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LOVET.

Cease 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.

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Verbatim from BOILEAU.

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Un Jour dit un Auteur, etc.

NCE fays an Author, (where I need not fay) Two Trav❜lers found an Oyster in their way; Both fierce, both hungry; the difpute grew ftrong, While Scale in hand Dame Justice past along. Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws, Explain'd the matter and would win the caufe. Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful Right, Takes, opens, fwallows it before their fight. The cause of strife 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 Queftion of Mrs. How E.

HAT IS PRUDERY?

WHA

'Tis a Beldam,

Seen with Wit and Beauty feldom.
'Tis a fear that ftarts at shadows.
'Tis, (no, 'tisn't) like Mifs Meadows.
'Tis a Virgin hard of Feature,
Old, and void of all good-nature;
Lean and fretful; would feem wife;
Yet plays the fool before fhe 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,

USE, 'tis enough: at length thy labour
ends,

And thou fhalt live, for Buckingham commends.
Let Crowds of Critics now my verse 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 i 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.

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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 maftery has the Poet executed, in this be nevolent irony, that which he fuppofed Dennis himself, had he the wit to fee, would have the ingenuity to own: This dreaded Satʼrift, Dennis will confess,

Foe to his pride, but Friend to his Difìress. VER. 7. Was there a Chief, etc.] The fine figure of the Commander in that capital Picture of Belifarius at Chifwick, fupplied the Poet with this beautiful idea.

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