Parties may rail, and bully Courtiers Graces,
But fawning, well-tim'd Ballads, shou'd get_ Poets _Places.
Your Absence lately, how we all have mourn'd;
Some pray'd, some fasted too, till you return'd:
But now those melancholly Days retire,
And eager Wit restrain'd, darts fiercer Fire:
Favours unlimited we hope you'll grant us,
And not let dear-bought_ Foreigners _supplant us.
This_ PLAY, _our Author hopes, may please the Town, }
Not that He claims a Merit of his own,_ }
But half our_ Comick Bards _are dead and gone. }
Things scarce attainable more nice appear_;
Coffee _was scarce a Treat, till very dear.
To raise his Genius, with some pains he strove,
As we in Acting shou'd each Day improve.
But as Whims only seem to please this Age, }
If Wit and Humour won't your Hearts engage,_ }
We'll have a Moving-Picture on the Stage. }


_F I N I S._



(final leaf, recto)


William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California

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