corner stones of the building."

But I declare, that the avoiding on the one hand, a style too high,
as on the other, too mean and vulgar for the subject, or the persons
concerned therein, has been a talk far more difficult to me than
any of the best formed lines in either of my other Tragedies,
so that I tremble at the thought of the reception this may meet with;
and had it not been on account of the moral it inculcates, and the
solicitation of some of my friends, I never should have published it.



Prologue,

BY Mr. R. Lewis,
Author of the Candid Philosopher, &c. &c.


The Muse prolific of a Vet'ran Bard
Again brings forth;--but yet with labour hard.
Nor is it strange, that such a Muse feels pain,
When her child starts, like Pallas, from the brain,
Arm'd at all points; when bold, she dares engage,
With Truth's bright arms, the monsters of the age;
When with just aim she points keen Satire's dart,
And stabs the foul fiend GAMING to the heart.

Yet has our Bard, to simple Nature true,
Not brought up scenes of grandeur to your view;
Not sought by magic arts to strike your eyes,