But sure such Patriots change not, but forget;
'Tis want of Memory, the Curse of Wit.
Our Author wou'd excuse these youthful Scenes,
Begotten at his Entrance in his Teens;
Some childish Fancies may approve the Toy,
Some like the Muse the more———for being a Boy;
And Ladies shou'd be pleas'd, tho' not content,
To find so young a Thing not impotent.
Our Stage Reformers too he wou'd disarm,
In Charity so cold, in Zeal so warm,
And therefore, to atone for past Abuses,
And gain the Church Indulgence for the Muses,
He gives his Thirds to charitable Uses.
excellent Tragedy, call'd
The Generous Conqueror.
YOUR Comick Writer is a common Foe:
None can intrigue in Peace, or be a Beau,
Nor wanton Wife nor Widow can be sped,
Not even Russel can inter the Dead,
But strait this Censor, in his Whym of Wit,
Strips, and presents you naked to the Pit.
Thus Criticks shou'd, like these, be branded Foes,
Who for the Poison only suck the Rose,
