Mun. Me, curfe a heart; I want noting wid herwhat the fay I want for

Leon. Urfula, the gentleman fays he has fome friends waiting for him at the other fide of the garden-wall, that will throw him over a ladder made of ropes, which he got up by.

Lean. Then must I go?
Leon. Yes, good Sir, yes.
Lean. A parting kifs?
Leon. No, good Sir, No.
Lean. It must be fo.

By this, and this.

Here I could for ever grow.
'Tis more than mortal blifs.

Leon. Well, now, good-night;
Pray, ease our fright;
You're very bold, Sir;

Let loofe your hold, Sir:

I think you want to fcare me quite.

Lean. Oh fortune's fpight!

Leon. Good night, good night.

Hark! the neighb'ring convent's bell
Tolls the vefper hour to tell;

The clock now chimes;

A thousand times,

A thousand times, farewell.
Enter Don Diego.

Dieg. Stay, Sir, let nobody go out of the room.
Urf. (falling down.) Ah, ah! a ghost, a ghost!
Dieg. Woman, stand up.

Urf. I won't, I won't: murder! don't touch me.
Dieg. Leonora, what am I to think of this?

Leon. Oh, dear Sir, don't kill me.

Dieg. Young man, who are you who have thus clandeftinely, at an unfeafonable hour, broke into my houfe? Am I to confider you as a robber, or how?

Lean. As one whom love has made indifcreet; as one whom love taught industry and art to compafs his defigns. I love the beautiful Leonora, and the me; but farther than what you hear and fee, neither one nor the other have been culpable.

Mun. Hear him, hear him.

Lean.

Lean. Don Diego, you know my father well, Don Alphonfo de Luna; I am a fcholar of this univerfity, and am willing to fubmit to whatever punishment he, thro' your means, shall inflict; but wreak not your vengeance here.

Dieg. Thus then my hopes and cares are at once fruftrated; poffefs'd of what I thought a jewel, I was defirous to keep it for myself; I rais'd up the walls of this houfe to a great height; I barr'd up my windows towards the ftreet; I put double bolts on my doors; I banish'd all that had the fhadow of man or male kind: and I ftood continually centinel over it myself, to guard my fufpicion from furprife: thus fecur'd, I left my watch for one little moment, and in thát moment

Leon. Pray, pray, guardian, let me tell you the ftory, and you'll find I am not to blame.

Dieg. No, child, I only am to blame, who should have confidered that fixteen and fixty agree ill together. But tho' I was too old to be wife, I am not too old to learn; and fo, I fay, fend for a fmith directly, beat all the grates from my windows, take the locks from my doors, and let egrefs and regrefs be given freely.

Leon. And will you be my husband, Sir?

Dieg. No, child, I will give you to one that will make you a better husband: here, young man, take her: if your parents confent, to morrow fhall fee you join'd in the face of the church; and the dowry which I promised her, in cafe of failure on my fide of the contract, shall now go with her as a marriage-portion.

Lean. Signor. this is fo generous

Dieg. No thanks; perhaps I owe acknowledgments to you; but you, Urfula, have no excufe, no paffion to plead and your age fhould have taught you better. I'll give you five hundred crowns, but never let me see you

more.

Mun. And what you give me, Maffa?

Dieg. Bafinadoes for your drunkenness and infidelity. Call in my neighbours and friends. Oh! man! man! how fort is your forefight, how ineffe&tual your prudence, while the very means you ule are deftru&tive of your ends.

Go

Go forge me fetters that shall bind
The rage of the tempestuous wind;
Sound with a needleful of thread
The depth of ocean's steepy bed;
Snap like a twig the oak's tough tree;
Quench Etna with a cup of tea;
In these manœuvres fhew your fkill,
Then hold a woman if you will.
Urf. Perinit me to put in a word.

