Their outside made its only care,
And never look'd within.
Collier p. 97. Here, says he, the Poet tells ye Providence makes Mankind by halves, huddles up the Soul, and takes the least care of the better Moyety; this is direct blaspheming the Creation, and a Satyr upon God Almighty. Why, now this, I confess, is enough to provoke some heat in a fellow of my Constitution, to hear this Religious Raving; but yet it looks so like Oliver's Porter's in Bedlam, that I will be calm, and patiently holding up my hand, plead Not Guilty—to all of these objections. But first, pray why does he foyst in the word Mankind here to express the Female Sex, when t'other word is so much more proper. I did intend indeed a small Satyr upon Womankind, pursuant to Marcella's Character, and he has vary'd from that word, I suppose, to amuse the Reader—I'll give ye the whole Stanza.
Did coy Marcella own a Soul
As beauteous as her Eyes,
Her Judgment wou'd her Sence controul,
And teach her how to prize.
But Providence, that form'd the fair
In such a charming Skin,
Their outside made its only care,
And never look'd within.
I only rally a pretty coy wench here for her sullen ill nature, without any Satyr on the Deity, or any thing like it; for as to the Blasphemy, as he calls it, by naming the word Providence, 'tis generally intended in Lyrical Poetry for Goddess Nature, or Fortune, as Mr Vanbrooke notes; but never apply'd seriously to the true Deity, but only by Dr Crambo. How often have we this phrase in Poetry, Nature has made her Body charming; see her bright Eyes, the charming gifts of Nature, &c. making use still of the second cause instead of the first, which we yet know to be the original of all. And 'tis no more Blasphemy to say that Providence took more care of a perverse beautiful Womans Body than her Soul, than 'tis to say that the Sun made a gay Tulip flourish in a Garden to delight the Eye, not caring three-pence tho it never smelt so sweet as a Province rose.
But I have a Rigid Critick and a Severe Inquisitor to deal with—He will have a Satyr upon the true Deity, tho I intend nothing of it. And to go on, my next advance he says is to Droll upon the Resurrection; and to prove it, squirts out these two lines, which are pick'd out of twenty—which he thinks are fit for his purpose—
Ibid. Sleep and Indulge thy self with rest,
Nor dream thou e're shalt rise again.
Now you must know this Song was design'd a solemn piece of morality, and sung as a Requiem or Dirge at the Funeral of Ambrosio—A young Gentleman that dy'd for Love of the aforesaid Marcella—You shall have it all, that you may judge what Drolling is in't.