I return'd into my Closet, or rather my Den of Dulness, for the Retreat of such a Student deserves not the Name of a Study. Here I cast mine Eyes on a very fine Epistle in Verse from my Friends at Cambridge; whereupon I sat me down to answer it, which was to dissuade them from Poetry, notwithstanding their great Genius towards it, express'd even in that Epistle. Which Answer be pleas'd to take as follows.
Let us but have their Company, and we
If I'm displeas'd, still thou art kind;
Wicked Song! said I; and wicked Wretch that sings it; in which she curses the Lord's Anointed, and all his Adherents, the Church and all her Children. Graceless Woman! that dares lift up Hands, Eyes, and Voice to Heaven with such Maledictions! But sure, it is her Ignorance; Nobody can be so designedly wicked. Happy had such been to have died in their Infancy, before the Baptismal Water was dry'd off their Face! But, ah! if I think on that, who is there so Righteous, but that they may wish they had dyed in the State of Innocency?
Thus we by Doubts, & Hopes, & Fears, are tost,