WEET Content, that wont'ft to dwell

SW

With cottage fwains in homely cell,

And on the hearth to bake

Thy coarse, but wholesome cake;

By labour made to relish well

Sweet Content!

Round our cot thy balm difpenfe,

And make with us thy refidence.

CHOR U S.

Sweet Content! &c.

II.

Sweet Content, thou can'ft not find
Such welcome in the courtier's mind,
Who artful spreads his toils

Of vows and faithlefs fmiles,
And fwears fo falfe, and looks so kind.
'Sweet Content!

Round our cot thy balm difpenfe,

And make with us thy refidence.

CHORUS.

Sweet Content 1.

III.

Sweet Content, come, dwell with me,

Love fhall ever banish'd be,

With his fantastic fires,

And dreams of loose defires,

Rebel to thy great decree !

Sweet Content!

Round our cot thy balm difpenfe,

And make with us thy refidence.

CHORUS.

VOL. I.

Sweet Content! &c.

་

Round our cot thy balm difpenfe,

And make with us thy refidence.

CHORUS.

Sweet Content! &c

Mr. GARRICK's Addrefs to the Town, in the Character of the BUSY-BODY.

INCE my good friends, tho' late, are pleas'd at last,

SINC

I bear with patience all my fuff'rings paft;

To you who faw my fuff'rings, it is clear,
I bought my secrets most confounded dear.

To any gentleman not over nice,

I'll fell 'em all again, and at half price.
Wou'd I had been among you

for no doubt,

You all have fecrets cou'd I find them out.

Each has a fecret fitted to his fancy!

My friends above there honeft John and Nancy; How well their fecrets with their paffions fuit,

Hearts full of love, and pockets full of fruit;

Each jolly failor thus his mistress grapples,

They look, and laugh, and love, and-eat their apples.
So good or wife this precious town is growing,
There's fcarce a fecret here, that's worth the knowing;

Nay

Nay where a hungry mind expects a feast,

'Mongft politicians

It will get the leaft.

They promise much-seem full-stare, nod, and pout,
But tap 'em, and the devil a drop comes out.
In fhort, I'll give this bufy business over,
Where much is felt, and little to discover;

But fhould the ladies wifh, or want t'employ me,
I fhou'd be proud and pleas'd if they wou'd try me.
To manage meetings, or to flip a letter,

There's no French milliner can do it better.

As for the gentlemen

the rake, or beau,

I wou'd not give e'm that for all they know ;
Indeed for fecrets there are none excel 'em.

But then they make 'em, and when made, they tell 'em:

There is one fecret ftill remains behind,

Which ever did, and will distract my mind

P

Why come out on this cold day?

Why not keep, my tender fair,

In the warm place where now you are?

BABY.

O dear mammy! all the loves,

All the graces, pigs and doves;
All my husbands, all my cats,
Gr. y's; y's woodys' batts,

Hhh 2

(Doom'd,

EPILOGUE to the ANDRIA. Acted at HACKNEY SCHOOL.

Written by DAVID GARRICK, Efq.

DAVUS speaks.

UT why acts plays?fome formal Greybeard cries?

BUT

I'll answer that, who am not over-wife :
To learn their leffons, and to play the fool,
Are the two great concerns of boys at school;

And

And our good masters, prudently discerning,
How much we lean to folly, more than learning,
Contriv'd these plays, by which the veriest dunce,
May learn his book, and play the fool at once.
For Greek and Latin we have small devotion,
TERENCE himself goes down a fickly potion;
But fet us once to act him - never fear Us-
Our qualms are gone, 'tis You are fick who hear Us.
Ne'er may our actors, when they quit the fchool,
Tread the great stage of life to play the fool.
No partial friends can there our faults conceal,
Should we play characters, we cannot feel.
If we act Law - are judges!

then are We

Like juftice, blindas Council we may fee
Enough to know the colour of a fee.

}

In PHYSICK practice is our best adviser,
The more we're puzzled, we must seem the wifer.
If WAR's our trade, and we vain, bluft'ring, young,
Should Thrafo-like, fight battles with our tongue,
Soon 'twould appear how ill these airs became us;
The foe comes on- -QUID NUNC ?—QUIN REDEAMUS.
In fhort, be what we may, experience teaches
This truth-One deed is worth a thousand fpeeches.-
John Moody of fir Wronghead well has told it,
He can fpeak ftawtly, but he canna' hawld it.
This for myself and school!

Now let me fay,

Why with these English'rhimes, we close our play:
Ladies, for You they're meant I feel to you,
Small as I am, that great refpect is due :
Quit of my Grecian fervitude, I crave
Still to be English Davus, and your flave-
To fuccour helplefs damfels is my plan,
If you fhould want me, ladies, I'm your man.
Should stubborn age your tender hearts provoke,
"I foften rocks, and bend the knotted oak:'
Or fhould falfe fwains for other nymphs forfake ye,
Stay a few years, and I'll be proud to take ye.