While _Oedipus_ is _raving_ on the _Stage_, 950 Mild _Pity_ enters and dissolves our _Rage_; We _low'r_ our _haughty Spirits_, our _Pride_ and _Hate_, And learn to _fear_ the sad _Reverse of Fate_. A _Tyrant's Fall_, a treach'rous _Statesman's_ End Clear the _Just Gods_, and equal _Heav'n_ defend: Ungrateful _Factions_ here themselves torment, And _bring_ those very _Ills_ they would _prevent_: Nor think the lost _Intrigues_ of _Love_ too mean To fill the _Stage_ and grace toe _Tragic Scene_! Who from the _World_ this _Salt of Nature_ takes, 960 _Twice Slaves of Kings_ of _Life_ a _Desart_ makes. The _Moral_ and _Pathetick_ neatly join'd, Are best for _Pleasure_ and for _life_ design'd. Be this in _Tragic_ an _Eternal Law_; _Bold Strokes_ and _larger_ than the _Life_ to draw: Let all be _Great_; when here a _Woman's_ seen, Paint her a _Fury_, or a _Heroine_: _Slaves, Spendthrifts_, angry _Fathers_, better fit The meaner _Sallies_ of COMEDIAN Wit; But _Courtly_ HORACE did their _Stage_ refuse, 970 Nor was it trod by _Maro's_ heav'nly Muse: A _Walk_ so _low_ their _nobler Minds_ disdain, Where _sordid Mirth's_ exchang'd for _sordid Gain_; Where, in false _Pleasure_ all the _Profit's_ drown'd, Nor _Authors_ with just _Admiration_ crown'd: Hence was the _Sock_ a Task for _servile Wit_, Course PLAUTUS hence, and neater TERENCE writ: Yet if you still your _Fortune_ long to take, And long to hear the _crouded Benches_ shake; 980 If you'd _reform_ the _Mob_, lov'd _Vice restrain_, The _Pulpits_ break, and neighb'ring _B----_ drain; Let _Heav'n_ at least, if not its _Priests_, be free, The _Bible_ sures's too _grave_ for _Comedy_: If she nor _lewdly_ nor _profanely_ talk She'll have a _cleaner_, tho a _narrower Walk_. Our Nation's _endless Humour_ will supply So large a _Fund_ as never can be _dry_; Why then should _Vice_ be _bare_ and _open_ shown, And with such _Nauseous Scenes_ affront the _Town_? 990 Why thrive the _Lewd_, their _Wishes_ seldom crost, And why _Poetic Justice_ often lost? They plead they copy _Nature_.--Don't abuse Her _sacred Name_ with such a _vile Excuse_! She wisely _hides_ what these, like Beasts _display_, } Ev'n _Vice_ it self, less _impudent_ than they, } Remote in _Shades_, and far from _conscious_ Day. } From this _Retrenchment_ by strong _Reason_ beat, They next to _poor Necessity_ retreat: The _Murderers, Bawds_ and _Robbers_ last pretence 1000 With equal _Justice_, equal _Innocence_! So _Crack_, in _pious Fit_, will plead she's _poor_, 'Tis a _hard Choice_, Good Sir, to _starve_ or _whore_! --Is there no _Third_, or will such _Reas'nings_ pass In _Bridewel's_ rigid Court, or save the _Lash_? Where the _stern Judge_, like _Radamanth_, surveys