Act Beard, or Lowe, and show his tuneful art

From the plumb-pudding down to the desert. 2 Never on Earth was such a various elf,

He every day possess'd a different self;

wind,

As if some fifty bailiffs were behind:

At other times he'd sadly saunt'ring crawl,

As tho' he led the hearse, or held the sable pall.
Now for promotion he was all on flame,
And ev'ry sentence from St. James's came.
He'd brag how Sir John**** met him in the
Strand,
[hand;
And how his Grace of ***** took him by the
How the prince saw him at the last review,
And ask'd who was that pretty youth in blue?
Now wou'd he praise the peaceful sylvan scene,
The healthful cottage, and the golden mean.
Now wou'd he cry, "contented let me dwell
Safe in the harbour of my college cell;
No foreign cooks, nor livery'd servants nigh,
Let me with comfort eat my mutton pye;
While my pint-bottle, op'd by help of fork,
With wine enough to navigate a cork,
My sober solitary meal shall crown,
To study edge the mind, and drive the vapours
Yet, strange to tell! this wond'rous student lay
Snoring in bed for all the livelong day;
Night was his time for labour-in a word,
Never was man so cleverly absurd.

[down."

4 But here a friend of mine turns up his nose, "And you" (he cries) "are perfect, I suppose:" "Perfect! not I (pray, gentle sir, forbear) In this good age, when vices are so rare, I plead humanity, and claim my share. Who has not faults? great Marlborough had one, Nor Chesterfield is spotless, nor the Sun." Grubworm was railing at his friend Tom Queer, When Witwoud thus reproach'd him with a sneer, "Have you uo flaws, who are so prone to snub?". "I have but I forgive myself," quoth Grub.

• Nil æquale homini fuit illi: sæpe velut qui Currebat fugiens hostem: persæpe velut qui Junonis sacra ferret. Habebat sæpe ducentos, Sæpe decem servos: modo reges, atque tetrar

chas.

3 Omnia magna loquens. Modo, Sit mihi mensa tripes, &

Concha salis puri, & toga, quæ defendere frigus,
Quamvis crassa, queat, decies centena dedisses
Huic parco paucis contento: quinque diebus
Nil erat in loculis. Noctes vigilabat ad ipsum
Mane; diem totum stertebat: nil fuit unquam
Sic impar sibi. Nunc aliquis dicat mihi: Quid tu?
4 Nullane habes vitia? immo alia, & fortasse
minora.

Manius absentem Novium cum carperet: heus tu, Quidam ait. ignoras te? an ut ignotum dare nobis

Verba putas? egomet mi ignosco, Mænius inquit. Stultus, & improbus hic amor est, dignusque notari.

Cum tua pervideas oculis mala lippus inunctis,
Cur in amicorum vitiis tam cernis acutum.
Quam aut aquila, aut serpens Epidaurius? at
tibi contra

Evenit, inquirant vitia ut tua rursus & illi.

Spy'st with the quickness of an eagle's ken. Tho' strong resentment rarely lag behind, And all thy virulence be paid in kind.

5 Philander's temper's violent, nor fits
The wond'rons waggishness of modern wits;
His cap's awry, all ragged is his gown,
And (wicked rogue!) he wears his stockings
down;

But h'as a soul ingenuous as his face,
To you a friend, and all the human race;
Genius, that all the depths of learning sounds,
And generosity, that knows no bounds.
In fruits like these if the good youth excel,
Let them compensate for the awkward shell.
Sift then yourself, I say, and sift again,
Glean the pernicious tares from out the grain;
And ask thy heart, if custom, Nature's heir,
Hath sown no undiscover'd fern-seed there;
This be our standard then, on this we rest,
Nor search the casuis's for another test.

Let's be like lovers gloriously deceiv'd,
And each good man a better still believ'd;
E'en Celia's wart Strephon will not neglect,
But praises, kisses, loves the dear defect.
Oh! that in friendship we were thus to blame,
And ermin'd candour, tender of our fame,

| Wou'd clothe the honest errour with an honest name!

