reader in his closet; and hopes that too much refinement will not banish humour and character from ours, as it has already done from the French theatre. Indeed the French comedy is now become so very elevated and fentimental, that it has not only ba-. nished humour and Moliere from the stage, but it has banished all spectators too.

Upon the whole, the author returns his thanks to the public for the favourable reception which the Good-Natur'd Man has met with: and to Mr. Colman in particular, for his kindness to it. It may not alfo be improper to affure any, who fhall hereafter write for the theatre, that merit, or fuppofed merit, will ever be a fufficient passport to his protection.

PRO

D R.

WRITTEN BY

JOHNSON

SPOKEN BY

M R. B EN SL E Y.

PREST by the load of life, the weary mind
Surveys the general toil of human kind;
With cool fubmiffion joins the lab'ring train,
And focial forrow, lofes half its pain:
Our anxious bard, without complaint, may share
This bustling feafon's epidemic care.
Like Cæfar's pilot, dignify'd by fate,

Toft in one common ftorm 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, juft the fame;
Difabled both to combat, or to fly,

Muft 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;
Their fchemes of fpite the poet's foes difmifs,
Till that glad night, when all that hate may hifs.
"This

VOL. II.

B

"This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," Says fwelling Crifpin, "begg'd a cobler's vote." "This night, our wit," the pert apprentice cries, "Lies at my feet, I hifs him, and he dies."

The great, 'tis true, can charm th' electing tribe;
The bard may fupplicate, but cannot bribe.
Yet judg'd by thofe, whofe voices ne'er were fold,
He feels no want of ill-perfuading gold;
But confident of praife, if praise be due,
Trufts without fear, to merit, and to you.

GOOD

Sir WILLIAM.

Jarvis, make no apologies for this honeft bluntness. Fidelity, like yours, is the best excufe for every freedom.

JARVIS.

I can't help being blunt, and being very angry too, when I hear you talk of difinheriting fo good, fo worthy a young gentleman as your nephew, my mafter. All the world loves him.

Sir WILLIAM.

Say rather, that he loves all the world; that is his fault.

JARVIS.

I'm fure there is no part of it more dear to him than you are, though he has not feen you fince he was a child,

1

Sir WILLIAM.

What fignifies his affection to me; or how can I be proud of a place in a heart where every fharper and coxcomb find an easy entrance?

JARVIS.

I grant you that he is rather too good-natur'd; that he's too much every man's man; that he laughs this minute with one, and cries the next with another but whofe inftructions may he thank for all this?

Sir WILLIAM.

Not mine, fure? My letters to him during my employment in Italy, taught him only that philofophy which might prevent, not defend his errors.

JARVIS.

Faith, begging your honour's pardon, I'm forry they taught him any philofophy at all; it has only ferv'd to spoil him. This fame philofophy is a good horfe in the ftable, but an arrant jade on a journey. For my own part, whenever I hear him mention the name on't, I'm always fure he's going to play the fool.

Sir WILLIAM.

Don't let us afcribe his faults to his philofophy, I entreat you. No, Jarvis, his good nature arifes rather from his fears of offending the importunate, than his defire of making the deferving happy.

JARVIS.

What it rifes from, I don't know. But, to be

fure, every body has it, that afks it.