In lines 1-28, Dryden evokes Augustus, the founder of the Roman empire, in

order to falsely convey to the reader that the poem will take for its subject
someone (literally) august and worthy of veneration (Augusta will be London
in the poem). However, he then identifies the place over which the ruler
presides: the realm of Nonsense. Flecknoe goes on to say, in the most
guileless and straightforward way, that his son Shadwell will be his heir
because he “most resembles” him (line 14). He then boasts that his son is
stupid, wars continually with wit, and “never deviates into sense” (line 20).

In lines 29-63, Flecknoe compares his son to other minor poets: Heywood and
Shirley. He calls his son “the last great prophet of tautology” (line 30), using
that aforementioned messianic imagery. “Tautology” means needless
repetition and redundancy, and is thus clearly an insult. Flecknoe depicts
himself as a coarsely clad figure with a lute heralding the coming of his son.
Shadwell’s passage to his coronation is described in a ludicrously ornate way,
“Swell’d with pride of thy celestial charge” (line 40). His father compares him
to Arion, an ancient Greek poet and musician who jumped overboard after
hearing of a plot to kill him but was saved by dolphins. Dryden makes two of
many references to Shadwell’s work, both in the line about Epsom blankets,
which is from The Virtuoso, and in reference to Psyche, the subject of one of
Shadwell’s opera librettos. Dryden also calls attention to contemporary places,
as Pissing-Alley (actually numerous sites in London), and Aston Hall, which is
not definitively identified but is assumed to be a place important to Dryden.
Finally, in these lines, Dryden uses the word “dull” to describe Shadwell, which
is one of the most ubiquitous terms used to skewer the poet. Shadwell “for
anointed dullness he was made” (line 63) and was deemed “Mature in dullness
from his tender years” (line 16). It is clearly one of Dryden’s most damning
insults.
In lines 64- 93, Flecknoe describes the part of town where the coronation will
take place. It is near the Barbican, a defensive wall in London that surrounds a
ruined Roman watchtower, and is in a notorious neighborhood filled with
prostitutes and subpar actors. According to Flecknoe, the great dramatists do
not come here, especially not Fletcher in his buskins (buskins were the high
boots worn by actors in Greek and Roman tragedies; thus, there are no great
tragedies performed here). This is a place where low drama thrives; it is a place
for simpkins (clowns) and clinches (puns). Critic Virginia Brackett notes, “This
nursery produces actors, and Dryden employs the contemporary association
of acting with prostitution, as the nursery is near the brothel. Scholars explain
that such imagery allows continuous contrast between the glorified past and a
debased present.” She adds that many of Dryden’s references “serve to
juxtapose the tawdry existence of the individuals who serve as targets of his
poem against that of the high values held by classic and 17th-century
laudatory writers… a heroic past has dissolved into a debased present, when
artists are wasting a once noble heritage.”

In lines 94-133, news of the coronation spreads and hacks and poetasters
(inferior poets) flock to the stage. One of Dryden’s most memorable images is
that of the streets lined with the “scatter’d limbs of mangled poets” (line 99)
leading to a throne constructed of “his own labors” (line 107). The entire
coronation is farcical, with the anointing oil replaced by ale and his solemn
proclamations including things such as “Ne’er to have peace with wit, nor
truce with sense” (line 117). The twelve owls at the end of the section refer to
stupidity, as wisdom is fleeing the site.

In lines 134-164, Flecknoe passes on his “filial dullness” (line 136) and offers, as
discussed above, a prophecy of his son’s reign. The religious overtones are
strong, as in line 144 when “all the people cry’d Amen.” Flecknoe references
the writings of George Etherege, and the characters Dorimant, Cully,
Cockwood, and Fopling are from his plays; Etherege was actually talented and
Dryden through Flecknoe is suggesting Shadwell is not. Dryden again calls
attention to Shadwell’s own works, as in “Let Virtuosos in five years be writ”
(line 149) and “thy hungry Epsom prose” (line 164).

