be confin'd to the Corners of Streets; to serve only for Songs and Ballads. Hence it was that_ Ovid _was so severely Punished by his Father, to make him leave off this Art, which proved so unlucky to him, that he became of a Rich_ Roman _Knight, a Miserable Exile among_ Barbarians. _Hence_ Plato _was pleased to Banish it out of his imaginary Common-Wealth. And_ Philip, _the first Christian Emperour, denied them those Immunities which he granted to all others. Numerous Instances of this Nature offer themselves to my Pen, but I must take care not to stretch my Epistle too far, for fear you should Reflect on it, what was formerly said on Sir_ William D'avenant's _Preface before his_ Gondibert, A Preface to no Book, a Porch to no House, Here is the Mountain, but where is the Mouse?