WHEN first the haughty critic's direful rage,
With gothic fury, over-ran the stage,

Then prologues rose, and strove with varied art
To gain the soft accesses to the heart,
Through all the tuneful tribe th' infection flew,
And each great genius-his petition drew;
In forma pauperis address'd the pit,
With all the gay antithesis of wit,
Their sacred art poor poets own'd a crime;
They sigh'd in simile, they bow'd in rhyme.
For charity they all were forc'd to beg;
And every prologue was " a wooden leg."
Next these a hardy, manly race appear'd,
Who knew no dullness, and no critics fear'd.
From Nature's store each curious tint they drew,
Then boldly held the piece to public view:
"Lo! here, exact proportion! just design!
The bold relief! and the unerring line!
Mark in soft union how the colours strike!
This, sirs, you will, or this you ought to like."
They bid defiance to the foes of wit,
"Scatter'd like ratsbane up and down the pit."

Such prologues were of yore;-our hard to-night
Disdains a false compassion to excite;
Nor too secure your judgment would oppose;
He packs no jury, and he dreads no foes.
To govern here no party can expect;
An audience will preserve its own respect.
To catch the foibles, that misguide the fair,
From trifles spring, and end in lasting care,
Our author aims; nor this alone he tries,
But as fresh objects, and new manners rise,
He bids his canvass glow with various dyes;
Where sense and folly mix in dubious strife,
Alternate rise, and struggle into life.
Judge if with art the mimic strokes he blend;
If amicably light and shade contend;
The mental features if he trace with skill;
See the piece first, then damn it if you will.

SCENE I. A Room in LOVEMORE's House. WILLIAM discovered at Cards, with a brother Servant. Wil. A PLAGUE on it!-I've turn'd out my game. -Is forty-seven good?

Serv. Equal.

Wil. A plague go with it-tierce to a queen-
Serv. Equal.

Wil. I've ruin'd my game, and be hang'd to me. I don't believe there's a footman in England plays with worse luck than myself.-Four aces are fourteen! Serv. That's hard:-cruel, by Jupiter!

Wil. Four aces are fourteen-fifteen.
Serv. There's your equality.

[Plays.

[Plays.

Enter MUSLIN.

Mus. There's a couple of you, indeed!-You're so fond of the vices of your betters, that you're scarce out of your beds, when you must pretend to imitate them and their ways, forsooth.

Wil. Pr'ythee be quiet, woman, do—Eighteen

Mus. Set you up, indeeed, Mr. Coxcomb

Wil. Nineteen!-Clubs

[Plays.

[Plays.

Mus. Have done with your foolery, will ye? and send my lady word

Wil. Hold your tongue, Mrs. Muslin, you'll put us out. What shall I play?—I'll tell you, woman, my master and I desire to have nothing to say to you or your lady. -Twenty- Diamonds! [Plays. Mus. But I tell you, Mr. Saucebox, that my lady desires to know when your master came home last night, and how he is this morning?

Wil. Pr'ythee, be quiet: I and my master are resolved to be teas'd no more by you. And so, Mrs. Go-between, you may return as you came.-What the devil sball I play? We'll have nothing to do with you, I tell youMus. You'll have nothing to do with us!-But you shall have to do with us, or I'll know the reason why. [Snatches the Cards out of his Hands. Wil. Death and fury! This meddling woman has destroyed my whole game.

Mus. Now, sir, will you be so obliging as to send an answer to her questions-How and when your rakehelly master came home last night?

Wil. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Muslin,-you and my master will be the death of me at last; that's what you will-In the name of charity what do you both take me for? Whatever appearances may be, I am but o mortal mould: nothing supernatural about me.

Mus. Upon my word, Mr. Powderpuff!—

Wil. I have not indeed-And so, do you see, flesh and blood can't hold it always-I can't be for ever a slave to your whims, and your second-hand airs. Mus. Second-hand airs!

Wil. Yes, second-hand airs!-You take them at your ladies' toilets with their cast gowns, and so you descend to us with them.-And then, on the other hand, there's my master!-Because he chooses to live upon the principal of his health, and so run out his whole stock