In lines 164-217, Dryden continues conjuring up figures from Shadwell’s own

plays, as with Sur Formal. The comment about “Northern Dedications”
references Shadwell’s sycophantic flattery of William, Duke of Newcastle.
Flecknoe winds up his lengthy speech with comments about writing itself. He
is pleased that Shadwell will be duller than him and advises him not to even
try to be dull; rather, just trust in his natural proclivities. He should also not
bother to write plays or high literary forms and instead focus on the lesser
forms like acrostics, anagrams, and songs. Finally, like in Shadwell’s play, a
trapdoor opens below Flecknoe and he falls in. A wind (it is unknown if it is
normal wind, flatulence, or a draft from Hell) pushes up his cloak, which then
adorns his son. This is also what happens when the prophet Elijah’s mantle
falls on Elisha.
There a few general points with which we can conclude our analysis. The first
is that through criticizing Shadwell, Dryden promulgates certain things that, in
his opinion, make good art. He does not approve of how Shadwell conflates
the creator and the created, how his characters are mere self-portraits, how
Shadwell prefers comedy and the humors to real drama. Dryden insinuates
that Shadwell, as Brackett writes, “bows to outside [political] forces and
sacrifices his art.” Archer agrees, claiming, “the satire upholds canons of
neoclassic criticism. One perceives Dryden’s sense of a hierarchy of values in
the overall plan of the work… the all-important neoclassic standards of ‘nature’
and ‘art’ serve to condemn Shadwell’s unnatural railing at arts he does not
understand and his producing works that never rise to the level of art… the
ideals, with their opposites, are frequently repeated to enforce the neoclassic
insistence on lucid reasoning and felicitous expression in literature.”

Dryden is criticizing a great deal of the current theater climate by having

Flecknoe give what is essentially a performative (and, obviously, overblown
and tedious) speech on a stage. Critic Michael Alssid writes that Dryden’s
target of attack was “a conglomeration of terrible metrics and dramatic inanity
which marked the nadir of Shadwell’s art” but also made a good deal of
money. Similarly, Margery Kingsley notes how the stage and brothels are
conflated by their physical proximity, how there seems to be a Hell below the
Restoration-era stage. The area of London Shadwell presides over is ruins of a
greater civilization; the people who acclaim him are tawdry and self-absorbed.
John R. Clark sums it up well: “Any glories from the immemorial past have all
but vanished… the best [poem] that can be mustered in the now-fallen world
of Dryden’s satire is a defective and broken piece of poetry, a mock-epic. The
result is certainly amusing, but it is saddening, too…”

Summary
Lines 1-28
The play is narrated by the poet (Dryden) in the third-person perspective and
is introduced as “A Satire on the True-blue Protestant T.S.,” or Thomas
Shadwell.

The poet introduces Flecknoe, who like the Roman ruler Augustus, was called
to rule when he was young. He rules the peaceful realm of Nonsense now, but
is growing old and decides that Fate wants him to settle the business of the
State.
Flecknoe ponders which of his sons should succeed him in warring eternally
with wit. It will be the one who resembles him most: Shadwell, who even while
young in years is mature in dullness. He is “confirm’d in full stupidity” (line 18),
and while some of his brothers occasionally grasp meaning, he never has any
sense at all. Other people are illuminated by beams of wit, but Shadwell’s
“genuine night admits no ray” (line 23).

His “fogs” (line 24) clog up the day and his elaborate, histrionic clothing is
thoughtless like the thoughtless monarch oaks that solemnly rule over the
plain.

Lines 29-63
The proud father deems Shadwell “the last great prophet of tautology” (line
30), not dissimilar to Heywood and Shirley before him. As for Flecknoe, he
admits he is just a dunce who paved the way for Shadwell. When he warbled
with his lute for King John I of Portugal, he was merely preluding the day when
Shadwell would sail down the river Thames, puffed up and proud with his
royal task.

There has never been his like – it is as if a new Arion is sailing. Treble and bass
sound out, the name Shadwell resounds from Pissing-Alley and Aston Hall.
Little fishes surround the boat, clamoring as they would on morning toast.
St. Andre’s feet never kept equal time like this, nor did Shadwell’s
own Psyche. Like tautology they collapsed. The jealous Singleton forswears his
lute and sword, and will never act like Villerius again.
Flecknoe stops talking for a moment. He weeps for joy of his son, knowing
that Shadwell’s plays persuade “that for anointed dullness he was made” (line
63).
Lines 64-93
Near the walls of London (called Augusta) there once stood a barbican and a
watch tower, but now it is just a pile of ruins. There are brothel houses that
rise from the rubble; mother-strumpets keep court there. A nursery rises as a
birthplace for queens and future heroes; “unfledg’d actors learn to laugh and
cry” (line 76).

