Perhaps you wonder whence this friendship springs
Between the weavers and us playhouse kings;
But wit and weaving had the same beginning;
Pallas[3] first taught us poetry and spinning:
And, next, observe how this alliance fits,
For weavers now are just as poor as wits:
Their brother quillmen, workers for the stage,
For sorry stuff can get a crown a page;
But weavers will be kinder to the players,
And sell for twenty pence a yard of theirs.
And to your knowledge, there is often less in
The poet's wit, than in the player's dressing.
[Footnote 1: Archbishop King.]
[Footnote 2: A street famous for woollen manufactures.--_F_.]
[Footnote 3: See the fable of Pallas and Arachne in Ovid, "Metamorph.,"
lib. vi, applied in "A proposal for the Universal use of Irish
Manufacture," "Prose Works," vii, at p. 21.--_W. E. B._]
ANSWER
TO DR. SHERIDAN'S PROLOGUE, AND TO DR. SWIFT'S EPILOGUE.
IN BEHALF OF THE DISTRESSED WEAVERS. BY DR. DELANY.
Femineo generi tribuantur.
The Muses, whom the richest silks array,
Refuse to fling their shining gowns away;
The pencil clothes the nine in bright brocades,
And gives each colour to the pictured maids;
Far above mortal dress the sisters shine,
Pride in their Indian Robes, and must be fine.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184