GENTLE Reproofs have long been try'd in vain, Men but despise us while we but complain: Such numbers are concern'd for the wrong side; A weak resistance still provokes their Pride, And cannot stem the fierceness of the Tide. Laughers, Buffoons, with an unthinking Crowd Of gaudy Fools, impertinent and loud, Insult in every Corner: Want of Sense, Confirm'd with an outlandish Impudence, Among the rude Disturbers of the Pit, Have introduc't ill Breeding, and false Wit; To boast their Lewdness here young Scourers meet, And all the vile Companions of a Street; Keep a perpetual bawling near that Door Who beat the Bawd last night, who bilk't the Whore: They snarle, but neither Fight nor pay a Farthing, A Play-house is become a mear Bear-Garden; Where every one with Insolence enjoys His Liberty and Property of Noise. Should true Sense, with revengeful Fire, come down, Our @3Sodom@1 wants Ten Men to save the Town: Each Parish is infected, to be clear We must loose more than when the Plague was here; While every little Thing perks up so soon, That at Fourteen it hectors up and down, With the best Cheats and the worst Whores i' th' Town; Swears at a Play, who should be whipt at School, The Foplings must in time grow up to rule, The Fashion must prevail to be a Fool. Some powerful Muse, inspir'd for our defence, Arise, and save a little common Sense: In such a Cause let thy keen Satyr bite, Where Indignation bids thy Genius write: Mark a bold leading Coxcomb of the Town, And single out the Beast and hunt him down; Hang up his mangl'd Carcass on the Stage, To fright away the Vermin of the Age. |