Confess’d the living draught of men and things?
What other bard in any clime appears
Alike the master of your smiles and tears?
Yet have I deigned your audience to entice
With wretched bribes to luxury and vice?
Or have my various scenes a purpose known
Which freedom, virtue, glory, might not own?
Such from the first was my dramatic plan,
It should be yours to crown what I began:
And now that England spurns her Gothic chain,