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Unknown, unheeded, long his offsping lay,
And want hung threat'ning o'er her flow decay.
What though she shine with no Miltonian fire,
No fav'ring Muse her morning dreams inspire;
Yet fofter claims the melting heart engage,
Her youth laborious, and her blameless age;
Hers the mild merits of domestick life,
The patient fufferer, and the faithful wife.
Thus, grac'd with humble virtue's native charms,
Her grandfire leaves her in Britannia's arms;
Secure with peace, with competence, to dwell,
While tutelary nations guard her cell.
Yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wise, ye brave!
'Tis yours to crown defert-beyond the grave.

PROLOGUE,

TO THE COMEDY OF

THE GOOD-NATUR'D MAN. 1769.

P

REST by the load of life, the weary mind
Surveys the gen❜ral 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 season's epidemick care;
Like Cæsar's pilot dignify'd by fate,
Toft in one common ftorm with all the great;

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Diftreft

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, just the same ;
Disabled both to combat and to fly,

Must 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 burgess hoards his angry tale,
For that bleft year when all that vote may rail;
Their schemes of fpite the poet's foes difmifs,
Till that glad night when all that hate may hifs.

"This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," Says fwelling Crispin, "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 those whose voices ne'er were fold, He feels no want of ill-perfuading gold; But, confident of praise, if praise be due, Trufts without fear to merit and to you.

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SCENE XIII.

HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA.

MUSTAPHA TO MURZA.

What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee,
Thou fluggish idler, dilatory flave!

Behold the model of confummate beauty,
Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect !

MURZA.

Such was the will of Heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my courfe, fufpicious of my purpose, Rufh'd out and feiz'd me, thoughtlefs and unarm'd, Breathlefs, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me till Demetrius fet me free.

MUSTAPHA.

So fure the fall of greatnefs rais'd on crimes!
So fix'd the juftice of all-conscious Heav'n!

When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,
Mistake shall blaft, or accident destroy;
Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart,
But Heav'n fhall guide it to the guilty heart.

EPILOGUE.

M

ARRY a Turk! a haughty, tyrant king! Who thinks us women born to drefs and fing To please his fancy !-fee no other man!Let him perfuade me to it-if he can : Befides, he has fifty wives; and who can bear To have the fiftieth part her paltry share?

'Tis true, the fellow 's hand fome, ftrait, and tall; But how the devil fhould he please us all! My fwain is little-true-but, be it known, My pride's to have that little all my own. Men will be ever to their errors blind, Where woman's not allow'd to fpeak her mind ; I swear this Eastern pageantry is nonsense, And for one man-one wife's enough of confcience.

In vain proud man ufurps what 's woman's due; For us alone, they honour's paths pursue: Infpir'd by us, they glory's heights afcend; Woman the fource, the object, and the end. 'Tho' wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive, These all are trifles to what we can give. For us the statesman labours, hero fights, Bears toilfome days, and wakes long tedious nights; And, when bleft peace has filenc'd war's alarms, Receives his full reward in beauty's arms.

VOL. I

K

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