Be we then still to those we hold most dear,
Fatherly fond, and tenderly severe.
The sire, whose son squints forty thousand ways,
Finds in his features mighty room for praise:
"Ah! born" (he cries) "to make the ladies sigh,
Jacky, thou hast an amorous cast o' th' eye."

>

5 Iracundior est paullo minus aptus acutis Naribus horum hominum? rideri possit, eo quod Rusticius tonso toga defluit, and male laxus In pedo calceus hæret. At est bonus, ut melior vir [ingens Non alius quisquam: at tibi amicus: at ingenium Inculto latet hoc sub corpore. Denique teipsum Concute, num qua tibi vitiorum inseverit olim Natura, aut etiam consuetudo mala. Namque Neglectis urenda filix innascitur agris.

6 Illuc prævertamur: amatorem quod amicæ Turpia decipiunt cæcum vitia, aut etiam ipsa hæc

Delectant veluti Balbinum polypus Hagnæ:
Vellem in amicitia sic erraremus; & isti
Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum.
At, pater ut nati, sic noc debemus amici,
Si quod sit vitium, non fastidire. Strabonem
Appellat pætum pater: & pullum, male parvus
Si cui filius est: ut abortivus fuit olim
Sisyphus, hunc varum, distortis cruribus, illum
Baloutit scaurum, pravis fultum male talis.
Parcius hic vivit? frugì dicatur. Ineptus,
Et jactantior bic paullo est? concinnus amicis
Postulat ut videatur. At est turculentior, atque
Plus æquo liber? simplex, fortisque habeatur.
Caldior est? acres inter numeretur. Opinor,
Hæc res & jungit, junctos & servat amicos,

Another child's abortive-he believes
Nature most perfect in diminutives;
And men of ev'ry rank with one accord
Salute each crooked rascal with my lord.
(For bandy legs, hump-back, and knocking knee,
Are all excessive signs of qty.)

Thus let us judge our friends-if Scrub subsist
Too meanly, Scrub is an economist;
And if Tom Tinkle is full loud and pert;
He aims at wit, and does it to divert.
Largus is apt to bluster, but you'll find
'Tis owing to his magnitude of mind:
Lollius is passionate, and loves a whore,
Spirit and constitution!-nothing more
Ned to a bullying peer is ty'd for life,
And in commendam holds a scolding wife;
Slave to a fool's caprice, and woman's will;
But patience, patience, is a virtue still!
Ask of Chamont a kingdom for a fish,
He'll give you three rather than spoil a dish;
Nor pride, nor luxury is in the case,
But hospitality-an't please your grace.
Should a great gen'ral give a drab a pension-
Meanness!-the devil-'tis perfect condescension.
Such ways make many friends, and make friends
long,

Or else my good friend Horace reasons wrong.
But we alas! e'en virtuous deeds invert,
And into vice misconstrue all desert.
See we a man of modesty and merit,
Sober and meek-we swear he has no spirit;
We call him stupid, who with caution breaks
His silence, and will think before he speaks.
Fidelio treads the path of life with care,
And eyes his footsteps; for he fears a snare.
His wary way still scandal misapplies,
And calls him subtle, who's no more than wise.
If any man is unconstrain'd and free,
As oft, my Lælius, I have been to thee,
When rudely to thy room I chance to scour,
And interrupt thee in the studious hour,
From Coke and Lyttleton thy mind unbend,
With more familiar nonsense of a friend;
Talk of my friendship, and of thy desert,
Show thee my works, and candidly impart
At once the product of my head and heart,
Nasutus calls me fool, and clownish bear,
Nor (but for perfect candour) stops he there.
Ah! what unthinking, heedless things are
men,

↑ At nos virtutes ipsas invertimus, atque Sincerum cupimus vas incrustare. Probus quis Nobiscum vivit? multum est demissus homo ille.

