y preach?
Is grey experience suited to her youth?
Do solemn sentiments become that mouth?
Bid her be grave, those lips should rebel prove
To every theme that slanders mirth or love.
Yet, thus adorn'd with every graceful art
To charm the fancy and yet reach the heart--
Must we displace her? And instead advance
The goddess of the woful countenance--
The sentimental Muse!--Her emblems view,
The Pilgrim's Progress, and a sprig of rue!
View her--too chaste to look like flesh and blood--
Primly portray'd on emblematic wood!
There, fix'd in usurpation, should she stand,
She'll snatch the dagger from her sister's hand:
And having made her votaries weep a flood,
Good heaven! she'll end her comedies in blood--
Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown!
Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down;
While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the scene,
Shall stab herself--or poison Mrs. Green.
Such dire encroachments to prevent in time,
Demands the critic's voice--the poet's rhyme.
Can our light scenes add strength to holy laws!
Such puny patronage but hurts the cause:
Fair virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask;
And moral truth disdains the trickster's mask
For here their favourite stands, whose brow severe
And sad, claims youth's respect, and pity's tear;
Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth creates,
Can point a poniard at the guilt she hates.

* * * * * * * * * * *

THE RIVALS

* * * * * * * * * * *

ACT I

* * * * * * *

Scene I.--A street.
[Enter THOMAS; he crosses the stage; FAG follows, looking after him.]

FAG
What! Thomas! sure 'tis he?--What! Thomas! Thomas!

THOMAS
Hey!--Odd's life! Mr. Fag!--give us your hand, my old fellow-servant.

FAG
Excuse my glove, Thomas:--I'm devilish glad to see you, my lad. Why, my
prince of charioteers, you look as hearty!--but who the deuce thought
of seeing you in Bath?

THOMAS
Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all
come.

FAG
Indeed!

THOMAS
Ay, master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a
visit;--so he'd a mind to gi't the slip, and whip! we were all off at
an hour's warning.

FAG
Ay, ay, hasty in every thing, or it would not be Sir Anthony Absolute!

THOMAS
But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young master? Odd! Sir Anthony will
stare to see the Captain here!

FAG
I do not serve Captain Absolute now.

THOMAS
Why sure!

FAG
At present I am e