A war of profit mitigates the evil,
But to be tax’d—and beaten—is the devil.
How was the ſcene forlorn, and how deſpis’d,25
When Timon without muſic moraliz’d!
Shakeſpeare’s ſublime in vain entie’d the throng
Without the aid of Purcell’s Syren ſong.
In the ſame antique loom theſe ſcenes were wrought,
Embelliſh’d with good morals and juſt thought;30
True Nature in her nobleſt light you ſee,
Ere yet debauch’d by modern gallantry
To trifling jeſts and fulſome ribaldry:
What ruſt remains upon the ſhining maſs,
Antiquity muſt privilege to paſs.35
’T is Shakeſpeare’s play, and is theſe ſcenes miſcarry,
Let Gormon[1] take the ſtage—or Lady Mary.[2]37
EPILOGUE
DESIGNED FOR THE BRITISH ENCHANTERS.
Wit once, like Beauty, without art or dreſs,
Naked, and unadorn’d, could find ſucceſs,
Till by fruition novelty deſtroy’d,
The nymph muſt find new charms to be enjoy’d.
As by his equipage the man you prize,5
And ladies muſt have gems beſide their eyes;
