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Let lean-ey'd Honesty bear

His merited weight of care.

And phlegm and consience dwell

In cynical tub or cell;

But all ye lovers of game, and glee,

And feast, and frolick, come-follow me!

To pleasure, and prank, and pastime free,

Come follow, follow, follow me!

The pedhnted priest, who fain

Would ride, but wants a rein;

To moral us into controul,

Would sour the jovial soul—

The Priest is cunning and so are we;

Then Priest, and people, come follow me!

From scruple, and qualm, and conscience free

Come follow, follow, follow me!

AIR.

Tune. —' Dole and woe fa' our Cat.'

For often my mammy has told,
And sure she is wonderous wise,

In cities that all you behold,
Is a fair, but a faithless disguise.

That the modes of a court education,
Are train-pits and traitors to youth;

And the only fine language in fashion,
A tongue that is foreign to truth,

Where Honour is barely an oath,

Where knaves are with noblemen classed; Where Natures' a stranger to "both,

And Love aji old tale of times past.

Where laughter no pleasure dispenses,
Where smiles are the envoys of art;

Where joy lightly swims on the senses,
But never can enter the heart.

Where hopes and kind hugs are trepanners,
Where V irtue's divorced from success;

Where cringing goes current for manners,
And worth is no deeper than dress.

Where Favour creeps lamely on crutches,
Where Friendship is nothing but face;

And the title of duke, or of duchess,
Is all that entitles to Grace.

A I R.

Tune. —' You Commons and Peers.'

The time to beguile,

Now listen a-while, .

And I'll shew you an excellent plot;

How husband and wife,

Through the crosses of life,

May be held by the true lover's knot.

As mortals are frail,

Let indulgence prevail,

And all mutual infirmities blot;

Let the husband atone

His wife's faults, by his own,

And I'll vouch for the true lover's knot.

My Dolly so bright,

Should your Hob over night,

Be surprised by his pipe or his pot;

Let him sleep his dose out,

Nor by scolding and pout,

Strive to loosen the true lover's knot.

When your wives they grow grey,

And their graces decay,

Of all mortal beauty the lot;

Remember their youth,

And by friendship and truth,

Make eternal the true lover's knot.

Prologue for the Opening of a Theatre.

When lazy moralists from cloisters taught
The frosty precepts of unpractised thought,
Howe'er the judgment coldly was inform'd,
No worth was kindled, for no heart was warm'd.
But when some good Man to the publick read,
The generous lecture of a life well led;
When patriots stood for liberty and laws,
Or fell the victims of their country's cause;
Then hearts were taught to glow, and eyes to melt,
And hands to act the lesson that was felt.

In languid maxims, which we barely hear,
The voice of Truth sounds distant to our ear;
But Action bids the substance to arise,
And gives the living Beauty to your eyes.

Hence, was the Stage, from earliest times, design'd

A vital School of Virtue to mankind:

In real life, if scant the Good and Fair,

If Truth be foreign, and if Worth be rare,

For these through everv clime and age we steer;

Anil* thence unlade the precious purchase—here!

Though Time and Death have closed their ancient reign.

They bar their everlasting gates in vain —
The fatal valves shall to your eyes unfold,
Recal the past, and renovate the old;
And, from the realms of silence and of night,
Pour down a flood of eloquence and light.

Whate'er of worth informs the social breast,.
Upon humanity by Heaven imprest,
The sympathy that proves gieat souls of kin,
The touch that tries the hidden gold within;
Whate'er of generous, courteous, fond, and
kind,

Strikes the lined unison of mind to mind;
Whate'er may teach a virtuous eye to flow,
For griefs that past, nine hundred years ago;
All those we bring—Confest to modern eyes,
The Deed of fam'd antiquity shall rise;

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