WRITTEN BY JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ

AND SPOKEN BY MR. MIDDLETON.

"TIS strange that authors, who so rarely find
Their pray'rs can move an audience to be kind,
Still fend, with piteous tone and look forlorn,
The Prologue forth to deprecate your scorn;
Such doleful heralds, which would fain appear
The timid ftruggles of a modeft fear,

The furly Critic views with jealous spleen,
As the dull prefage of the coming scene.
In vain, the dread hoftility to calm,

E'en potent Flatt'ry tries her foothing balm;
Pity's a crime his lofty foul difdains

And his pride feafts upon the poet's pains.
Yet now no critic rancour need we fear,
For lib'ral candour holds her empire here,
Candour, who fcorns for little faults to pry,
But looks on merits with a partial eye.

And fure a bard whose muse so oft has found
The happy pow'r to kindle mirth around,
Though, in her sportive moods, averse to trace,
The rigid forms of Action, Time, and Place,
While gen'rous objects animate her view,
May ftill her gay luxuriant courfe pursue;
For, mid her whims, fhe ftill has fhewn the art,
To prefs the USEFUL MORAL on the heart;
With juft contempt the worthlefs to discard,
And deal to VIRTUE its deferv'd reward.

So aim'd the bard* (if haply we may dare,
Our humble scenes with nobleft strains compare)
The bard whofe favour'd mufe could joy afford,
That eas'd the cares of Rome's Imperial Lord,
Who in her fatire frolickfome and wild,
Gave vice the deepest wounds when most she smil'd.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

TRADESMEN, and SERVANTS.

SCENE, Suffer.

LIFE'S VAGARIES;

OR,

THE NEGLECTED SON:

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Parlour in DICKINS's; Breakfast laid.

Enter SIR HANS BURGESS, and ROBIN HOOFS.

SIR HANS.

I'LL truft nothing to the errand cart, you must bring up my own waggon; cuts fuch a figure! a Gentleman's fine team ringing thro' a country

``town.

Robin. Why it does make folks ftare.

Sir H. There's the Duke's cart, Lord Marquifs's cart, and why not his Worship's cart? and on it written in capitals, "Sir Hans Burgefs! Samphire Hall." A ride of feven miles, after breakfasting at eight as I have, is a kind of Whet; but to find Major Talbot there over his breakfast at eleven! Shameful! Eh, why here's

another

another Breakfast at-(looks at his watch) twelve! Scandalous!

Robin. Now you mention that Sir, don't forget, that Squire Miller invites you to dine with him to day.

Sir H. Aye, his dinner hour is two; you call and tell him, I'll wait on him. [Exit ROBIN.] I breakfast at eight, Major Talbot at eleven, this little Shopkeeper at twelve, why a man in his rounds, according to the degrees of fashion, may fwallow four or five breakfafts in a morning. Ah, Dickins is quite fpoilt by a Lord's taking notice of him-aping all the abfurd impertinence of fashion; an infignificant cur mongrel, fetting himself up for a greyhound.

Enter DICKINS, in a morning gown, &c. tying his neckcloth, fits.

Dick. When one fups at the Castle, no rifing next morning (yawns, not minding Sir Hars.)

Sir H. The Caftle! fup with Lord Viscount Torrendel.

Dick. His Lordship would make me bumper it laft night, toasting fuch bundles of his fine girls; 'pon my foul I and Torrendel knock'd the bottle about rarely. How his Lordship ftared at dinner when I hob nob'd him; fays he, my dear Dickins, are you in earnest? 'pon my foul, faid I my dear Torrendel I am, that's poz. I'm used to good old black port, and his Lordship's pink Burgundy has given me an immense head-ach. No getting from him, he's fuch good company. (yawns.)

Sir H. Then I'm not even to be asked to fit down?

Dick. Sir Hans Burgefs! Oh, how do ye do?

Sir H.

Sir H. Well, this is good, a Gentleman comes to talk about business, and its "Oh, how do ye do."

Dick. Bufinefs! true, I ride out with my Lord this morning.

Sir H Pleafe, Sir, firft to ftep into your shop, and weigh out the fugar and tobacco for my fervant, Robin Hoofs.

Dick. (rifing) Sir, if you don't know how to behave as a parlour vifitor to me, as a customer, walk into my fhop, and wait there till you are ferv'd. Here John, take this perfon's orders. Weigh tobacco! as you are now Sir Hans Burgefs, I may yet be Sir Anthony Dickins; I may be knighted for bringing up an addrefs. You made your money by a contract of hats, and an't I making mine by

Sir H. Your country merchant fhop of all forts. Dick. My banking-houfe, agencies, receiverfhips, factorfhips

Sir H. And coal-fhips. Now I have laid out my money in buying a fcope of land, and my grand hobby is to turn it into a fashionable feabathing place. I have fuch a liberal mind to accommodate the publick, I built first there a beautiful houfe

Dick. For yourfelf. As my Lord fays, to ferve a man's felf, has been long the way of doing things for the public good.

Sir H. I raised as pretty an hotel! and the neat row of lodging-houses!

Dick. But to give it a name, you must get a few of us people of fashion down to it. Suppofe Ifay to his Lordfhip, 'pon my foul Torrendel, now you should take a house from my friend, Sir Hans, he's a good, honeft, ftupid fort of a foul

-why