PROLOGUE

TO THE

COMEDY

CALL'D

Chitt-Chatt.

HE ugly Beau by frequent use of Glass,
Instead of hating, comes to like his Face,
And grows the Plague of ev'ry publick Place..

Juft fo it fares with Fops of Phabus Strain,'

They read their Nonsense o'er and o'er again,
And find ftrange Charms in what gives others Pain.

This from our Author, I am bid to say,
As fome Excufe for his firft Coup d' Effay,
At once he boldly foars to highest Life,
And paints a very, very modifh Wife.

In whofe Example this fad Truth appears,
The Husband's hated for his Worth, not Years;
They crave for Fops, as Girls green Fruit devour,
Not that 'tis young, but that they love what's fow'r.
But one Word more for these loofe following Scenes;
Ye all will ask what 'tis the Scribbler means?
Where is the Order, Method, the Design,

And all that makes a well-wrought Drama shine?
Why, if his Conduct merits not Applause,
Confider, Sirs, they are your Lives he draws.
As for his Wit, if that be under-grown,
Make it not lefs, by making it your own,
And then for Moral: Faith, like you, he has none.
His Plot, he's fure, will plead for ev'ry Fault,
Such deep Designs no Spanish Prieft e'er thought,
Nor darker Machiavel to Borgia taught.

Obferve him well, ye Learn'd in State-Intrigues,
Who deal in Politicks and Powder'd-Wigs:

Your Schemes, as foon as form'd, are all reveal'd;

But here the Action's done, and yet the Plot's conceal'd.

Ο Ν

On the Late

QUEEN'
Birth-Day.

ROM this Aufpicious Day three Kingdoms
Date

The fairest Favours of indulgent Fate:

From this the Months in radiant Circle run,

As Stars receive their Luftre from the Sun.

To You the Scepters of all Europe Bend,
The Victor Thofe revere, and Thefe the Friend;
Your filken Reigns the willing Nations crave,
For 'tis your lov'd Prerogative to fave.

Mild amidst Triumphs, Victory bestows
On You Renown, and Freedom on your Foes:
Obfervant of Your Will, the Goddess brings
Palms in her Hand, and healing in her Wings,

But as the brightest Beams and gentleft Show'rs,
Were once referv'd for Eden's op'ning Flow'rs;
So, tho' remoter Realms Your Influence fhare,
BRITANNIA boafts to be Your Darling-Care.
By Your great Wisdom, and refiftless Might,
Abroad we Conquer, and at Home Unite.

What Pow'r can then forbid the Warrior QUEEN,
To wave the Red-Crofs Banner o'er the Seine?
Others for Titles urge the Soldiers Toil,
Or chiefly feek the Foe to seize the Spoil;
But You for Right Your pious Arms imploy,
And conquer to Reftore and not Destroy:
Vouchfafing Audience to Your fuppliant Foes,
You long to give the lab'ring World repofe;
Concurring Juftice waits from You the Word,
Pleas'd, when You fix the Scales, to fheath the Sword.

From this propitious Omen we presage
Unnumber'd Bleffings to the coming Age:
Establish'd Faith, the Daughter of the Skies,
Shall fee New Temples by your Bounty rife:
Commerce beneath the Southern Stars fhall thrive,
Intestine Feuds expire, and Arts revive;

Safe

Safe in their Shades the Mufes fhall remain,
And fing the milder Glories of your Reign.

So, whilft offended Heav'n exerts its Power, Swift fly the Light'nings, loud the Cannons roar; But when our Incense reconciles the Skies,

Again the radiant Beams begin to rise;

Soft Zephyrs gently waft the Clouds away,
And fragrant Flow'rs perfume the dawning Day;
The Groves around rejoyce with ecchoing Strain,
And golden Plenty covers all the Plain.

PRO