With Scytbian ftores, and trinkets deeply laden,
He this way fteers his course, in hopes of trading
Yet ere he lands he as order'd me before,
To make an observation on the shore,
Where are we driven ? our reckoning sure is loft!
This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast.
Lord, what a sultry climate am I under!
Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder :

(Upper gallery.) There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em

(Pit.) Here trees of stately fize--and billing turtles in 'em

(Balconies.) Here ill-conditioned oranges abound- (Stage.) And apples, bitter apples strew the ground:

(Tafting them.) The inhabitants are canibals I fear : I heard a hifting-there are serpents here ! O, there the people are-best keep my distance ; Our Captain (gentle natives) craves aflittance; Our ship's well stor'd-in yonder creek we've laid her, His honour is no mercenary trader. This is his first adventure, lend him aid, And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.


His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from

Equally fit for gallantry and war.
What, no reply to promises so ample ?
I'd best step back-and order up a sample.

Ε Ρ Ι.

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OLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your

nonsense ;
I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.
My pride forbids it ever should be said,
My heels eclips'd the honours of my head;
That I found humour in a pyeball veft,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest.

[Takes off his mas.
Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth?
Nature disowns, and reason fcorns thy mirth,
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps,
The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps.
How hast thou fill'd the scene with all thy brood,
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd !


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Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses,
Whose only plot it is to break our noses;
Whilst from below the trap-door Dæmons rise,
And from above the dangling deities;
And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew?
May rofin'd lightning blast me, if I do!
No-I will act, l’ll vindicate the stage:
Shakespeare himself shall feel my tragic rage,
Off! off! vile trappings! a new paffion reigns!
The mad'ning monarch revels in my veins.
Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme:
Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!

soft'twas but a dream.
Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating
If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.
'Twas thus that Æsop's ftag, a creature blameless,
Yet something vain, like one that Thall be nameless,
Once on the margin of a fountain stood,
And cavill'd at his image in the food.
“ The deuce confound," he cries, “thefe drumstick

< fhanks,
“ They never have my gratitude nor thanks;

They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead! " But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head.


VOL. 1,

" How

“ How piercing is that eye! how fleek that brow!
“ My horns! I'm told horns are the fashion now."
Whilft thus he spoke, aftonilh'd! to his view,
Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew.
Hoicks ! hark forward! came thundering from be-

He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind:
He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways;
He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.
At length his filly head, so priz'd before,
Is taught his former folly to deplore;
Whilft his strong limbs conspire to set him free,
And at one bound he faves himself, like me.

[Taking a jump through the page door.


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