My mafter here is quite abfurd.
That men should rule our fex is meet;
But art, not force, must do the feat:
Remember what the fable fays,
Where the fun's warm and melting rays,
Soon bring about what wind and rain,
With all their fufs, attempt in vain.
Mun. And, Maffa be not angry, pray,
If Neger man a word should say;
Me have a fable pat as fhe,
Which wid dis matter will agre:
An owl once took it in his head
Wid fome young pretty bird to wed;
But when his worship came to woo,
He could get none be de cuckoo.
Leon. Ye youth felect, who wish to taste
The joys of wedlock pure and chaste,
Ne'er let the mistress and the friend
An abject flave and tyrant end.
While each with tender paffion burns,
Afcend the throne of rule by turns;
And place (to love, to virtue juft)
Security in mutual trust.

Lean. To fum up all you now have heard,
Young men and old, peruse the bard:
A female trufted to your care,
(His rule is pithy, fhort, and clear,)
Be to her faults a little blind;
Be to her virtues very kind d;
Let all her ways be unconfin'd;
And clap your padlock on her mind.

VOL. III.

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САТНА.

TO various things the ftage has been compar'd,
As apt ideas ftrike each humorous bard:
This night, for want of better fimile,
Let this our theatre a tavern be;
The poets vintners, and the waiters we.
So, as the cant and cuftom of the trade is,

}

"You're welcome, gem'min; and kindly welcome, ladies."
To draw in cuftomers, our bills are spread;
You cannot miss the fign, 'tis Shakespeare's head.

From

From this fame bead, this fountain-head divine,
For different palates fprings a different wine!
In which no tricks, to firengthen or to thin 'em-
Neat as imported---no French brandy in "em
Hence, for the choiceft fpirits, flors Champaign;
Whofe fparkling atoms fhoot through every vein,
Then mount in magic vapours to th' enraftur'd brain !
Hence flow, for martial minds, potations ftrong;
And fweet love-potions, for the fair and young.
For you my bearts of oak, for your regale,
There's good old English flingo, mild and ftale.
For bigh, luxurious fouls, with luscious Smack,
There's Sir John Falftaff, is a butt of fack:
And if the ftronger liquors more invite ye,
Bardolph is gin, and Piftol aqua-vitæ.

}

[To the upper gallery.

But fou'd you call for Falfaff, where to find him;
He's
's gone---nor left one cup of jack behind him.

Sunk in bis elbow-chair, no more he'll roam;
No more, with merry wags, to Eaftcheape come:
He's gone---to jeft and laugh, and give his fack at home
As for the learned critics, grave and deep,

Who catch at words, and catching fall asleep

Who in the forms of passion---bum---and haw!
For fuch our mafter will no liquor draw-

So blindly thoughtful, and so darkly read,

They take Tom Durffy's for the Shakespeare's head.
A vintner once acquir'd both praise and gain,

And fold much perry for the beft champaign.
Some rakes, this precious ftuff did fo allure,

upon my word!"

They drank whole nights---what's that---when wine is pure?
"Come, fill a bumper Jack---I will, my lord
"Here's cream!---damn'd fine !---immenfe!
Sir William, what fay you ?---The bef, believe me-
In this---th Jack !---the devil can't deceive me.
Thus the wife critic, too, miftakes his rvine,
Cries out with lifted bands, 'tis great !---divine !
Then jogs his neighbour, as the wonders ftrike bim!

This Shakespeare! Shakespeare !---ob there's nothing like him!
In this night's various and inchanted cup,

Some little perry's mixt for filling up.

The five long acts, from which our three are taken,

Stretch'd out to * fixteen years, lay by forfaken.

Left then this precious liquor run to waste, 'Tis now confin'd and bottled to your taste. 'Tis my chief wife, my joy, my only plan, To lofe no drop of that immortal man!

ACT

* The action of the Winter's Tale, as written by Shakespeare, comprehends fixteen years. [N. B. This prologue was spoken to the dramatic paftoral, called the Winter's Tale, and to this comedy, both of which are altered from Shakespeare, and were performed the fame night].

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