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Rh New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in store; Perhaps, where Lear has raved, and Hamlet died, On flying cars new sorcerers may ride; Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance?) Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet may dance.
 * Hard is his lot that, here by Fortune placed,

Must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste; With every meteor of caprice must play, And chase the new-blown bubbles of the day. Ah! let not Censure term our fate our choice; The stage but echoes back the public voice; The drama's laws the drama's patrons give, For we, that live to please, must please, to live.
 * Then prompt no more the follies you decry,

As tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die; 'Tis yours, this night, to bid the reign commence Of rescued Nature and reviving Sense; To chase the charms of Sound, the pomp of Show, For useful Mirth, and salutary Wo; Bid scenic Virtue form the rising age, And Truth diffuse her radiance from the stage.