When first you took us from our father's house,
And lovingly our intereft did efprufe,
You kept us fine, carefs'd, and lodg'd us here,
And honey moon held out above three year;
At length, for pleafures known do feldom last,
Frequent enjoyment pall'd your fprightly tafte;
And though at first you did not quite neglect,
We found your love was dwindled to refpect.
Sometimes, indeed, as in your way it fell,
You stopp'd, and call'd to fee if we were well.
Now, quite eftrang'd, this wretched place you fhun,
Like bad wine, bus'nefs, duels, and a dun.
Have we for this increas'd Apollo's race?
Been often pregnant with your wit's embrace?
And born you many chopping babes of grace?
Some ugly toads we had, and that's the curse.
They were fo like you, that you far'd the worse;
For this to-night, we are not much in pain,
Look on't and if you like it, entertain:
If all the midwife fays of it be true,
There are fome features too like fome of you:
For us, if you think firting to forfake it.
We mean to run away, and let the parish take it.

}

And scorn'd that any she should hold his back; But now, fo age and frailty have ordain'd,

4

By two at once he's forc'd to be fuftain'd,
You fee what failing nature brings man to;
And yet let none infult, for ought we know,
She may not wear fo well with fome of you.
Though old, yet find his ftrength is not clean
past,

But true as steel he's metal to the last.
If better he perform'd in days of yore,
Yet now he gives you all that's in his power;
What can the youngest of you all do more?

What he has been, though prefent praise be-
dumb,

Shall haply be a theme in times to come,
As now we talk of Rofcius, and of Rome.
Had you withheld your favours on this night,
Old Shakspeare's ghost had ris'n to do him
right.

With indignation had you feen him frown
Upon a worthlefs, witlefs, taftelefs town;
Griev'd and repining, you had heard him fay,
Why are the mufe's labours cait away?
Why did I write what only he could play?

But fince, like friends to wit, thus throng'd you meet,

Go on, and make the generous work complete:
Be true to merit, and still own his cause,

Find fomething for him more than bare applaufe.

In just remembrance of your pleasure paft,
Be kind, and give him a discharge at laft;
In
peace and cafe life's remuant let him wear,
And hang his confecrated bufkint there.

EPILOGUE

Spoken by Mrs. Barry, at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, April 7 1709, at her playing in “Love for Love” with Mrs. Bracegirdle, for the Benefit of Mr. Betterton.

As fome brave knight, who once with fpear and fhield

Had fought renown in many a well-fought field;
But now no more with facred fame infpir'd,
Was to a peaceful hermitage retir'd:
There, if by chance difaftrous tales he hears,
Of matrons wrongs, and captive virgins tears,
He feels foft pity urge his generous breast,
And vows once more to fuccour the diftrefs'd.
Buckled in mail, he fallies on the plain,
And turns him to the feats of arms again.

So wc, to former leagues of friendship true,
Have bid once more our peaceful homes adieu,
To aid old Thomas, and to pleasure you.

Something to cheer me up amidst my trance,
L'Eau de Bardè- -or comfortable Nauts* !
He thought he paid it off with being smart,
And, to be witty, cry'd he'd fend the heart.
I could have told his gravity, moreover
Were I our fex's fecrets to discover,
'Tis what we never look'd for in a lover.
Let but the bridegroom prudently provide
All other matters fitting for a bride,

So he make good the jewels and the jointure,
'To miss the heart does feldom disappoint her.
Faith, for the fashion hearts of late are made in,
They are the vileft baubles we can trade in.
Where are the tough brave Britons to be found,
With hearts of oak, fo much of old renown'd?
How many worthy gentlemen of late
Swore to be true to mother-church and state;
When their false hearts were fecretly maintaining
Yon trim king Pepin, at Avignon reigning ?
Shame on the canting crew of foul-infurers,
'The Tyburn tribe of fpeech-making Non-jurors;
Who, in new-fangled terms, old truths explain-
ing,

[ing.

Teach honest Englishmen, damn'd double-mean-
Oh! would you loft integrity restore,
And boast that faith your plain fore-fathers bore;
What furer pattern can you hope to find,
Than that dear pledge your monarch left behind:
See how his looks his honeft heart explain,
And fpeak the bicffings of his future reign!
In his each feature truth and candour trace,
And read plain-dealing written in his face.

PROLOGUE TO THE NON-JUROR:

A COMEDY. BY MR. CIBBER.

As it was aƐled at the The tre-Royal in Dury- ane,

1718.

SPOKEN BY MR. WILKS.

TO-NIGHT, ye Whigs and Tories, both be safe,
Nor hope at one another's coft to laugh.
We mean to foufe old Satan and the Pope;
They've no relations here, nor friends, we hope.
A tool of theirs fupplies the comic flage
With juft materials for fatiric rage:
Nor thick our colours may too ftrongly paint
The ftiff Non-juring feparation faint.
Good-breeding ne'er commands us to be civil
To those who give the nation to the devil;
Who at our fureft, beft foundation ftrike,
And hate our monarch and our church alike:
Our church-which, aw'd with reverential fear,
Scarcely the muse presumes to mention here.
Long may the thefe her worst of foes defy.
And lift her mitred head triumphant to the fky:
While theirs---but fatire filently difdains

To name, what lives not, but in madmen's brains.

Like bawds, each lurking paftor feeks the dark,

And fears the juftice's inquiring clerk.

i. c. Citron-water and good brandy.

