Comic Muse. ’Tis I—the laughing muse of comedy.
P.
What? with that mournful melancholy face?
Why sure—thou’st wandered through Trophonius’ cave.
C. M.
I’ve cause for grief: I’m scorn’d despis’d, neglected,
A vulgar muse, got by some Grub-street bard,
On obscure Ignorance, in gaol or stews,
Usurps my place, and arrogates my honours.
P.