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LOVET.

Ceafe your contention, which has been too long; I grow impatient, and the Tea's too ftrong. Attend, and yield to what I now decide; The Equipage fhall grace SMILINDA's Side: The Snuff-Box to CARDELIA I decree, Now leave complaining, and begin your Tea.

110

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Verbatim from BOILEAU.

Ο

Un Jour dit un Auteur, etc.

NCE fays an Author, (where I need not say) Two Trav❜lers found an Oyster in their way; Both fierce, both hungry; the dispute grew strong, While Scale in hand Dame Justice paft along. Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws, Explain'd the matter and would win the cause. Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful Right, Takes, opens, fwallows it before their fight. The cause of ftrife remov'd fo rarely well, There take (fays Juftice) take ye each a Shell. We thrive at Westminster on Fools like you: 'Twas a fat Oyfter-Live in peace-Adieu,

ANSWER

ANSWER to the following. Question of Mrs. How E.

HAT IS PRUDERY?

WHAT

'Tis a Beldam,

Seen with Wit and Beauty feldom.
'Tis a fear that starts at fhadows.
'Tis, (no, 'tisn't) like Mifs Meadows.
'Tis a Virgin hard of Feature,
Old, and void of all good-nature;
Lean and fretful; would seem wife;
Yet plays the fool before the dies.
'Tis an ugly envious Shrew,
That rails at dear Lepell and You.

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Occafioned by fome Verfes of his Grace the Duke of BUCK

INGHAM.

MUSE, 'tis enough; at length thy labour

ends,

And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.
Let Crowds of Critics now my verfe affail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail:
This more than pays whole years of thankless pain,
Time, health, and fortune are not loft in vain.
Sheffield approves, confenting Phoebus bends,
And I and Malice from this hour are friends,

A PRO

A

PROLOGUE

By Mr. POPE,

To a Play for Mr. DENNIS'S Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great Distress, a little before his Death.

A

S when that Hero, who in each Campaign, Had brav'd the Goth, and many a Vandal flain, Lay Fortune-ftruck, a fpectacle of Woe! Wept by each Friend, forgiv'n by ev'ry Foe: Was there a gen'rous, a reflecting mind, But pitied BELISARIUS old and blind? Was there a Chief but melted at the Sight? A common Soldier, who but clubb'd his Mite?

NOTES.

5

VER. 6. But pitied Belifarius, etc.] Nothing was ever more happily imagined than this allufion, or finelier conducted. And the continued pleafantry fo delicately touched, that it took nothing from the felf fatisfaction the Critic had in his merit, or the Audience in their charity. With fo much mastery has the Poet executed, in this be nevolent irony, that which he fuppofed Dennis himfelf, had he the wit to fee, would have the ingenuity to own: This dreaded Sat'rift, Dennis will confefs, Foe to his pride, but Friend to his Diftrefs. VER. 7. Was there a Chief, etc.] The fine figure of the Commander in that capital Picture of Belifarius at Chiswick, fupplied the Poet with this beautiful idea.

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