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A PROLOGUE TO THE FUNERAL:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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141

A PROLOGUE TO THE FUNERAL:

A COMEDY.

[_]

Supposed to be spoken before the University of Cambridge.

I've very often heard what Fear can do,
But never found the sad Effects till now;
And now my Face in sober Sadness shows it,
But hush—before each teazing Coxcomb knows it.

142

Pray Sirs, forgive me if I shrewdly guess,
The latent Meaning of this sable Dress;
Did not I know ye, I should think ye come,
Like Ravens, to foretel our Poet's Doom;
But since we act the Funeral to-day,
We'll but suppose ye Mourners in the Play.
Yet thanks to Fate, some dawning Hopes appear,
Break thro' the Gloom, and gild the low'ring Sphere.
Lo! Comet-like the Commoners arise,
And as the streaming Light'ning gild the Skies,
But thank 'em, they're too witty to be wise.
Like Light'ning, yet I fear, they'll blast our Toil,
And wound the very Place, on which they smile.
But O ye Sophs, ye mighty Men of Wit!
You that so well can lord it o'er a Pit!
For once guard this with ruminating Face,
And stand the solemn Guardians of the Place!

143

Clear it from snearing, sly, pretending Fools,
And lug the beardless Criticks to the Schools:
So may the Fresh-men ev'ry Pun approve,
So may your Puns the Fresh-mens Jokes reprove.
So may your Gravities with equal Ease,
Guzzle fat College-Ale, or take Degrees,
Turn Pedants, Parsons, Criticks, what ye please.
But if the Play's intolerably bad,
And nothing but Damnation can be had;
Torment it with your criticising Tools,
Time, Place, and Characters, and twenty Rules;
Nay, use it like a Fresh-man in the Schools.
But pray, good surly Gentlemen, be sure ye
Observe the just Decorum of a Fury;
And this, among the rest, a Maxim hold,
That, Vixens always clap their Hands and scold.