The Prince of Wales, then profeut

In close back-rooms his routed flocks he rallies,
And reigns the patriarch of blind lanes and allies:
There fafe, he lets his thundering cenfures fly,
Unchriftens, damns us, gives our laws the lie,
And excommunicates three ftorics high.
Why, fince a land of liberty they hate,
Still will they linger in this free-born state?
Here, every hour, fresh, hateful objects rife,
Peace and profperity afflict their eyes;
With anguish, prince and people they furvey,
Their just obedience and his righteous fway.
Ship off, ye flaves, and feek fonie paffive land,
Where tyrants after your own hearts command.
To your Traufalpine master's rule refort,
And fill an empty abdicated court:
Turn your poffeffions here to ready rhino,
And buy ye lands and lordships at Urbino.

ONCE more the queen of love invades my breaft Late, with long eafe and peaceful pleasures bleft; Spare, fpare the wretch, that ftill has been thy flave,

And let my former fervice have

The merit to protect me to the grave.
Much am I chang'd from what I once have been,
When under Cynera, the good and fair,
With joy I did thy fetters wear,
Blefs'd in the gentle fway of an indulgent queen.
Stiff and unequal to the labour now,

With pain my neck beneath thy yoke I bow.
Why dost thou urge me ftill to bear? Oh! why
Doft thou not much rather fly

why}

To youthful breaits, to mirth and gaiety?
Go, bid thy fwans their gloffy wings expand,
And fwiftly through the yielding air
To Damon thee their goddess bear,
Worthy to be thy flave, and fit for thy command.
Noble, and graceful, witty, gay, and young,
Joy in his heart, love in his charming tongue.
Skill'd in a thousand foft prevailing arts,
With wondrous force the youth imparts
Thy power to unexperienc'd virgins' hearts.
Far fhall he ftretch the bounds of thy command;
And if thou fhalt his wifhes blefs,
Beyond his rivals with fuccefs,

In gold and marble fhall thy ftatues ftand.
Beneath the facred fhade of Odel's wood,
Or on the banks of Oufe's gentle flood,
With odorous beams a tempie he fhall raife,
For ever facred to thy praife,

[decays. Till the fair ftream, and wood, and love itfelf There while rich incenfe on thy altar burns,

Thy votaries, the nymphs and fwains,
In melting foft harmonious frains,

Mix'd with their fofter flutes, fhall tell their

There may't thou reign, while I forget to love;
No more falfe beauty fhall my paffion move;
Nor thall my fond believing heart be led,
By mutual vows and oaths betray'd,
To hope for truth from the protesting maid.
With love the fprightiy joys of wine are fled;
The roles too fhall wither now,

That us'd to fhade and crown my brow, And round my cheerful temples fragrant odours fhed.

But tell me, Cynthia, fay, bewitching fair,
What mean thefe fighs? why fteals this falling tear?
And when my ftruggling thoughts for paffage
Why did my tongue refufe to move; [strove,
Tell me, can this be any thig but love?
Still with the night my dreams my griefs renew,
Still he is prelent to my eyes,
And still in vain I, as she flies,

i

O'er woods, and plains, and feas, the fcornful maid pursue.

HORACE, BOOK I. EPIST. IV. IMITATED.
TO RICHARD THORNHILL, ESQ *.

THORNHILL, whom doubly to my heart commend,
The critic's art, and candour of a friend,
Say what thou doft in thy retirement find,
Worthy the labours of thy active mind';
Whether the tragic mufe infpires thy thought,
To emulate what moving Otway wrote;
Or whether to the covert of fome grove
Thou and thy thoughts do from the world re-

move,

Where to thyself thou all thofe rules doft fhow,
That good men ought to practile, or wife know.
For fure thy mafs of men is no dull clay,
But well-inform'd with the celeftial ray.
The bounteous gods, to thee completely kind,
In a fair frame inclos'd thy fairer mind;
And though they did profufely wealth beftow,
They gave thee the true ufe of wealth to know.
Could ev'n the nurse with for her darling boy
A happiness which thou doft not enjoy;
What can her fond ambition afk beyond
A foul by wisdom's nobleft precepts crown'd?
To this fair fpeech, and happy utterance join'd,
T'unlock the fecret treasures of the mind,
And make the blefling common to mankind.
On these let health and reputation wait,
The favour of the virtuous and the great:
A table cheerfully and cleanly fpread,
Stranger alike to riot and to need :

Such an estate as no extremes may know,
A free and juft difdain for all things elfe below.
Amidft uncertain hopes, and anxious cares,
Tumultuous ftrife, and miferable fears,
Prepare for all events thy constant breaft,
And let each day be to thee as thy last,

That morning's dawn will with new pleasure rife,
Whofe light fhall unexpected blefs thy eyes.

* Who fought the duel with Sir Cholmondley Deering.

1

From whom old stocks and ancestry began,
And worthily in long fucceffion ran;
The reverend fires with pleasure fhall we grect,
Attentive hear, while faithful they repeat
Full many a virtuous deed, and many a noble
feat.

There all thofe tender ties, which here below,
Or kindred, or more facred friendship know,
Firm, conftant, and unchangeable fhall grow.
Refin'd from paffion, and the dregs of sense,
A better, truer, dearer love from thence,
Its everlasting being fhall commence :
There, like their days, their joys fhall ne'er be
done,
[fun,
No night shall rife, to fhade heaven's glorious
But one eternal holiday go on.

How foolish was I to believe

She could doat on fo lowly a clown,
Or that her fond heart would not grieve,
To forfake the fine folk of the town?
To think that a beauty fo gay,

So kind and fo conftant would prove;
Or go clad like our maidens in grey,
Or live in a cottage on love?

What though I have skill to complain,

Though the mufes my temples have crown'd; What though, when they hear my soft strain, The virgins fit weeping around. Ah, Colin, thy hopes are in vain, Thy pipe and thy laurel refign; Thy falfe one inclines to a fwain,

Whose music is sweeter than thine.

And you, my companions fo dear, Who forrow to lee me betray'd, Whatever I fuffer, forbear,

Forbear to accuse the falfe maid,