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Verbatim from BOILEAU.

Un Jour dit un Auteur, etc.

NCE (fays our Author, where I need no: fay)
Two Trav❜lers found an Oyster in their way;
Both fierce, both hungry; the difpute grew ftrong,
While Scale in hand Dame Justice paft along.
Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws,
Explain'd the matter and would win the cause.
Dame Juftice weighing long the doubtful Right,
Takes, opens, fwallows it, before their fight.
The caufe of ftrife remov'd fo rarely well,

There take (fays Juice) take ye each a Shell.
We thrive at Westminster on Fools like you:
"Twas a fat Oifter---Live in peace---Adieu.

ANSWER to the following Question of Mrs. HowE.

HAT IS PRUDERY

WHAT

'Tis a Beldam,

Seen with Wit and Beauty feldom.
"Tis a fear that starts at shadows.
"Tis, (no, 'tisn't) like Mifs Meadows.
'Tis a Virgin hard of Feature,
Old, and void of all good nature;
Lean and fretful; would feem wife;
Yet plays the fool before the dies.
"Tis an ugly envious Shrew,

That rails at dear Lepell and You.

Occafioned by fome Verses of his Grace the Duke of BUCKING

HAM.

M

USE, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live, for Buckingham com-

mends.

Let Crowds of Critics now my verse affail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail:

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This more than pays whole years of thankless pain,
Time, health, and fortune are not loft in vain.
Sheffield approves, confenting Phoebus bends,
And I and Malice from this hour are friends.

A

PROLOGUE

By Mr. POPE,

To a Play for Mr. DENNIS's Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great Diftrefs, a little before his Death.

As

S when that Hero, who in each Campaign,

Had brav'd the Goth, and many a Vandal
flain,

Lay Fortune-ftruck, a fpectacle of Woe!
Wept by each Friend, forgiv'n by ev'ry Foe:
Was there a gen'rous, a reflecting mind,
But pitied BELISARIUS old and blind?

5

VER. 6. But pitied Belifarius, etc.] Nothing could be more happily imagined than this allufion, or finelier conducted. And the continued pleasantry so delicately touched, that it took no thing from the self satisfaction the Critic, who heard it, had in Kis merit, or the Audience in their charity. With fo mafterly

Was there a Chief but melted at the Sight?
A common Soldier, but who clubb'd his Mite?
Such, fuch emotions should in Britons rise,
When prefs'd by want and weakness DENNIS lies;
Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Huns,
Their Quibbles routed, and defy'd their Puns;
A defp'rate Bulwark, sturdy, firm, and fierce
Against the Gothic Sons of frozen verfe:

9

How chang'd from him who made the boxes groan,
And shook the stage with Thunders all his own! 16
Stood up to dash each vain PRETENDER's hope!
Maul the French Tyrant, or pull down the PoPE!
If there's a Briton then, true bred and born,
Who holds Dragoons and wooden shoes in scorn; 20
If there's a Critic of diftinguish'd rage;

If there's a Senior, who contemns this age;
Let him to night his just assistance lend,

And be the Critic's, Briton's, Old Man's Friend.

a hand has the Poet profecuted, in this benevolent irony, that end, which he fuppofed Dennis himfelf, had he the wit to fee, would have the ingenuity to approve.

This dreaded Sat'rift, Dennis zvill confefs,

Foe to bis pride, but Friend to his Diftrefs.

VER 7. Was there a Chief, etc.] The fine figure of the Com mander in that capital Picture of Belifarius at Chifwick, fupplied the Poet with this beautiful idea.

MACER:

A

CHARACTER.

W HEN fimple Macer, now of high renown,

First fought a Poet's Fortune in the Town,

"Twas all th' Ambition his high foul could feel,
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steel.
Some Ends of verse his Betters might afford,
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.
Set up with these he ventur'd on the Town,
And with a borrow'd Play, out-did poor Crown.
There he stop'd short, nor fince has writ a tittle,
But has the Wit to make the most of little:
Like ftunted hide-bound Trees, that juft have got
Sufficient fap at once to bear and rot.
Now he begs Verfe, and what he gets commends,
Not of the Wits his foes, but fools his friends.

10

14

So fome coarse Country Wench, almoft decay'd, Trudges to town, and firft turns Chambermaid; Aukward and fupple, each devoir to pay; She flatters her good Lady twice a day;

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