When I think of your Goodness, it gives me Encouragement to put my Play under your grand Protection; and if you can find any thing in it worthy of your Praise, I am sure the _Super-Naturals_ will like it. I do not flatter when I say, your Taste is universal, Great as an Empress, Sweet and Refin’d as Lady _Malpas_, Sublime as Lady _Sarah Cowper_, Learned and Compleat as Lady _Conway_, Distinguishing and Clear as Mrs. _Madin_, Gay, Good and Innocent as Lady _Bland_. I have often thought that you are a Compound of the World’s Favourites, that all meet and rejoice together in one; the Taste of _Montagu_, _Wharton_, or _Meredith_, _Stanhope_, _Sneid_, or _Byrom_; the Integrity and Hospitality of _Legh_ of _Lime_, the Wit and Fire of _Bunbury_, the Sense of an _Egerton_, fervent to serve as _Beresford_ or _Mildmay_, belov’d like _Gower_. If you was his Rival, you’d weaken the Strength of that most powerful Subject. I hope your eternal Unisons in Heaven will always sing to keep up the Harmony in your Soul, that is Musical as Mrs. _Leigh_, and never ceases to delight; raises us in Raptures like _Amante Sposa_, Lord _Essex_, or the Sun. If every Pore in every Body in _Cheshire_ was a Mouth they would all cry out aloud, _God save the Lady_ DELVES! that illuminates the Minds, of Mortals, inspires with Musick and Poetry especially, _Your most Humble Servant_, Lord _FLAME_. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] TO The Right Hon^{ble} the Lord _WALPOLE_. _My Good Lord_, I Return Thanks to Heaven, which is in you, I mean your Taste, that would not continue, except it was cherish’d with Vertue, that Parent of Eternal Love; ’tis all Palate hungers after, intellectual Food, Generosity, Harmony; the lofty Lines of a sublime Pen: and these beautiful Perfections in you, have been the Chief Support of my Play. At this Time there are as many fine Poets in _England_ as ever there were; but they will not write, because they say there is nothing encourag’d but Noise and Nonsense. But I believe those Bards are mistaken; for so long as the Lord Duke of _Montagu_, Yourself, and Mr. _Charles Stanhope_ live, fine Poetry will not want Encouragement: tho’ I have nothing to boast of in my Play, but the Character of _Soarethereal_, yet you great Men, that shine among the Angels, did condescend to support me; and no one is more thankful than _Your_ LORDSHIP’S _very humble Servant_, SAM. JOHNSON. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ PROLOGUE. --------------------------------------------------