To whom our country has been always dear,
Who chose to leave his dearest pledges here,
Owns all your favours, here intends to stay,
And, as a stroller, act in every play :
And the whole crew this refolution takes,
To live and die all ftrollers for your fakes :
Not frighted with an ignominious name,
For your difpleasure is their only fhame.
A pox on Elrington's majestic tone!
Now to a word of bufinefs in our own.

Gallants, next Thursday night will be our last;
Then, without fail, we pack up for Belfast.
Lose not your time, nor our diverfions mifs,
The next we act fhall be as good as this.

EPIGRAM.

REAT folks are of a finer mold;

GE

Lord! how politely they can fçold!

While a coarse English tongue will itch,
For whore and rogue; and dog and bitch.

PROLOGUE to a PLAY for the Benefit of the DISTRESSED WEAVERS. By Dr. SHERIDAN. Spoken by Mr. ELRINGTON. 1721.

G

REAT and little wool-is now become
cry

The plague and proverb of the Weaver's loom: No wool to work on, neither weft nor warp;

Their pockets empty, and their stomachs sharp.

Provok❜d,

Provok'd, in loud complaints to you they cry:
Ladies, relieve the weavers; or they die!
Forfake your filks for ftuffs; nor think it strange,
To fhift your cloaths, fince you delight in change.
One thing with freedom I'll prefume to tell-
The men will like you every bit as well.

See I am drefs'd from top to toe in stuff;

:

And, by my troth, I think I'm fine enough
My wife admires me more, and swears she never,
In any drefs, beheld me look fo clever.
And, if a man be better in fuch ware,
What great advantage must it give the fair!
Our wool from lambs of innocence proceeds:
Silks come from maggots, callicoes from weeds:
Hence 'tis by fad experience that we find
Ladies in filks to vapours much inclin❜d-
And what are they but maggots in the mind?
For which I think it reafon to conclude

That cloaths may change our temper like our food.
Chintzes are gawdy, and engage our eyes
Too much about the party-colour'd dyes:
Although the luftre is from you begun,
We fee the rainbow, and neglect the fun.

How sweet and innocent's the country maid,
With fmall expence in native wool array'd;
Who copies from the fields her homely green,
While by her fhepherd with delight the 's feen!
Should our fair ladies drefs like her in wool,
How much more lovely, and how beautiful,

Without their Indian drapery, they'd prove,
Whilft wool would help to warm us into love!
Then, like the famous Argonauts of Greece,
We'd all contend to gain the Golden Fleece !

EPILOGUE, BY THE DEAN.
Spoken by Mr. GRIFFITH.

WHO dares affirm this is no pious age,

When charity begins to tread the stage?
When actors, who, at beft, are hardly favers,
Will give a night of benefit to Weavers ?
Stay-let me fee, how finely will it found!
Imprimis, From his Grace an hundred pound.
Peers, clergy, gentry, all are benefactors;
And then comes in the item of the actors.
Item, The actors freely gave a day—
The Poet had no more who made the Play.

But whence this wondrous charity in Players ?
They learnt it not at Sermons, or at Prayers :
Under the rofe, fince here are none but friends,
To own the truth) we have fome private ends.
Since waiting-women, like exacting jades,
Hold up the prices of their old brocades;
We'll drefs in manufactures made at home;
Equip our kings and generals at The Comb +.

*Abp. King.

A ftreet famous for Woollen Manufactures.

We'll

We'll rig from Meath-ftreet Egypt's haughty queen,
And Antony fhall court her in ratteen.
In blue balloon fhall Hannibal be clad,
And Scipio trail an Irish purple plaid.
In drugget dreft, of thirteen pence a yard,
See Philip's fon amidst his Perfian guard;
And proud Roxana, fir'd with jealous rage,
With fifty yards of crape fhall fweep the stage.
In short, our kings and princeffes within
Are all refolv'd this project to begin;

And you, our fubjects, when you here refort,
Muft imitate the fashion of the Court.

Oh! could I fee this audience clad in fluff,
Though money 's fcarce, we should have trade enough?
But chintze, brocades, and lace, take all away,
And scarce a crown is left to fee a play.

Perhaps you wonder whence this friendship springs
Between the Weavers and us Play-house Kings;
But Wit and Weaving had the fame beginning; .
Pallas first taught us Poetry and Spinning:
And, next, obferve how this alliance fits,
For Weavers now are juft as poor as Wits:
Their brother quill-men, workers for the stage,
For forry fluff can get a crown a page ;
But Weavers will be kinder to the Players,
And fell for twenty-pence a yard of theirs.
And, to your knowledge, there is often lefs in
The Poet's wit, than in the Player's dreifing.

A POEM, BY DR. DELANY,

On the preceding PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE. "Fœmineo generi tribuantur.”

TH

HE Mufes, whom the richest filks array,
Refufe to fling their fhining gowns away:
The pencil cloaths the Nine in bright brocades,
And gives each colour to the pictur'd maids ;
Far above mortal-drefs the fifters fhine,

Pride in their Indian robes, and must be fine.
And fhall two Bards in concert rhyme and huff,
And fret thefe Mufes with their Play-house stuff?
The Player in mimic piety may storm,
Deplore the Comb, and bid her Heroes arm :
The arbitrary mob, in paltry rage,

May curfe the Belles and Chintzes of the age:
Yet ftill the Artist Worm her Silk fhall fhare,
And fpin her thread of life in fervice of the fair.

The Cotton-plant, whom fatire cannot blast,
Shall bloom the favourite of these realms, and laft;
Like yours, ye Fair, her fame from cenfure grows,
Prevails in charms, and glares above her foes:
Your injur'd plant fhall meet a loud defence,
And be the emblem of your innocence.

Some Bard, perhaps, whofe landlord was a Weaver, Penn'd the low Prologue, to return a favour : Some neighbour Wit, that would be in the vogue, Work'd with his friend, and wove the Epilogue.

Who