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To You, great Judges in this Writing Age, che
With all those humble Thoughts, which still have fway'd Ons
His Pride, much doubting, trembling, and afraid ay
Of what is to his want of Merit due, bei And aw'd by every Excellence in you, Tei The Author fends to beg you will be kind, of And spare those many Faults you needs must find.
You to whom Wit a common Foe is grown,
The Thing ye scorn and publickly disown; re
Though now perhaps y'are here for other Ends,
He swears to me ye ought to be bis Friends : de For he ne'er call'd ye yet infipid Tools;
Nor wrote one Line to tell ye you were Fools :
But says of Wit ye have fo large a store, 1
mych, you never will have more,
He neer with Libel treated yet the Town,
The Names of bonest Men bedawbd and shown,
Nay, never once lampoon'd tbe harmless Life
of Suburb Virgin, or of City Wife.
Satire's th’ Effect of Poetry's Disease,
Whicb, fick of a lewd Age, she vents for Eale,
But now her only Strife should be to please;
Since of Ill-fate the baneful Cloud's withdrawn,
And Happiness again begins to dawn;
Since back with Joy and Triumph he is come,
That always drew Fears hence, ne'er brougbt 'em home,
Oft has be plow'd the boisterous Ocean o'er,
Yet ne'er more welcome to the longing Shore,
Not when he brought bome Victories before.
For then fresh Lawrels flourish'd on his Brow,
And he comes crown'd with Olive Branches now :
Receive him! Ob receive him as his Friends,
Embrace the Blesings which he recommends ;
Such Quiet as your Foes shall ne'er destroy ;
Then. fake of Fears, and clap your Hands for Jor.
Acafto, a Nobleman retir'd from the
Court, and living privately in the Mr. Gillow.
Chamont, a young Soldier of Fortune, Mr. Smith.
Servants in the Family.
S Mr. Norris.
IS strange, Ernesto, this Severity
Should Itill reign pow'rful in Acafto's Mind,
To hate the Court where he was bred and
Alf Honours heap'd on him that Pow'r
.. 'Tis true, he thither came a private Gentleman,
and brave, and of a Family
Ancient and Noble as the Empire holds.
The Honours he has gain’d are justly his ;
He purchas'd them in War; thrice has he led
An Army 'gainst the Rebels, and as often
Return'd with Victory; the World has not
A truer Soldier, or a better Subject.
It was his Virtue at first made me serve him ;
He is the best of Masters as of Friends :
I know he has lately been invited thither;
Yet still he keeps his stubborn Purpose, cries,
He's old, and willingly would be at reft :
I doubt there's deep Resentment in his Mind,
For the late Slight his Honour suffer'd there.
Has he not Reason? When for what he had borne
Long, hard, and faithful Toil, he might have claim'd
Places in Honour, and Employment high;
A huffing, shining, flatering, cringing Coward,
A Canker-worm of Peace, was rais'd above him.
Yet ftill he holds just Value for the King,
Nor ever names him but with highest Reverence.
Tis noble that
Oh! I have heard him wanton in his Praise,
Speak things of him might charm the Ears of Envy.
he live till Nature's self grow old,
And from her Womb no more can bless the Earth!
For when he dies, farewel all Honour, Bounty,
All generous Encouragement of Arts,
For Charity herself becomes a Widow.
No, he has two Sons that were ordain'd to be
As well his Virtue's, as his Fortune's Heirs.
They're both of Nature mild, and full of Sweetness.
They came Twins from the Womb, and still they live
As if they would go Twins too to the Grave:
Neither has any thing he calls his own,
But of each others Joys as Griefs partaking;
So very honestly, so well they love,
As they were only for each other born.
Never was Parent in an Off-Spring happier ;
He has a Daughter too, whose blooming Age
Promises Goodness equal to her Beauty.
And as there is a Friendship 'twixt the Brethren,
So has her Infant Nature chosen too
A Faithful Partner of her Thoughts and Wishes,
And kind Companion of her harmless Pleasures.
You mean the beauteous Orphan, fair Monimia!
The same, the Daughter of the brave Chamont.
He was our Lord's Companion in the Wars,
Where such a wondrous Friendship grew between 'em
As only Death could end : Chamont's Eitate
Was ruin'd in our late and Civil Discords ;
Therefore unable to advance her Fortune,
He left his Daughter to our Master's Care ;
To such a Care as the scarce loft a Father.
Her Brother to the Emperor's Wars went early,
To seek a Fortune, or a noble Fate;
Whence he with Honour is expected back,
And mighty Marks of that great Prince's Favour. 1
Our Master never would permit his Sons
To launch for Fortune in th' uncertain World,
But warns 'em to avoid both Courts, and Camps,
Where dilatory Fortune plays the Jilt
With the brave, noble, honest, gallant Man,
To throw herself away on Fools and Knaves.
They both have forward, gen’rous, active Spirics :
'Tis daily their Petition to their Father,
To send them forth where Glory's to be gotten;