Her Smiles may Mira's winning Sweetness grace,
And Mira's Lillies bloffom in her Face:

The fame her Features, be her Mind the same,
And Mira's Virtues add to Mira's Fame.

Then, to complete the Workmanship Divine,
Give her a Heart as true and fond as mine:
With mutual Flames our faithful Bofomes warm;
Let her like Thyrfis love, like Mira charm.
I ask no more; in Love completely blest,
Let Avarice and Ambition take the reft.

PROLOGUE

ΤΟ ΤΗΕ

Univerfity of Oxford,

of

On the Acting of

CA

fhall fit,

T O.

HAT Kings henceforth hall Reign, what
States be free,

Is fix'd at length by ANNA's just Decree:
Whofe Brows the Mufes facred Wreath

Is left to you, the Arbiters of Wir.

With beating Hearts the Rival Poets wait,
Till you, Athenians, shall decide their Fate;

Secure,

Secure, when to these learned Seats they come,
Of equal Judgment, and impartial Doom.

Poor is the Player's Fame, whofe whole Renown
Is but the Praise of a Capricious Town;
While with Mock-Majefty, and fancy'd Power,
He ftruts in Robes, the Monarch of an Hour.
Oft wide of Nature muft he act a Part,

Make Love in Tropes, in Bombaft break his Heart
In Turn and Simile refign his Breath,

And Rhyme and Quibble in the Pangs of Death.
We blush, when Plays like these receive Applaufe,
And laugh, in fecret, at the Tears we caufe;
With honeft Scorn our own Succefs difdain,
A worthless Honour, and inglorious Gain.

No trifling Scenes at OXFORD fhall appear; Well, what We blush to Act, may you to hear. To you our fam'd, our Standard PLAYS we bring, The Work of Poets, whom you taught to Sing: Tho' crown'd with Fame, they dare not think it Due, Nor take the Laurel 'till beftow'd by You. Great CATO's felf, the Glory of the Stage, Who charms, corrects, exalts, and fires the Age, Begs here he may be try'd by ROMAN Laws: To you, O FATHERS, he submits his Cause; He refts not in the People's Gen'ral Voice, 'Till you, the Senate, have confirm'd his Choice.

Fine is the Secret, delicate the Art,

To wind the Paffions and command the Heart;
For fancy'd Ills to force our Tears to flow.
And make the gen'rous Soul in love with Woe
To raise the Shades of Heroes to our View,
Rebuild fall'n Empires, and old Time renew.
How hard the Task! how rare the God-like Rage!
None fhould prefume to dietate to the Stage,
But fuch as boast a great extenfive Mind,
Enrich'd by Nature, and by Art refin'd;

Who from the Ancient Stores their Knowledge bring
And tafted early of the Mufe's Spring.

May none pretend upon her Throne to fit,

But fuch, as fprung from you, are born to Wit: Chos'n by the Mob, their lawless Claim we flight: . Yours is, the Old Hereditary Right..

210

TO

HE Mufe that oft; with facred Raptures fir'd,
Has gen'rous. Thoughts of Liberty infpir'd
And boldly rifing for Britannia's Laws,

Engag'd great Cato in her Country's Caufe,

On you fubmiffive waits, with Hopes affur'd,

By whom the mighty Bleffing ftands fecur'dana'd

And all the Glories, that our Age adornan l Are promis'd to a People yet unborn.

No