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"And you, ye knockers, that with brazen throat "The welcome vifitor's approach denote, "Farewell!-all Quality of high renown, "Pride, Pomp, and circumstance of glorious Town, "Farewell!-your revels I partake no more, "And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er.” -All this I told our Bard; he fmil'd, and faid

'twas clear

I ought to play deep Tragedy next year.
Meanwhile he drew wife Morals from his Play,
And in these folemn periods ftalk'd away.

"Bleft were the fair, like you her faults who ftopt,
"And clos'd her follies when the curtain dropt!
"No more in vice or error to engage,

"Or play the Fool at large on Life's great Stage!"



On the opening of the THEATRE ROYAL in the HAYMARKET, May 15, 1777.

Spoken by Mr. PALMER.

PRIDE, by a thoufand arts, vain honours claims,

And gives to empty nothings pompous names. Theatrick Dealers thus would fain feem great, And every Playhouse grows a mighty State: To fancied heights howe'er mock monarchs foar, A Manager's a Trader-nothing more. You (whom they court) their cuftomers-and then We players-poor devils!-are the journeymen.

While Two Great Warehouses, for Winter ufe,
Eight months huge Bales of Merchandise produce,
Out with the Swallow comes our Summer Bayes,
To fhew his Taffata and Luteftring plays;
A choice affortment of flight goods prepares,
The smallest Haberdasher of Small Wares.

In Laputa we're told a grave Projector,
-A mighty Schemer, like our New Director-

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Once form'd a plan-and 'twas a deep one, firs
To draw the Sun-beams out of Cucumbers.
So whilft lefs vent'rous managers retire,

Our Salamander thinks to live in fire.

A playhouse Quidnunc-and no Quidnuncs wifer Reading our play-bills in the Advertiser, Cries "Hey! what's here? In the Haymarket a play, To fweat the Publick in the midst of May? Give me fresh air!" then goes, and pouts alone In country lodgings-by the Two-mile Stone: There fits, and chews the cud of his disgust, Broil'd in the fun, and blinded by the duft.

Dearee, fays Mrs. Inkle, let us go To the Hay-market to-night and see the Show! Pfha, woman, cries old Inkle, you're a fool : We'll walk to Hornfey, and enjoy the cool. So faid, to finish the domestick ftrife, Forth waddle the fat spouse and fatter wife : And as they tug up Highgate-Hill together, He cries" delightful walking-charming weather!"

Now, with the napkin underneath the chin, Unbutton'd Cits their Turtle feast begin, And plunge full knuckle-deep thro' thick and thin; Throw down fish, flesh, fowl, paftry, cuftard, jelly, And make a Salmagundy of their belly.

" More

"More Chian-Pepper !-Punch, another rummer! "So cool and pleasant-eating in the Summer !"

To antient Geographers it was not known Mortals could live beneath the Torrid Zone: But we, tho' toiling underneath the Line, Must make our Hay, now while the weather's fine. Your good Old Hay-maker, long here employ'd, The funshine of your fmiles who still enjoy'd, The fields which long he mow'd will not forfake, Nor quite forego the Scythe, the Fork, and Rake, But take the field, ev'n in the hottest day, And kindly help us to get in our hay.

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Spoken by Mr. PARSONS in the Character of PAUL PRIG, in Mr. FooTE's Comedy of THE COZENERS.


September, 1777;

NCE more from Ludgate-Hill behold Paul Prig! The fame spruce air you fee! fame coat! fame wig!

A Mercer smart and dapper, all allow,

As ever at shop door fhot off a bow.
This fummer-for I love a little Prance-
This fummer, gentlefolks, I've been to France,
To mark the Fashions and to learn to dance.
I, and dear Mrs. Prig-the firft of Graces!
At Calais in the Diligence took places;
Travell'd thro' Boulogne, Amiens, and Chantilly,
All in a line-as ftraight as Piccadilly!
To Paris come, their dreffes made me ftare-
Their fav'rite colour is the French Queen's Hair!
They're all fo fine, so fhabby, and so gay,
They look like Chimney-fweepers on May-day!
Silks of all colours in the rainbow there!
A Jofeph's coat appears the common wear.



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