Great Fletcher will not wear his boots here, and neither will Jonson in his socks.
Simkin finds a nice reception, though, amid this “monument of vanish’d
minds” (line 82).

This is the well-known place where Flecknoe designs Shadwell’s throne. A long
time ago, Decker prophesied that a mighty prince shall rule this pile, a prince
“born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense” (line 89). The prince’s pen will
create misers, humorists, and hypocrites, as well as whole families of Raymond
and tribes of Bruce.

Lines 94-133
Empress Fame publishes the account of Shadwell’s name. Nations hearing of
him meet together. There are no Persian carpets lining the street, only
“scatter’d limbs of mangled poets” (line 99). Writers like Heywood, Shirley, and
Ogleby lay in the street, but it is mostly Shadwell that clogs it up.

Finally, the prince appears in all his majesty, sitting atop a throne of his labors.
Flecknoe compares Shadwell to Ascanius, son of Aeneas, who famously sat at
his father’s right hand and inherited the kingdom. Shadwell’s brows are like
thick fogs, and dullness swirls about his visage.
Shadwell swears he will maintain dullness until his death. He will never make
peace with wit and never sign a truce with sense.

The king, having made his own unction of ale, places a mug of it in his son’s
hand. He conveys the right to rule over his son who had, since a young age,
practiced the “righteous lore” (line 124). The king seems to consecrate his
son’s head, and at that very moment it is as if twelve owls fly off from his left
hand. This is reminiscent of Romulus’ expectation of rule from his observation
of twelve vultures.
The admiring crowd shouts acclamations.

Lines 134-163
Flecknoe, his forehead dewy with oblivion, shakes his head and scatters the
drops on his son. He stands there in a prophetic mood and declares that
Heaven shall bless his son and he shall reign from Ireland to Barbados; there
will be no end to his dominion and it will be greater than his father’s.

Flecknoe pauses to let the people cry “Amen!” He continues, proclaiming

admiringly that his son still advances in impudence and ignorance. Others can
learn success, but from Flecknoe, Shadwell has learned “pangs without birth,
and fruitless industry” (line 148).

No one will ever accuse Shadwell of “toil of wit” (line 150). Let the others, like
George who treads the stage, and his characters Dorimant, Cully, Fopling, and
Cockwood, try to charm audiences. Shadwell’s fools will always defend him
and his lack of sense. The others should try to imitate him and thus be not
mere copies but his own issue. All the men of wit ought to be full of Shadwell,
only differing in name. Care should be taken not to let someone like “alien”
(line 163) Sedley interject wit into prose.

Lines 164-217
Flecknoe tells Shadwell to trust in his own dull nature and when he does, Sir
Formal’s “oratory will be thine” (line 168) and he will help his quill. He hopes
no false friends seduce him by using Ben Jonson’s name; it is only his father
and Uncle Ogleby whom he should heed.
Flecknoe urges Shadwell to remember he is of his blood and Jonson has no
part there, for “What share have we in Nature or in Art?” (line 176). Jonson
never rails at wit he does not understand, does not have a Prince Nikander or
a Psyche, or promise a play and give a farce instead. On oily water he floats
while Shadwell sinks.

Flecknoe exhorts his son to remember that this is his place, his way; he gets to
add new humors to his plays and indulge in dullness. Shadwell may be a large,
bulky man with a huge belly, but his plays never bite or offend. Even though
his heart may have venom, it dies the moment it touches his Irish pen.
Shadwell’s genius does not lie in iambics but rather in simple anagrams. He
should not, Flecknoe counsels, worry about plays; instead, he should focus on
acrostics. In those he can be famous and torture words in thousands of ways.
If not those, then perhaps songs set to a lute.

As Flecknoe speaks, his words fall away because Bruce and Longvilspring their
trap: Flecknoe sinks down, leaving his robe behind, and born upward by
flatulence, the mantle settles on the son who possesses “double portion of his
father’s art” (line 217).