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TO THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK,

ON HER MARRIAGE.

BY MR. WELSTED.

AMBITION long has woman's heart betray'd,
And tinsel grandeur caught th' unwary maid;
The pompous styles, that strike th' admiring throng,
Have glitter'd in the eye of beauty long:
You, madam, first the female taste improve,
And give your fellow-charmers laws for love;
A pomp you covet, not to heralds known,
And sigh for virtues equal to your own:
Part in a man immortal greatly claim,
And frown on titles to ally with fame :
Not Edward's star, emboss'd with silver rays,
Can vie in glory with thy consort's bays;
His country's pride does homage to thy charms
And every merit crowds into thy arms.

While others gain light conquests by their eyes, 'Tis thine with wisdom to subdue the wise; To their soft chains while courtly beaux submit, 'Tis thine to lead in triumph captive wit: Her sighing vassals let Clarinda boast,

Of lace and languishing cockades the toast:

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In beauty's pride unenvied let her reign,
And share that wanton empire with the vain.
For thee the arts of Greece and Rome combine;
And all the glories, Cato gain'd, are thine:
Still Warwick in thy boasted rank of life,

But more illustrious, than when Warwick's wife.

Come forth, reveal thyself, thou chosen bride,
And shew great Nassau's poet by thy side;
Thy bright example shall instruct the fair,
And future nymphs shall make renown their care;
Embroid❜ry less shall charm the virgin's eye,
And kind coquettes, for plumes, less frequent die;
Secure shall beauty reign, the Muse its guard;
The Muse shall triumph, beauty its reward.

THE PREFACE.

HAVING recommended this play to the town, and delivered the copy of it to the bookseller, I think myself obliged to give some account of it.

It had been some years in the hands of the author, and falling under my perusal, I thought so well of it, that I persuaded him to make some additions and alterations to it, and let it appear upon the stage. I own I was very highly pleased with it, and liked it the better, for the want of those studied similies and repartees, which we, who have writ before him, have thrown into our plays, to indulge and gain upon a false taste that has prevailed for many years in the British theatre. I believe the author would have condescended to fall into this way a little more than he has, had he, before the writing of it, been often present at theatrical representations. I was confirmed in my thoughts of the play, by the opinion of better judges to whom it was communicated, who observed that the scenes were drawn after Moliere's manner, and that an easy and natural vein of humour ran through the whole.

I do not question but the reader will discover this, and see many beauties that escaped the audience; the touches being too delicate for every taste in a popular assembly. My brother sharers were of opinion, at the first reading of it, that it was like a picture in which the strokes were not strong enough to appear at a distance. As it is not in the common way of writing, the ap

probation was at first doubtful, but has risen every time it has been acted, and has given an opportunity in several of its parts for as just and good action as ever I saw on the stage.

The reader will consider that I speak here, not as the author, but as the patentee. Which is, perhaps, the reason why I am not diffuse in the praises of the play, lest I should seem like a man who cries up his own wares only to draw in customers.

RICHARD STEELE.

PROLOGUE.

In this grave age, when comedies are few,
We crave your patronage for one that's new;
Though 'twere poor stuff, yet bid the author fair,
And let the scarceness recommend the ware.
Long have your ears been fill'd with tragic parts,
Blood and blank-verse have harden'd all your hearts;
If e'er you smile, 'tis at some party strokes,
Round-heads and wooden-shoes are standing jokes :
The same conceit gives claps and hisses birth,
You're grown such politicians in your mirth!
For once we try (though 'tis, I own, unsafe,)
To please you all, and make both parties laugh.
Our author, anxious for his fame to-night,
And bashful in his first attempt to write,
Lies cautiously obscure and unreveal'd,

Like ancient actors in a mask conceal'd.
Censure when no man knows who writes the play,
Were much good malice merely thrown away.
The mighty critics will not blast, for shame,
A raw young thing, who dares not tell his name:
Good-natur'd judges will th' unknown defend,
And fear to blame, lest they shou'd hurt a friend:
Each wit may praise it, for his own dear sake,
And hint he writ it, if the thing shou'd take.

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