He shows you your loft honour to retrieve;

Our troops will fight, when once the fenate give.
Quit your cabals and factions, and in spite
Of Whig and Tory in this caufe unite.

One vote will their fend Anjou back to France;
There let the meteor end his airy dance :
Elfe to the Mantuan foil he may repair,
Ev'n abdicated gods were Latium's care,
At worst, he 'll find some Cornish borough here.

}

PROLOGUE

TO THЕ

MUSICK-MEETING IN YORK-BUILDINGS.

HERE mufick and more powerful beauties reign,

WHE

Who can fupport the pleasure, and the pain?

Here their foft magick thofe two Syrens try,

And if we liften, or but look, we die.

Why should we then the wondrous tales admire,

Of Orpheus' numbers, or Amphion's lyre;

Of walls erected by harmonious skill,

How mountains mov'd, and rapid ftreams stood still!
Behold this scene of beauty, and confess

The wonder greater, and the fiction lefs.
Like human victims here we ftand decreed

To worship thofe bright altars where we bleed.
Who braves his fate in fields, muft tremble here;
Triumphant Love more vaffals makes than Fear.

No

No faction homage to the fair denies ;
The right divine's apparent in their eyes.

That empire 's fix'd, that 's founded in defire;
Those flames, the vestals guard, can ne'er expire.

PROLOGUE

TO

THE CORNISH SQUIRE,

A

COMEDY.

age

WHO dares not plot in this good-natur'd
Each place is privileg'd except the stage;

There the dread phalanx of reformers come,
Sworn foes to wit, as Carthage was to Rome;
Their ears fo fanctify'd, no scenes can please,
But heavy hymns, or penfive homilies:
Truths, plainly told, their tender nature wound,
Young rakes muft, like old patriarchs, expound;
The painted punk the profelyte must play,
And bawds, like fille-devotes, procure and pray.
How nature is inverted! foon you'll fee
Senates unanimous, and fects agree,

Jews at extortion rail, and Monks at mystery.
Let characters be reprefented true,

An airy Sinner makes an aukward Prue.

With force and fitting freedom vice arraign;

Though pulpits flatter, let the ftage speak plain.

?

If Verres gripes the poor, or Nænius write,
Call that the robber, this the parasite.
Ne'er aim to make an eagle of an owl;
Cinna's a statesman; Sydrophel, a tool.
Our cenfurers with want of thought difpenfe,
But tremble at the hideous fin of sense.

Who would not fuch hard fate as ours bemoan,
Indicted for fome wit, and damnn'd for none?
But if, to-day, fome fcandal should appear,
Let thofe precife Tartuffs.bind o'er Moliere.
Poet, and Papift too, they 'll surely maul,
There's no indulgences at Hicks's-hall.
Gold only can their pious fpite allay,
They call none criminals that can but pay:
The heedlefs fhrines with victims they invoke,
They take the fat, and give the gods the smoke.

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE

QUEEN'S THEATRE IN THE HAY-MARKET.

UCH was our builder's art, that, foon as nam'd,

SUCH

This fabrick, like the infant-world, was fram'd.

The architect must on dull order wait,

But 'tis the Poet only can create.

None elfe, at pleasure, can duration give:

When marble fails, the Mules' Aructures live.

The

The Cyprian fane is now no longer feen,
Though facred to the name of love's fair queen.
Ev'n Athens fcarce in pompous ruin ftands,
Though finifh'd by the learn'd Minerva's hands.
More fure prefages from these walls we find,
By Beauty founded, and by Wit defign'd.

The

merry

*

In the good age of ghoftly ignorance,
How did cathedrals rife, and zeal advance !
monks faid orifons at ease,
Large were their meals, and light their penances;
Pardons for fins were purchas'd with estates,
And none but rogues in rags dy'd reprobates.
But, now that pious pageantry 's no more,
And ftages thrive, as churches did before;
Your own magnificence you here furvey,
Majestic columns ftand, where dunghills lay,
And carrs triumphal rife from carts of hay.
Swains here are taught to hope, and nymphs to fear,
And big Almanzor's fight mocks Blenheim's here.
Defcending goddeffes adorn our scenes,

And quit their bright abodes for gilt machines.
Should Jove, for this fair circle, leave his throne,
He'd meet a lightning fiercer than his own.
Though to the fun his towering eagles rife,
They fcarce could bear the luftre of these eyes.

*

Lady Sunderland.

EPI

I 4

EPILOGUE

WH

TO THE

TRAGEDY OF CATO.

"HAT odd fantastic things we women do!
Who would not liften when young lovers woo?
What! die a maid, yet have the choice of two!
Ladies are often cruel to their coft:

To give you pain, themselves they punish moft.
Vows of virginity should well be weigh'd;

Too oft' they 're cancel'd, though in convents made.
Would you revenge such rash resolves ·

you may

Be fpiteful and believe the thing we say;
We hate you, when you 're easily said nay.
How needlefs, if you knew us, were your fears!
Let Love have eyes, and Beauty will have ears.
Our hearts are form'd, as you yourselves would choose,
Too proud to afk, too humble to refuse:

We give to merit, and to wealth we fell;
He fighs with most fuccefs that fettles well.
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix;
'Tis beft repenting in a coach and fix.
Blame not our conduct, fince we but pursue
Those lively leffons we have learn'd from you:
Your breafts no more the fire of beauty warms,
But wicked wealth ufurps the power of charms.
What pains to get the gaudy thing you hate,
To fwell in fhow, and be a wretch in state!

At