Tardo, cognomen pingui damus. Hic fugit omnes
Insidias, nullique malo latus obdit apertum ?
(Cun genus hoc inter vitæ versetur, ubi acris
Invidia, atque vigent ubi crimina) pro bene sano,
Ac non incauto, fictum astutumque vocamus.
Simplicior, quis, qualem me sæpe libenter
Obtulerim tibi, Mæcenas, ut forte legentem
Aut tacitum impellat quovis sermone? molestus!
Communi sensu plane caret, inquimus. 8 Eheu!
Quam temere in nosmet legem sancimus iniquam?
Nam vitiis nemo sine nascitur: optimus ille est,
Quí minimis urgetur. Amicus dulcis, ut æquum
est,

Cum mea compenset vitiis bona, pluribus hisce,

T' enact such laws as must themselves condemn!
In every human soul some vices spring
(For fair perfection is no mortal thing)
Whoe'er is with the fewest faults endu❜d,
Is but the best of what cannot be good.
Then view me, friend, in an impartial light,
Survey the good and bad, the black and white;
And if you find me, sir, upon the whole,
To be an honest and ingenuous soul,
By the same rule I'll measure you again,
And give you your allowance to a grain.
'Tis friendly and 'tis fair, on either hand,
To grant th' indulgence we ourselves demand;
If on your hump we cast a fav'ring eye,
You must excuse all those who are awry.
In short, since vice or folly, great or small,
Is more or less inherent in us all,
Whoe'er offends, our censure let us guide,
With a strong bias to the candid side;
Nor (as the stoics did in ancient times)
Rank little foibles with enormous crimes.

9 If, when your butler, e'er he brings a disli,
Shou'd lick his fingers, or shou'd drop a fish,
Or from the side-board filch a cup of ale,
Enrag'd you send the puny thief to gaol;
You'd be (methink) as infamous an oaf,
As that immense portentous scoundrel-
Yet worse by far (if worse at all can be)
In folly and iniquity is he,

Who, for some trivial, social, well-meant joke,
Which candour shou'd forget as soon as spoke,
Wou'd shun his friend, neglectful and unkind,
As if old parson Packthread was behind,
Who drags up all his visitors by force,
And without mercy reads them his discourse.
10 If sick at heart, and heavy at the head,
My drunken friend should reel betimes to bed,
And in the morn, with affluent discharge,
Should sign and seal his residence at large;

Si modo plura mihi bona sunt, inclinet; amari
Si volet hac lege, in trutina ponetur eadem.
Qui ne tuberibus propriis offendat amicum
Postulat; ignoscat verrucis illius. Æquum est,
Peccatis veniam poscentem reddere rursus.
Denique, quatenus excidi penitus vitium iræ,
Cætera item nequeunt stultis hærentia; cur non
Ponderibus, modulisque suis ratio utitur? ac res
Ut quæque est, ita suppliciis delicta coercet ?

9 Si quis eum servum, patinam qui tollere jussus,

Semesos pisces, tepidumque ligurierit jus,
In cruce suffigat; Labeone insanior inter
Sanos dicatur. Quanto hoc furiosius atque
Majus peccatum est paullum deliquit amicus,
(Quod nisi concedas, habeare insuavis, acerbus ;)
Odisti, & fugis, ut Drusonem debitor æris?
Qui nisi cum tristes misero venere Calenæ,
Mercedem aut nummos unde unde extricat

amaras

Porrecto jugulo historias, captivus ut, audit.

10 Comminxit lectum potus, mensave catillun Evandri manibus tritum dejecit: ob hanc rem, Aut positum ante mea quia pullum in parte catini

Sustulit esuriens, minus hoc jucundus amicus Sit mihi? quid faciam, si furtum fecerit ? aut of * An infamous attorney.

