As we account those Books best written which mix Profit with Delight, so, in my opinion, none more profitable nor delightful than those of Lives, especially them of Poets, who have laid out themselves for the publick Good; and under the Notion of Fables, delivered unto us the highest Mysteries of Learning.  These are the Men who in their Heroick Poems have made mens Fames live to eternity; therefore it were pity (faith Plutarch) that those who write to Eternity, should not live so too.  Now above all Remembrances by which men have endeavoured even in despight of Death, to give unto their Fames eternity, for Worthiness and Continuance, Books, and Writings, have ever had the Preheminence; which made Ovid to give an endless Date to himself, and to his Metamorphosis, in these Words;

  Famque Opus exegi, &c.

Thus Englished by the incomparable Mr. Sandys.

And now the Work is ended, which Jove’s Rage, Nor Fire, nor Sword, shall raze, nor eating Age, Come when it will, my Death’s uncertain hour Which only of my Body hath a power; Yet shall my better Part transcend the Sky, And my immortal Name shall never dy: For wherefoe’re the Roman Eagles spread Their conquering Wings, I shall of all be read. And if we Prophets truly can divine, I in my living Fame shall ever shine.

With the same Confidence of Immortality, the Renowned Poet Horace thus concludes the Third Book of his Lyrick Poesie.

  Exegi Monumentum aere perennius.
  Regalique situ, &c.

A Monument than Brass more lasting, I, Than Princely Pyramids in site more high Have finished, which neither fretting Showrs, Nor blustring Winds, nor flight of Years, and Hours, Though numberless, can raze; I shall not die Wholly; nor shall my best part buried lie Within my Grave.

And Martial, Lib. 10.  Ep. 2. thus speaks of his Writings;

——­My Books are read in every place, And when Licinius, and Messala’s high Rich Marble Towers in ruin’d Dust shall lie, I shall be read, and Strangers every where, Shall to their farthest Homes my Verses bear.

Also Lucan, Lib. 9. of his own Verse, and Caesar’s Victory at Pharsalia, writeth thus;

O great and sacred Work of Poesie!  Thou freest from Fate, and giv’st Eternity To mortal Wights; but Caesar envy not Their living Names; if Roman Muses ought May promise thee, whilst Homer’s honoured, By future Times shalt Thou and I be read; No Age shall us with dark Oblivion stain, But our Pharsalia ever shall remain.

But this Ambition, or (give it a more moderate Title), Desire of Fame, is naturally addicted to most men; The Triumph of Miltiades would not let Themistocles