SOLO by the DOCTOR. Hear but this ftrain-'twas made by HANDEL, EPILOGUE to the Tragedy of CLEONE. WELL, ladies-fo much for the tragic stile-- And now the custom is to make you smile. To make us fmile !-methinks I hear you fay- My stars!-what gentle belle would think it treason, Give me my jewels, wardrobe, and my maid- Such is the language of each modish fair! Then plain domestic virtues were the mode, That scorns the prefs, the pulpit, and the stage. And pour the balm that fweetens human life. MORAL THE Of JUDGMENT OF HERCULE S. W Hile blooming fpring defcends from genial skies, From whose soft breath Elyfian beauties flow; Soon, |