Or should be in some passionate debate,
By way of instance, break an earthen plate;
Wou'd I forsake him for a piece of delph ?
No not for China's wide domain itself.

If toys like these were cause of real grief,
What shou'd I do, or whither seek relief,

Suppose him perjur'd faithless, pimp, or thief?" Away-a foolish knavish tribe you are,

Who falsely put all vices on a par.

From this fair reason her assent withdraws,
F'en sordid interest gives up the cause,
That mother of our customs and our laws.
When first yon golden Sun array'd the east,
Small was the difference 'twixt man and beast;
With hands, with nails, with teeth, with clubs
they fought,
[wrought
'Till malice was improv'd, and deadlier weapons
Language at length, and words experience found,
And sense obtain'd a vehicle in sound. [built,
Then wholesome laws were fram'd, and towns were
And justice seiz'd the lawless vagrant's guilt;
And theft, adultery, and fornication, [fashions
Were punish'd much, forsooth, tho' much in
"For long before fair Helen's fatal charms
Had many a

Hiatus magnus lacrymabilis

set the world in arms. But kindly kept by no historian's care, They all, goodlack, have perish'd to an hair. But be that as it may, yet in all climes, There's diff'rent punishment for diff'rent crimes. "Hold,blockhead, hold—this sure is not the way, For all alike I'd lash, and all I'd slay," Cries W******N, "if I'd sovereign sway." Have sovereign sway, and an imperial robe, With fury sultanate* o'er half the globe. Meanwhile, if I from each indulgent friend, Obtain remission, when I chance t' offend, Why, in return, I'll make the balance even, And, for forgiving, they shall be forgiven.

Prodiderit commissa fide? sponsumve negarit? Queis paria esse fere placuit peccata, laborant, Cum ventum ad verum est; sensus, moresque repugnant

Atque ipsa utilitas, justi prope mater, & æqui.
Cum prorepserunt primis animalia terris,
Mutum & turpe pecus, glandem atque cubilia
propter,

Unguibus, & pugnis, dein fustibus, atque ita porro
Pugnabant armis, quæ post fabricaverat usus:
Donec verba, quibus voces, sensusque notarent,
Nominaque invenere; dehinc absistere bello,
Oppida cœperunt munire, & ponere leges;
Ne quis fur esset, neu latro, neu quis adulter.
Nam fuit ante Helenam cunnus teterrima

belli

Causa: sed ignotis perierunt mortibus illi, Quos Venerem incertam rapientes more ferarum Viribus editior cædebat, ut in grege taurus.

dum tu quadrante lavatum Rex ibis, neque te quisquam stipator, ineptum Præter Crispinum, sectabitur: & mihi dulces Ignoscent, si quid peccavero stultus, amici:

A word coined in the manner of Mr. Warburton,

12 With zeal I'll love, be courteous e'en to strife, More blest than emperors in private life.

AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO
OTHELLO, AS IT WAS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-
ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE, ON THURSDAY THE
7TH OF MARCH, 1751, BY PERSONS OF DIS-
TINCTION, FOR THEIR DIVERSION.

WHILE mercenary actors tread the stage,
And hireling scribblers lash or lull the age,
Our's be the task t' instruct, and entertain,
Without one thought of glory or of gain.
Virtue's her own-from no external cause-
She gives, and she demands the self-applause:
Home to her breast she brings the heart-felt
bays,

Heedless alike of profit, and of praise.
This now perhaps is wrong-yet this we know,
'Twas sense and truth a century ago:
When Britain, with transcendant glory crown'd,
For high achievements, as for wit renown'd,
Cull'd from each growing grace the purest part,
And cropt the flowers from every blooming art,
Our noblest youths would then embrace the task
Of comic humour, or the mystic masque.
'Twas theirs t' encourage worth, and give to bards
What now is spent in boxing and in cards:
Good sense their pleasure-virtue still their
guide,

