But, like good Tradesmen, what’s in fashion vent,
And cozen you, to give ye all content.
True Comedy, writ even in Dryden’s Style,
Will hardly raise your Humours to a Smile.
Long did his Sovereign Muse the Scepter sway,
And long with Joy you did true Homage pay:
But now, like happy States, luxurious grown,
The Monarch Wit unjustly you dethrone,
And a Tyrannick Commonwealth prefer,
Where each small Wit starts up and claims his share;