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Show 1 (?) P R O L O G U E ; Spoken by a Shabby Poet. E Gods / What Crime had my poor Father (dotte9 That you (hould make a Poet of his Son ? Or is't for fome great Services of his, Tare pleased to compliment his Boy with this ? [Shewing his Crown of Laurel. The Honour, I muft needs confefs, is great, Jf, with his Crown, you3d tell him where to eat, *Tis well- But I have more Complaints loo-J^ here / [Shewing his ragged Coat. Har\ ye : D'ye thinly this Suit good Winter Wear ? In a Cold Morning ; whu at a Lord's Gate9 How you have let the Porter let me wait ? You* 11 fay, perhaps, you fyiew I'd get no harm, Youd giv'n me lire enough to keep me warm,. Ah A World of Blefftngs to that Fire we owe ; Without it I'd ne'er made this Princely Show, I have a Brother too, now in my Sight, [Looking behind the Scenes. A bufy Man amongft us here to-night : Your Fire has made him play a thoufand Pranks, For which, no doubt, you've had his daily Thanks -, He* as thank* d you, fir ft, for all his decent Plays, Where he fo nick'd it, when he writ for Praife* Next for his meddling with fome Folks in Black, And bringing Soufe. a Prie/I upon his Back; A 2 for |