Our aged limbs we 'll bafk in Phoebus'
And live this day devoted to our ease.
Early to-day we'll to the bath repair,
Nor need we now the common cenfure fear:
On feftivals it is allow'd no crime
To bathe and eat before the usual time;
But that continued, would a loathing give,
Nor could you thus a week together live :
For frequent ufe would the delight exclude:
Pleafure's a toil when conftantly pursued.
Upon her Majefty's coming to fee the OLD BATCH LOR, after having feen the DOUBLE-DEALER.
Y this repeated act of grace, we see
Wit is again the care of Majefty;
And while thus honour'd our proud stage appears,
We seem to rival ancient theatres.
Thus flourish'd wit in our forefathers' age,
And thus the Roman and Athenian stage.
Whose wit is beft, we'll not prefume to tell;
But this we know, our audience will excell:
For never was in Rome, nor Athens, fcen
So fair a circle, and fo bright a Queen.
G
Long has the Mufes' land been overcaft,
And many rough and stormy winters past ;
Hid from the world, and thrown in fhades of night,
Of heat depriv'd, and almost void of light:
While Wit, a hardy plant, of nature bold,
Has ftruggled ftrongly with the killing cold :
So does it ftill, through oppofition grow,
As if its root was warmer kept by fnow :
But when shot forth, then draws the danger near,
On every fide the gathering winds appear,
But now, new vigour and new life it knows,
And warmth that from this royal prefence flows.
O would she shine with rays more frequent here!
How gay would then this drooping land appear!
Then, like the fun, with pleasure she might view
The smiling earth, cloath'd by her beams anew.
O'er all the meads, fhould various flowers be feen
Mix'd with the laurel's never-fading green,
The new creation of a gracious Queen.
QUEEN'S THEATRE, IN THE HAY-MARKET,
WITH AN ITALIAN PASTORAL.
Whatever future fate our house may find,
At prefent we expect you fhould be kind;
Inconftancy itself can claim no right,
Before enjoyment and the wedding-night.
You must be fix'd a little ere you range,
You must be true till you have time to change.
A week, at least ́; one night is fure too foon:
But we pretend not to a honey-moon.
To novelty we know you can be true,
But what, alas! or who, is always new?
This day, without prefumption, we pretend
With novelty entire you 're entertain'd;
For not alone our house and fcenes are new,
Our fong and dance, but ev'n our actors too.
Our play itself has fomething in't uncommon,
Two faithful lovers, and one conftant woman.
In sweet Italian ftrains our fhepherds fing,
Of harmless loves our paint forests ring,
In notes, perhaps, less foreign than the thing.
To found and fhow at firft we make pretence,
In time we may regale you with some sense,
But that, at prefent, were too great expence.
We only fear the beaux may think it hard,
To be to-night from smutty jefts debarr'd :
But, in good-breeding, fure they'll once excufe
Ev'n modefty, when in a stranger-mufe.
The day's at hand when we shall shift the fcene,
And to yourfelves fhew your dear felves again :
Paint the reverse of what you 've seen to-day,
And in bold ftrokes the vicious town display.
PYRRHUS KING OF EPIRUS.
OUR age has much improv'd the warrior's art;
For fighting, now, is thought the weakest part;
And a good head, more useful than a heart.
This way of war does our example yield;
That ftage will win, which longeft keeps the field.
We mean not battle, when we bid defiance;
But ftarving one another to compliance.
Our troops encamp'd are by each other view'd,
And thofe which firft are hungry, are fubdued.
And there, in truth, depends the great decision:
They conquer, who cut off the foes' provifion.
Let fools with knocks and bruises keep a pother,
Our war and trade is to outwit each other;
But, hold will not the politicians tell us,
That both our conduct and our forefight fail us ;
To raife recruits, and draw new forces down;
Thus, in the dead vacation of the town,
To mufter up our rhymes, without our reason,
And forage for an audience out of feafon ?
Our author's fears must this falfe ftep excufe;
'Tis the first flight of a juft-feather'd Muse
Th' occafion ta'en, when critics are away;
Half wits and beaux, thofe ravenous birds of prey.
But, heaven be prais'd, far hence they vent their wrath,
Mauling, in mild lampoon, th' intriguing Bath.
Thus does our author his first flight commence ;
Thus, against friends at firft, with foils we fence:
Thus prudent Gimcrack try'd if he were able
(Ere he'd wet foot) to fwim upon a table.
Then fpare the youth; or, if you'll damn the play,
Let him but first have his, then take your day.
OU fee we try all shapes, and shifts and arts,
To tempt your favours, and regain your hearts. We weep, and laugh, join mirth and grief together, Like rain and funshine mix'd, in April weather. Your different tastes divide our poet's cares : One foot the fock, t' other the bufkin wears :
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