And English magnanimity-their pride.
Methinks I see with Fancy's magic eye,
The shade of Shakespeare, in yon azure sky.
On yon high cloud behold the bard advance,
Piercing all Nature with a single glance:
In various attitudes around him stand
The Passions, waiting for his dread command.
First kneeling Love before his feet appears,
And musically sighing melts in tears.
Near him fell Jealousy with fury burns,
And into storms the amorous breathings turns;
Then Hope with heavenward look, and Joy draws

Prudella first in parody begins,

(For nonsense and buffoonery are twins)
"Can beaux the court for theatres exchange?
I swear by Heaven 'tis strange, 'tis passing
strange;

And very whimsical, and mighty dull,
And pitiful, and wond'rous pitiful:

I wish I had not heard it"-blessed dame!
Whene'er she speaks her audience wish the same.
Next Neddy Nicely-" Fye, O fye, good lack,
A nasty man to make his face all black."
Then lady Stiffneck shows her pious rage,
And wonders we shou'd act-upon a stage.
"Why, ma'am," says Coquetilla, "a disgrace?
Merit in any form may show her face:
In this dull age the male things ought to play,
To teach them what to do, and what to say."
In short, they all with diff'rent cavils cram us,
And only are unanimous to damn us:
But still there are a fair judicious few,
Who judge unbiass'd, and with candour view;
Who value honesty, though clad in buff,
And wit, though dress'd in an old English ruff.
Behold them here-I beaming sense descry,
Shot from the living lustre of each eye.
Such meaning smiles each blooming face adorn,
As deck the pleasure-painted brow of morn;
And show the person of each matchless fair,
Though rich to rapture, and above compare,
Is, ev'n with all the skill of Heav'n design'd,
But an imperfect image of their mind;
While chastity unblemish'd and unbrib'd
Adds a majestic mien that scorns to be describ'd:
Such we will vaunt, and only such as these,
'Tis our ambition, and our fame to please.

EPILOGUE TO THE APPRENTICE.

(Enters reading a Play Bill.)

A VERY pretty bill—as I'm alive!
The part of-nobody-by Mrs. Clive!
A paltry scribbling fool-to leave me out—
He'll say, perhaps he thought I cou'd not spout.
Malice and envy to the last degree!
And why?-l wrote a farce as well as he,
And fairly ventur'd it-without the aid

Of prologue dress'd in black, and face in masquerade;

Oh! Pit-have pity-see how I'm dismay'd!
Poor soul! this canting stuff will never do.
Unless like Bayes he bring his hangman too.
But granting that from these same obsequies,
Some pickings to our bard in black arise;
Should your applause to joy convert his fear,
As Pallas turns to feast-Lardella's bier;
Yet 'twould have been a better scheme by half
T" have thrown his weeds aside, and learnt with
me to laugh.

1 cou'd have shown him, had he been inclin❜d,
A spouting junto of the female kind.
There dwells a milliner in yonder row,

Well dress'd, full voic'd,and nobly built for show,
Who, when in rage she scolds at Sue and Sarah,
Damn'd,damn'd dissembler !-thinks she's more
than Zara.

She has a daughter too that deals in lace,
And sings-O ponder well-and Chevy Chase,
And fain wou'd fill the fair Ophelia's place.
And in her cock'd up hat, and gown of camblet,'
Presumes on something-touching the lord
Hamlet.

A cousin too she has with squinting eyes,
With waddling gait,and voice like London Cries;
Who for the stage too short by half a story,
Acts Lady Townly-thus-in all her glory.
And while she's traversing her scanty room,
Cries-" Lord! my lord, what can I do at home!"
In short, we've girls enough for all the fellows,
The ranting, whining, starting, and the jealous,
The Hotspurs, Romeos, Hamlets, and Othellos.
Oh! little do these silly people know,
What dreadful trials-actors undergo.
Myself-who most in harmony delight,
Am scolding here from morning until night.
Then take advice from me, ye giddy things,
Ye royal milliners, ye apron'd kings;
Young men beware, and shun our slippery ways,
Study arithmetic, and shun our plays;
And you, ye girls, let not our tinsel train
Enchant your eyes, and turn your madd'ning
brain;

Be timely wise, for oh! be sure of this;
A shop, with virtue, is the height of bliss.

