Some cry up Haydn, some Mozart, Just as the whim bites; for my part, I do not care a farthing candle For either of them, or for Handel.-- Cannot a man live free and easy, Without admiring Pergolesi? Or through the world with comfort go, That never heard of Doctor Blow? So help me heaven, I hardly have; And yet I eat, and drink, and shave, Like other people, if you watch it, And know no more of stave or crotchet, Than did the primitive Peruvians; Or those old ante-queer-diluvians That lived in the unwash'd world with Jubal, Before that dirty blacksmith Tubal By stroke on anvil, or by summ'at, Found out, to his great surprise, the gamut. I care no more for Cimarosa, Than he did for Salvator Rosa, Being no painter; and bad luck Be mine, if I can bear that Gluck! Old Tycho Brahe, and modern Herschel, Had something in them; but who's Purcel? The devil, with his foot so cloven, For aught I care, may take Beethoven; And, if the bargain does not suit, I'll throw him Weber in to boot. There's not the splitting of a splinter To choose twixt him last named, and Winter. Of Doctor Pepusch old queen Dido Knew just as much, God knows, as I do. I would not go four miles to visit Sebastian Bach; (or Batch, which is it?) No more I would for Bononcini. As for Novello, or Rossini, I shall not say a word to grieve 'em, Because they're living; so I leave 'em. THE WIFE'S TRIAL; OR, THE INTRUDING WIDOW. A Dramatic poem. FOUNDED ON MR. CRABBE'S TALE OF "THE CONFIDANT." * * * * * CHARACTERS. MR. SELBY, _A Wiltshire Gentleman._ KATHERINE, _Wife to Selby_. LUCY, _Sister to Selby_. MRS. FRAMPTON, _A Widow_. SERVANTS. SCENE--_At Mr. Selby's House, or in the grounds adjacent_. * * * * * SCENE--_A Library_. MR. SELBY. KATHERINE. _Selby_. Do not too far mistake me, gentlest wife; I meant to chide your virtues, not yourself, And those too with allowance. I have not Been blest by thy fair side with five white years Of smooth and even wedlock, now to touch With any strain of harshness on a string Hath yielded me such music. 'Twas the quality Of a too grateful nature in my Katherine, That to the lame performance of some vows, And common courtesies of man to wife, Attributing too much, hath sometimes seem'd To esteem as favors, what in that blest union Are but reciprocal and trivial dues, As fairly yours as mine: 'twas this I thought Gently to reprehend. _Kath._ In friendship's barter The riches we exchange should hold some level, And corresponding worth. Jewels for toys Demand some thanks thrown in. You look me, sir, To that blest haven of my peace, your bosom, An orphan founder'd in the world's black storm. Poor, you have made me rich; from lonely maiden, Your cherish'd and your full-accompanied wife.