Having thus brought the account of our author's productions down to 1674, from which period we date a perceptible change in his taste and mode of composition, I have only to add, that his private situation was probably altered to the worse, by the burning of the King's Theatre, and the debts contracted in rebuilding it. The value of his share in that company must consequently have fallen far short of what it was originally. In other respects, he was probably nearly in the same condition as in 1672. The critics, who assailed his literary reputation, had hitherto spared his private character; and, excepting Rochester, whose malignity towards Dryden now began to display itself, he probably had not lost one person whom he had thought worthy to be called a friend. Lee, who seems first to have distinguished himself about 1672, was probably then added to the number of his intimates. Milton died shortly before the publication of the "State of Innocence;" and we may wish in vain to know his opinion of that piece; but if tradition can be trusted, he said, perhaps on that undertaking, that Dryden was a good rhymer, but no poet. Blount, who had signalised himself in Dryden's defence, was now added to the number of his friends. This gentleman dedicated his "_Religio Laici_" to Dryden in 1683, as his much-honoured friend; and the poet speaks of him with kindness and respect in 1696, three years after his unfortunate and violent catastrophe. Dryden was, however, soon to experience the mutability of the friendship of wits and courtiers. A period was speedily approaching, when the violence of political faction was to effect a breach between our author and many of those with whom he was now intimately connected; indeed, he was already entangled in the quarrels of the great, and sustained a severe personal outrage, in consequence of a quarrel with which he had little individual concern. FOOTNOTES: [1] In "Repartees between Cat and Puss at a caterwauling, in the modern heroic way:" "_Cat_. Forbear, foul ravisher, this rude address; Canst thou at once both injure and caress? _Puss_. Thou hast bewitched me with thy powerful charms, And I, by drawing blood, would cure my harms. _C_. He that does love would set his heart a tilt, Ere one drop of his lady's should be spilt. _P_. Your wounds are but without, and mine within: You wound my heart, and I but prick your skin; And while your eyes pierce deeper than my claws, You blame the effect of which you are the cause. _C_. How could my guiltless eyes your heart invade, Had it not first been by your own betrayed? Hence 'tis, my greatest crime has only been (Not in mine eyes, but yours) in being seen. _P_. I hurt to love, but do not love to hurt. _C_. That's worse than making cruelty a sport. _P_. Pain is the foil of pleasure and delight, That sets it off to a more noble height. _C_. He buys his pleasure at a rate too vain, That takes it up beforehand of his pain.