100
Miscellanies.
PROLOGUE
TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1713.
What kings henceforth shall reign, what states be free
Is fix'd at length by Anna's just decree;
Whose brows the Muse's sacred wreath shall fit
Is left to you the arbiters of wit.
With beating hearts the rival poets wait 5
Till you Athenians shall decide their fate,
Secure when to these learned seats they come
Of equal judgment and impartial doom.
Poor is the player's fame, whose whole renown
Is but the praise of a capricious town, 10
While with mock majesty and fancy'd pow'r
He struts in robes, the monarch of an hour!
Oft' wide of nature must he act a part,
Make love in tropes, in bombast break his heart,
In turn and simile resign his breath, 15
And rhyme and quibble in the pangs of death.
We blush when plays like these receive applause,
And laugh in secret at the tears we cause,
With honest scorn our own success disdain,
A worthless honour and inglorious gain. 20
No trifling scenes at Oxford shall appear;
Well what we blush to act may you to hear.
To you our fam'd our standard plays we bring,
The work of poets whom you taught to sing;
Is fix'd at length by Anna's just decree;
Whose brows the Muse's sacred wreath shall fit
Is left to you the arbiters of wit.
With beating hearts the rival poets wait 5
Till you Athenians shall decide their fate,
Secure when to these learned seats they come
Of equal judgment and impartial doom.
Poor is the player's fame, whose whole renown
Is but the praise of a capricious town, 10
While with mock majesty and fancy'd pow'r
He struts in robes, the monarch of an hour!
Oft' wide of nature must he act a part,
Make love in tropes, in bombast break his heart,
In turn and simile resign his breath, 15
And rhyme and quibble in the pangs of death.
We blush when plays like these receive applause,
And laugh in secret at the tears we cause,
With honest scorn our own success disdain,
A worthless honour and inglorious gain. 20
No trifling scenes at Oxford shall appear;
Well what we blush to act may you to hear.
To you our fam'd our standard plays we bring,
The work of poets whom you taught to sing;