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MR. SHUTER, AT COVENT-GARDEN, AFTER THE PLAY OF THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS, ACTED FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE MIDDLESEX HOSPITAL FOR LYING-IN WOMEN, 1755, IN THE CHARACTER OF

A MAN-MIDWIFE.

(Shakes a purse.)

1

This day comes honest Taffy to my house, "Cot pless her, her has sav'd her poy and spouse; Her say'd her Gwinnifrid, or death had swallow'd her, [Cadwallader." Tho' creat crand creat crand crand child of Cries Patrick Touzl'em, "I am bound to pray, You've sav'd my Sue in your same physic way, And further shall I thank you yesterday." Then Sawney came and thank'd me for my love, (I very readily excus'd his glove)

He bless'd the mon, e'en by St. Andrew's cross, "Who cur'd his bonny bearn and blithsome lass."

But merriment and mimicry apart, Thanks to each bounteous hand and gen'rous heart

Of those, who tenderly take pity's part;
Who in good-natur'd acts can sweetly grieve,
Swift to lament, but swifter to relieve.
Thanks to the lovely fair ones, types of Heaven,
Who raise and beautify the bounty given;
But chief to him in whom distress confides,
Who o'er this noble plan so gloriously presides.

The earl, afterwards duke, of Northumber land.

DE ARTE CRITICA.

Dieru difficile est, an sit dementia major
Egisse invitá vatem criticumne Minervâ;
Ille tamen certe venia tibi dignior errat
Qui lassat, quam qui seducit in avia, sensus.
Sunt, qui absurda canunt; sed enim stultissima
stultos

Quam longe exuperat criticorum natio vates;
Se solum exhibuit quondam, melioribus annis
Natus hebes, ridendum; at nunc musa improba
prolem

Innumeram gignit, quæ mox sermone soluto
Equiparet stolidos versus, certetque stupendo.
Nobis judicium, veluti quæ dividit horas
Machina, construitur, motus non omnibus idem,
Non pretium, regit usque tamen sua quemque,
Poetas

Divite perpaucos venâ donavit Apollo,
Et criticis recte sapere est rarissima virtus;
Arte in utraque nitent felices indole soli,
Musaque quos placido nascentes lumine vidit.
Ille alios melius, qui inclaruit ipse, docebit,
Jureque quam meruit, poterit tribuisse coronam.
Scriptores (fateor) fidunt propriæ nimis orti,
Nonne autem criticos pravus favor urget ibidem?
At vero propius si stemus, cuique fatendum est,
Judicium quoddam Natura inseverit olim :
Illa diem certe dubiam diffundere callet
Et, strictim descripta licet, sibi linea constat.
Sed minimum ut specimen, quod pictor doctus
adumbrat,

Deterius tibi fiat eo mage, quo mage vilem
Inducas isti fucum, sic mentis honestæ
Doctrina effigiem macula bit prava decoram.
His inter cæcas mens illaqueata scholarum

LUCRET.

AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
Some few in that, but numbers err in this,
Ten censure wrong, for one who writes amiss.
A fool might once himself alone expose,
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own. In poets as true genius is but rare,

1

True taste as seldom is the critic's share;
Both must alike from Heaven derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well.
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true;
But are not critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find,
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, though touch'd but faintly, are drawn
right.

'Qui scribit artificiose, ab aliis commode scripta facile intelligere poterit.

Cic. ad Herenn. b. 4. Omnes tacito quodam sensu, sine ullâ arte, aut ratione, quæ sint in artibus ac rationibus recta ac prava dijudicant.

CIC. de Orat. lib. 3.