Or whate'er libel, for the public good, Stirs up the fhrove-tide crew to fire and blood, choose, Some scenes in fippets would be worth our time; Thofe would go down; fome love that's poach'd in rhyme ; If thefe fhould fail We must lie down, and, after all our coft, Keep holiday, like watermen in frost; While you turn players on the world's great flage, VOL. II. And a&t yourselves the farce of your own age. XII. EPILOGUE XII. EPILOGUE to a Tragedy called TAMERLANE. [By Mr. SAUNDERS.] LADIES, the beardless author of this day Commends to you the fortune of his play. A woman wit has often grac'd the stage; But he's the first boy-poet of our age. Early as is the year his fancies blow, Like young Narciffus peeping through the fnow. Thus Cowley blossom'd soon, yet flourish'd long This is as forward, and may prove as strong. Youth with the fair fhould always favour find, Or we are damn'd diffemblers of our kind. What's all this love they put into our parts? 'Tis but the pit-a-pat of two young hearts. Should hag and grey-beard make fuch tender moan, Faith, you'd ev'n trust them to themselves alone, And cry, Let's go, here's nothing to be done. Since Love 's our bufinefs, as 'tis your delight, The young, who best can practise, best can write. What though he be not come to his full power, He's mending and improving every hour. You fly fhe-jockies of the box and pit, Are pleas'd to find a hot unbroken wit : By management he may in time be made, But there's no hopes of an old batter'd jade; Faint and unnerv'd he runs into a fweat, And always fails you at the second heat. 7 XIII. PROLOGUE XIII. PROLOGUE to the UNIVERSITY of OXFORD, 1681. ΤΗ HE fam'd Italian Muse, whose rhymes advance Orlando, and the Paladins of France, Records, that, when our wit and sense is flown, 'Tis lodg'd within the circle of the moon, In earthen jars, which one, who thither foar'd, Set to his nofe, fnuff'd up, and was reftor'd, Whate'er the story be, the moral 's true; The wit we loft in town, we find in you. Our poets their fled parts may draw from hence, And fill their windy heads with fober fenfe. When London votes with Southwark's disagree, Here may they find their long-loft loyalty. Here bufy fenates, to th' old cause inclin'd, May fnuff the votes their fellows left behind: Your country neighbours, when their grain grows dear, May come, and find their laft provifion here: Whereas we cannot much lament our loss, Who neither carry'd back, nor brought one cross. We look'd what reprefentatives would bring ; But they help'd us, just as they did the king. Yet we defpair not; for we now lay forth The Sibyls books to those who know their worth; And though the firft was facrific'd before, Thefe volumes doubly will the price restore. Our poet bade us hope this grace to find, Here finding nothing that his fpleen can raife, XIV. PROLOGUE to his Royal Highness, upon his first IN N thofe cold regions which no fummers chear, Let Let them be firft to flatter in fuccefs; Duty can stay, but guilt has need to prefs; The friends of Job, who rail'd at him before, We grant, an o'ergrown Whig no grace can mend ; Are clouds, that tack according to the wind. O welcome to this much-offending land, The prince that brings forgiveness in his hand! } |