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PROLOGUE

то

IR EN E.

E glitt'ring Train! whom Lace and Velvet blefs,

YE

Sufpend the foft Sollicitudes of Drefs;
From grov❜ling Business and superfluous Care,
Ye Sons of Avarice! a Moment spare:
Vot'ries of Fame and Worshippers of Pow'r!
Difmifs the pleasing Phantoms for an Hour.
Our daring Bard, with Spirit unconfin'd,
Spreads wide the mighty Moral for Mankind.
Learn here how Heav'n fupports the virtuous Mind,
Daring, tho' calm; and vigorous, tho' refign'd.
Learn here what Anguifh racks the guilty Breast,
In Pow'r dependent, in Success depreft.

Learn here that Peace from Innocence must flow;
All elfe is empty Sound, and idle Show.

If Truths like these with pleasing Language join; Ennobled, yet unchang'd, if Nature fhine: If no wild Draught depart from Reason's Rules, Nor Gods his Heroes, nor his Lovers Fools: Intriguing Wits! his artless Plot forgive; And fpare him, Beauties! tho' his Lovers live.

Be this at leaft his Praife; be this his Pride; To force Applause no modern Arts are try'd. Shou'd partial Cat-calls all his Hopes confound; He bids no Trumpet quell the fatal Sound. Shou'd welcome Sleep relieve the weary Wit, He rolls no Thunders o'er the drowsy Pit,

No

No Snares to captivate the Judgment spreads;
Nor bribes your Eyes to prejudice your Heads.
Unmov'd tho' Witlings fneer and Rivals rail:
Studious to please, yet not afham'd to fail.
He fcorns the meek Addrefs, the fuppliant Strain,
With Merit needlefs, and without it vain.
In Reason, Nature, Truth he dares to truft;
Ye Fops be filent! and ye Wits be just!

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PROLOG

SPOKEN BY

GUE

Mr. GARRICK,

Thurfday, April 5, 1750,

At the REPRESENTATION of

COM US,

For the Benefit of Mrs. ELIZABETH FOSTER, MILTON'S Grand-daughter, and only furviving Defcendant.

Y

E patriot Crouds, who burn for England's Fame,
Ye Nymphs, whofe Bofom's beat at Milton's
Name,

Whofe gen'rous Zeal, unbought by flatt'ring Rhimes,
Shames the mean Penfions of Auguftan Times;
Immortal Patrons of fucceeding Days,
Attend this Prelude of perpetual Praise!
Let Wit, condemn'd the feeble War to wage
With close Malevolence, or public Rage;
Let Study, worn with Virtue's fruitlefs Lore,
Behold this Theatre, and grieve no more.
This Night, diftinguish'd by your Smile, shall tell
That never Briton can in vain excel;
The flighted Arts Futurity fhall truft,
And rifing Ages haften to be juft.

At length our mighty Bard's victorious Lays
Fill the loud Voice of univerfal Praise,

And baffled Spite, with hopeless Anguish dumb,
Yields to Renown the Centuries to come.

With ardent Hafte each Candidate of Fame
Ambitious catches at his tow'ring Name:
He fees, and pitying fees, vain Wealth bestow
Thofe pageant Honours which he fcorn'd below:
While Crowds aloft the laureat Buft behold,
Or trace his Form on circulating Gold,
Unknown, unheeded, long his Offspring lay,
And Want hung threat'ning o'er her flow Decay.
'What tho' fhe fhine with no Miltonian Fire,
No fav'ring Mufe her Morning Dreams infpire;
Yet fofter Claims the melting Heart engage,
Her Youth laborious, and her blameless Age:
Hers the mild Merits of domestic Life,
The patient Suff'rer, and the faithful Wife.
Thus grac'd with humble Virtue's native Charms,
Her Grandfire leaves her in Britannia's Arms,
Secure with Peace, with Competence, to dwell,
While tutelary Nations guard her Cell.

Yours is the Charge, ye Fair, ye Wife, ye Brave! 'Tis yours to crown Defert-beyond the Grave!

PRO

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P

REST by the Load of Life, the weary Mind
Surveys the general Toil of Human-kind ;
With cool Submiflion joins the labouring Train,
And focial Sorrow, lofes half its Pain:

Our anxious Bard, without Complaint, may fhare
This bustling Seafon's epidemic Care.
Like Cæfar's Pilot, dignify'd by Fate,

Toft in one common Storm with all the Great ;
Diftreft alike, the Statesman and the Wit,

When one a Borough courts, and one the Pit.
The bufy Candidates for Power and Fame,

Have Hopes and Fears, and Wishes, just the same ;
Difabled both to combat, or to fly,

Must hear all Taunts, and hear without Reply,
Uncheck'd on both, loud Rabbles vent their Rage,
As Mongrels bay the Lion in a Cage.

Th' offended Burgefs hoards his angry Tale

For that bleft Year when all that vote may rail;

5

Their

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