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As to your Drinking but for that we
but for that we spare it,
Nor with your other vile Delights compare it,
There's something more than Sound, there's Sense in Claret.
Mean while neglected Verse, in long Disgrace,
Amongst your many Pleasures finds no Place;
The virtuous Laws of common Sense forfwearing,
You damn us like packt Juries, without hearing.
Each puny Whipster here, is Wit enough,
Witb fcornful Airs, and supercilious Snuff,
To cry, This Tragedy's such damnd grave Stuff.
But now we hope more equal Judges come,
Since Flanders sends the generous.
Warriors home :
You that have fought for Liberty and Laws,
Whose Valour the proud Gallick Tyrant awes,
Join to assert the sinking Muses Cause,
Since the fame Flame, by different Ways expres’d,
Glows in the Hero's and the Poet's Breast;
The same great Thoughts that you se you to the Fight
Inspire the Muse; and bid the Poet write.
Spoken by Mrs. Oldfield, who acted Ethe
HE Bufmess of the Day being now gone thro'
I quit the Saint, and am like one of you;
As well to look to, tho' not quite so good;
1 bate in Spirit, but keep my Flesh and Blood.
The Moral of this Play being rightly scann’d,
Is, He that leaves his nown dear Wife is dama'd.
I leave to you to make the Application :
The Doctrine, tho' a little out of Fashion,
May be of use in this fame finful Nation.'
What think you of the Matter? Which of you
Would, for his sponse, like my true Turtle do?
When Wealth and Beauty both at once importune,
Who would not leave his Wife, to make his Fortune ?
To jome, I know, it may appear but odly,
That this place, of all others, should turn godly:
But what of that? Since fome good Souls there are,
Would gladly be instructed any where;
Nor should you scorn the Weakness of the Teacher,
The Wijest Man is not the ableft Preacher.
Ev'n we, poor Women, have sometimes the Pom't,
Read as you are, and rich in Learning's Store,
To teach you Men what you ne'er knew before.
To no Enthusiastick Rage we fwell,
Norgenm, nor act Tom Tumbler out of Zeal.
But tho' we dont pretend to Inspiration,
Tet, like the Prophets of a Neighbour Nation,
Our Teaching chiefly lyes in AGITATION.
Perhaps, indeed, such are your wandring Brains,
Our Author might have spar'd his Tragick Pains :
By that you've supp’d, and are set in to Drinking,
Some fweeter Matters will employ your Thinking:
With Nymphs Divine, writ on each Glass before ye,
You'll be but little better for our Story.
But fmce the parting Hour, tho late, will come,
And all of you, at least as I prefume,
May find some kind, instructive She at home,
Then Curtain Lectures will, I hope, be read,
Those Morals then, which from your Thoughts were fled,
Shall be put home to you, and taught a-bed.
Hengift, King of Kent, Son to?
Hengist the first Saxon Invader Mr. Booth.
of Britain. Aribert, his Brother.
Mr. Wilks. offa, a Saxon Prince.
Mr. Husbands. Seofrid, first Minister and Favou-7
rite to the King Oswald, Friend to Aribert. Mr. Keen
Rodogune, a Saxon Princess, Sifter Mrs. Barry.
to Offa, betrothed to the King. S Ethelinda, a Britiba mindre prin} Mrs. Oldfield.
Priests, Officers, Soldiers, and other Attendants.
SCENE in Kent, about Twenty
Tears after the firft Invasion of Bri-
tain by tbe Saxons.
UCH are, my Friend, the joys our Loves
So fill to be desir'd, so ever new,
Nor by Fruition pallod, nor chang’d by Ab
fence. Whate'er the Poets dreamt of their Elyfium, Or what the Saints believe of the first Paradise, When Nature was not yet deformd by Winter, But one perpetual Beauty crown'd the Year, Such' have we found 'em ftill, fill, still the fame. 08. Such grant, kind Heaven, their Course to be for