Than we with our poetic train come down,
For refuge hither, from th' infected town:
Heav'n for our fins this Summer has thought fit
To vifit us with all the plagues of wit.
A French troop first swept all things in its way;
But thofe hot Monfieurs were too quick to stay:
Yet, to our coft, in that short time, we find
They left their itch of novelty behind.
Th' Italian Merry-Andrews took their place,
And quite debauch'd the stage with lewd grimace:
Instead of wit, and humours, your delight
Was there to fee two hobby-horses fight;
Stout Scaramoucha with ruth lance rode in,
And ran a tilt at Centaur Arlequin.
For love you heard how amorous affes bray'd,
And cats in gutters gave their ferenade.
Nature was out of count'nance, and each day
Some new-born monfter fhewn you for a play.
But when all fail'd, to ftrike the ftage quite dumb,
Those wicked engines, call'd machines, are come.
Thunder and lightning now for wit are play'd,
And shortly scenes in Lapland will be laid:
Art magic is for poetry profeft;
And cats and dogs, and each obfcener beast,
To which Ægyptian dotards once did bow,
Upon our English stage are worshipp'd now.
Witchcraft reigns there, and raises to renown
Macbeth, and Simon Magus of the town;
Fletcher's defpis'd, your Johnfon's out of fashion,
And wit the only drug in all the nation.
In this low ebb our wares to you are shown;
By you those staple authors worth is known;
For wit's a manufacture of your own.
When you, who only can, their scenes have prais'd,
We'll boldly back, and fay, their price is rais'd.
EPILOGUE, fpoken at OXFORD,
FT has our poet wifh'd, this happy feat
Might prove his fading Mufe's last retreat :
I wonder'd at his wifh, but now I find
He fought for quiet, and content of mind;
Which noifeful towns, and courts can never know,
And only in the fhades like laurels grow.
Youth, cre it fees the world, here studies reft,
And age returning thence concludes it beft.
What wonder if we court that happiness
Yearly to fhare, which hourly you poffefs,
Teaching e'en you, while the vext world we fhow,
Your peace to value more, and better know?
'Tis all we can return for favours past,
Whofe holy memory fhall ever last,
For patronage from him whose care prefides
O'er ev'ry noble art, and ev'ry science guides:
Bathurst, a name the learn'd with reverence know,
And scarcely more to his own Virgil owe;
Whofe age enjoys but what his youth deserv'd,
To rule thofe Mufes whom before he ferv'd.
His learning, and untainted manners too,
We find, Athenians, are deriv'd to you :
Such ancient hofpitality there refts
In yours, as dwelt in the first Grecian breasts,
Whose kindness was religion to their guests.
Such modesty did to our sex appear,
As, had there been no laws, we need not fear,
Since each of you was our protector here.
Converse so chaste, and so strict virtue shown,
As might Apollo with the Mufes own.
Till our return, we might despair to find
Judges fo juft, fo knowing, and so kind.
PROLOGUE to the University of Oxford.
Ifcord and plots, which have undone our age,
With the fame ruin have o'erwhelm'd the stage.
Our houfe has fuffer'd in the common, woe,
We have been troubled with Scotch rebels too.
Our brethren here from Thames to Tweed departed,
And of our fifters all the kinder hearted,
To Edinborough gone, or coach'd or carted.
With bonny bluecape there they act all night
For Scotch half-crown, in English three-pence hight.
One nymph, to whom fat Sir John Falstaff's lean,
There with her single perfon fills the scene.
Another, with long use and age decay'd,
Div'd here old woman, and rose there a maid.
Our trusty door-keepers of former time
There ftrut and fwagger in heroic rhime.
Tack but a copper-lace to drugget fuit,
And there's a hero made without difpute:"
And that, which was a capon's tail before,
Becomes a plume for Indian emperor.
But all his fubjects, to exprefs the care
Of imitation, go, like Indians, bare:
Lac'd linen there would be a dangerous thing;
It might perhaps a new rebellion bring;
The Scot, who wore it, would be chofen king.
But why fhould I thefe renegades defcribe,
When you yourselves have seen a lewder tribe?
Teague has been here, and to this learned pit,
With Irish action flander'd English wit;
You have beheld fuch barb'rous Mac's appear,
As merited a fecond maflacre:
Such as, like Cain, was branded with difgrace,
And had their country ftamp'd upon their face.
When ftrolers durft prefume to pick your purse,
We humbly thought our broken troop not worse.
How ill foe'er our action may deserve,
Oxford's a place, where wit can never starve.
PROLOGUE to the University of Oxford.
'HO' actors cannot much of learning boast,
Of all who want it, we admire it moft;
We love the praises of a learned pit,
As we remotely are ally'd to wit.
We speak our poet's wit, and trade in ore,
Like those who touch upon the golden shore';
Betwixt our judges can diftinction make,
Difcern how much, and why, our poems take;
Mark if the fools, or men of fenfe, rejoice;
Whether th'applaufe be only found or voice.
When our fop-gallants, or our city-folly,
Clap over-loud, it makes us melancholy :
We doubt that scene which does their wonder raise,
And, for their ignorance, contemn their praife.
Judge then, if we who act, and they who write,
Shou'd not be proud of giving you delight.
London likes grofsly; but this nicer pit
Examines, fathoms, all the depths of wit;
The ready finger lays on every blot;
Knows what shou'd justly please, and what shou'd not.
Nature herself lies open to your view;
You judge by her, what draught of her is true,
Where out-lines falfe, and colours feem too faint,
Where bunglers daub, and where true poets paint.
But by the facred genius of this place,
By ev'ry mufe, by each domeftic grace,
Be kind to wit, which but endeavours well,
And, where you judge, prefumes not to excel.
Our poets thither for adoption come,
As nations fu'd to be made free of Rome:
Not in the fuffragating tribes to stand,
But in your utmost, laft, provincial band.
If his ambition may thofe hopes pursue,
Who with religion loves your arts and you,
Oxford to him a dearer name fhall be,
Than his own mother-university.
Thebes did his green, unknowing, youth, engage;
He chufes Athens in his riper age.
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