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Show PROLOGUE: By J. H. fpoken by Mr. Powell, a Servant attending with a Bottle of Wine. AS fiubborn Atheijls, who difdaind to pray, Repent, tho late, upon their dying Day, So in their Pangs, mojl Authors rack'd with Feats, Implore your Mercy in our fuppliant Pray'rs. "But our new Author has no Caafe maintain d, Let him not loft what he has never gain'd. Love and a Battle we his peaceful Arms, Ladies, and Gallants, have not thfefome Charms * For Love, all Mankind to the hairmujifue, And Sirs, the Bottle, he prefents to you. Health to the Play, (drinks.) e'en let it fairly pofs, Sure none fit here that will refufe their Glafs! O there's a damning Sol ier-iet me think-• He looks as he were fworn- to what * To drink. » (drink: Come on then ; Foot to Foot be boldly Jet, And our young Author s new Commijfion wet. He and his Bottle here attend their Doom, From you the Poet's Helicon mu[i come j If be has any Foes, to makt amends, He gives his Service (drinks) fure you now are Friends. No Critick here will he provoke to fight, The Day be theirs, he only begs his Night • Pray pledge him now, fecur'd from ail Abufe, Then nanie the Health yon love, let none refufe, tut (ad? Man's Mijlrejs be the Poet's Mufe. 2$ J Dramatis |