Apollo, to the Company at Harrowgate

From my critical court, at a quarterly meeting,
To my Harrowgate subjects this embassy greeting:

Whereas from the veteran poets complaint is,
Their works are no longer consider'd as dainties,
And Shakespear, and Congreve, and Farquhar and others,
The tragical—comical—farcical brothers,
Petition us oft for some gents and some ladies;
(Our subjects, no doubt, since dramatic their trade is.)

We govern their stational stage by direction,
And send 'em to you for your friendly protection;
'Tis Apollo invites, with some ladies, (the muses)
We denounce him immensely ill-bred that refuses.

Be it known by the bye, from our helicon fountain,
Enrich'd by the soil of Parnassus's mountain,
Your Harrowgate water directly proceeding,
Produces fine sense, with true taste, and good breeding.

Talk of taste—none but heathens would call it in question:
Yet some insolent wits might advance a suggestion!
While our deputies daily invite all the neighbours,
But find no Maecenas to smile on their labours.
Thus far we've proceeded your favour to curry,
And could tell ye much more,—but we write in a hurry.