RECITATIVE.

Mifs Cro. Colonel, de tout mon cœur-I've one in petto,
Which you shall join, and make it a Duetto.

RECITATIVE.

Ld. Min. Bella Signora, et Amico mio!

I too will join, and then we'll make a Trio.
Col. T. Come all and join the full-mouth'd Chorus,
And drive all Tragedy and Comedy before us.

All the company rife, and advance to the front of the flage.

Col. 7. Would you ever go to fee a Tragedy?

Mifs Cro. Never, never.

Col. T. A Comedy?

T

PROLOGUE to the DOUBLE MISTAKE,

Spoken by Mr. SMITH.

O lead attention thro' five acts of profe,

Where to foft notes no tuneful couplet flows;
To please each heart, each judgment, eye and ear,
The attempt how bold! the labour how fevere!
Thus I addrefs'd our bard, who quick reply'd,
With honeft diffidence and modeft pride:
"If I fhould fail, I fhall not think it fhame

"To mifs, what few have gain'd, the wreath of Fame.
"This fpot I deem the public treasury,

"Where wits, rare coins, for general service lie; Where Critics, ftri& examiners, are plac'd

"To try each piece by that nice standard, Tafte; "And what to public ufe may be apply'd,

Is juftly fav'd, what faulty thrown afide.

"Hence,

"Hence, 'tis the Poet's duty to difpenfe "Each various vein of humour, wit, or sense; "Not, mifer like, to his own board confine "The smallest fpark of Nature's genuine mine; "But to the mufe his graceful tribute pay, "And in the common mint his quota lay." On this refolve, he to your sterling store Prefents a fpecimen of untry'd ore; If any worth it bears, affay'd by you, His private talent is the public due; And fhould it not difgrace your brilliant mafs, Give it your stamp, and let the metal país.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mifs WILFORD, in the character of Lady LOUISA.

I

HAD an Epilogue to speak to-night;

But I'm fo hurried, put in fuch a fright,
Deuce take me! if I ha'nt forgot it quite.
To fee my name in first night's play-bill printed,
A character quite new, in time quite ftinted;
An Epilogue, befides, to get by heart,
'Tis moft unmerciful, too long a part-
But they fo coax'd and wheedled me to duty,
Left I should fret--for fretting fpoils one's beauty,-
That, in obedience to the kind command,

A fuppliant to your favour here 1 stand;
And hope, inftead of what had been prepar'd,
Some nonfenfe of my own may now be heard.
Well! I have had a great escape I own,
From being made the jeft of all the town;
For from the court-end I could claim no pity,
Nor had I more to hope for from the city;
Such matches rarely anfwer either fide,
For industry is fuited ill with pride.

But, to divert your cenfure, let me shew

A folly more complete, a city-beau!

What contraft can there be fo ftrong in nature,
As English plainnefs apeing Petit-maitre
And yet, poor I, by miffing fuch a lover,
May wait till all my dancing days are over!
Next fhift the scene-behold a virtuofo!
An old, illiterate, feeble Amorofo !
What weakness can the human heart discover,
More fhameful than a climacteric lover?

Men

Men who have turn'd the period of three-fcore,
Become mere Virtuofo's-in amour.

Nor does aunt Bridget merit better quarter,
Who fcorning to abide by female charter,
Invades a province to our fex deny'd,
Aiming at knowledge with a pedant's pride;
When, after all our boaft, we find, at length,
To know our weakness is our fureft ftrength.
One path of fcience only, wife men say,
Is left for female learning to obey.

If characters like these your mirth excite,
And furnish fome amufements for the night,
If nought offend the maxims of the stage,
Or fhock the nicer morals of the age,
If only venial errors here you find,
Critics, be dumb-ye men of candour kind.

[Courtlying

For young Alexis figh'd and preft,
With fuch bewitching power,
I quite forgot the withing gueft,
That waited in the bower.

The ANT and CATERPILLAR.

A FABLE.

By J. CUNNINGHAM.

S an ant, of his talents fuperiorly vain,

Was trotting with confequence over the plain,

A worm, in his progrefs, remarkably flow,

Cry'd, "Blefs your good worfhip where ever you go!
"I hope your great mightinefs won't take it ill,
"I pay my refpects from an hearty good will."

With a look of contempt, and ineffable pride,

Begone, you vile reptile, his antship reply'd: "Go, go, and lament your contempuble state: "But first-look at me-fee--my limbs how complete: "I guide all my motions with freedom and eate; "I run back and forward, and turn when I pleafe. "Of nature (grown weary) thou flocking eflay!

I fpurn you thus from me:-crawl out of my way."

The reptile infulted, and vex'd to the foul,
Crept onwards, and hid himself clofe in his hole;
But nature, determin'd to end his distress,
Soon fent him abroad in a butterfly drefs.

Ere long the proud ant was repaffing the road,
(Fatigu'd from the harveft, and tugging his load)
The beau on a violet bank he beheld,

Whofe vefture, in glory, a monarch's excell'd;
His plumage expanded! 'twas rare to behold
So lovely a mixture of purple and gold!
The ant, quite amaz'd at a figure fo gay,
Bow'd low with refpect, and was trudging away:

"Stop, friend," fays the butterfly, " don't be furpriz'da
"I once was the reptile you fpurn'd and despis'd;
"But now I can mount-in.the fun-beams I play,
While you muft, forever, drudge on in your way?
MORAL.

A wretch that to-day is o'erloaded with forrow,
May foar above those that opprefs'd him to-morrow.

CONTENT:

'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren and bare,

OF

As wilder'd and weary'd I roam,

A gentle young fhepherdefs fees my defpair,

And leads me-o'er lawns-to her home.

Yellow fheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crown'd,
Green rushes were ftrew'd on her floor,

Her cafement fweet woodbines crept wantonly round,
And deck'd the fod feats at her door.

II.

We fat ourselves down to a cooling repaft:
Fresh fruits; and the cull'd me the beft:

While, thrown from my guard by fome glances she caft,
Love flyly ftole into my breaft!

I told my foft wishes; the fweetly reply'd,

(Ye virgins, her voice was divine;)

I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny'd,
But take me, fond fhepherd-I'm thine.

III.

Her air was lo modeft, her aspect lo meek!
So fimple, yet fweet, were her charms!
I kifs'd the ripe rofes that glow'd on her cheek,
And lock'd the lov'd maid in my arms.
Now jocund together we tend a few fheep,
And if, by yon prattler, the ftream,
Reclin'd on her bofom, I fink into fleep,
Her image ftill foftens my dream.

IV.

Together we range o'er the flow rifing hills,
Delighted with paftoral views,

Or rest on the rock whence the streamlet diftils,
And point out new themes for my mufe.
To pomp or proud titles the ne'er did aspire,
The damfel's of humble defcent;

The cottager, Peace, is well known for her fire,
And shepherds have nam'd her Content.

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