« PreviousContinue »
I'm glad 'tis Sarah—then our Sall may see l When to the gouty alderman I sued,
Is begging grown the fashion, with a pox? " To which will be added a new mask-" The mayor should set such housewifes in the Zounds! why a mask? We sailors hate grimaces:
stocks. Aboveboard all; we scorn to hide our faces. Give you a guinea! Z- ds! replied the beast, But what is here, so very large and plain? | 'Twould buy a ticket for a turile feast. “ Bri-tan-nia."- 0, Britannia good | Think what a guinea a-head might set before
againHuzza, boys! By the Royal George, I swear, Surmullet-turbot-and a grand John Dory. Tom Coxen, and the crew, shall straight be I'll never give a groat, as I'm a sinner, there.
Unless they gather 't in a dish-at dinner. All free-born souls must take Bri-tan-nia's part, | I trust, by art and inore polite address, And give her three round cheers, with hand | Your fairer advocates met more success;
and heart! [Going off, he stops. And not a man compassion's cause witbstood, I wish you landmen, though, would leave your When beauty pleaded for such gen'ral good.
tricks, Your factions, parties, and damn'd politics : And like us honest tars, drink, fighi, and sing: / $ 50. Prologue to the Winter's Tale, and Ca. True to yourselves, your country, and your
therine and Petruchio. 1756. Written and king!
spoken by Mr. GARRICK.
To various things the stage has been comperd, As apt ideas strike each humorous bard:
This night, for want of better simile, 849. Prologue to Comus. Performed for the Let this our theatre a tavern be:
Benefit of the General Hospital at Buth, 1756; The poets vintners, and the waiters we. and spoken by Miss MORRISON, in the Cha. So, as the cant and custom of the trade is, racter of a Lady of Fashion. HOADLEY. You're welcome, gemmen; kindly welcome,
1 ladies. She enters with a number of tickets in her hand. To draw in customers, our bills are spread;
WELL, I've been beating up for volunteers, You cannot miss the sign, 'tis Shakspeare's But find that charity has got no ears.
Head. I first attack'd a colonel of the guards
From this same head, this fountain-head divine, Sir, charity-consider its rewards;
For different palates springs a different wine; With healing hand the saddest sores it skins, | In which no tricks, to strengthen or to thin'emAnd covers-0! a multitude of sins.
Neat as imported—no French brandy in 'em. He swore the world was welcome to his Hence for the choicest spirits flows Champagne, thoughts :
Whose sparkling atoms shoot through every 'Twas damu'd hypocrisy to hide one's faults ;
vein, And with that sin his conscience ne'er was Then mount in magic vapors to th' enraptor'd twitted,
brain ! The only one he never had committed. Hence flow for martial minds potations strong, Next to my knight I plead. He shook his And sweet love-potions for the fair and young. head,
For you, my hearts of oak, for your regale Complain'd the stocks were low, and trade was
. (To the upper gallery. dead.
There's good old English stingo, mild and In these Bath charities a tax he'd found
stale: More heavy than four shillings in the pound. For high, luxurious souls, with luscious smack, What with the play-house, hospital, and abbey, There's Sir John Falstaff in a butt of sack ; A man was stripp'd-unless he'd look quite And, if the stronger liquors more invite ye, shabby.
Bardolph is gin, and Pistol aqua-vitæ. Then such a train, and such expense; to wit, But should you call for Falstaff, where to find My lady, all the brats, and cousin Kit
him, He'd steal himself, perhaps, into the pit. He's gone-nor leftone cup of sack behind him.
Old Lady Slipslop, at her morning cards, | Sunk in his elbow-chair, no more he'll road, Vows that all works of genus she regards, No more, with merry wags, to Eastcheap conne, Raffles for Chinese gods, card houses, shells, | He's gone-to jest and laugh, and give his sack, Nor grudges to the music, or the bells,
at home. But has a strange antiquity to nasty ospitals. As for the learned critics, grave and deep,
I hope your lordship-ihen my lord replies~ Who catch at words, and, catching, fall asker. No doubt, the governors are very wise; Who, in the storms of passion, hum and has But, for the play, he wonder'd at their choice. For such our master will no liquor drawIn Milton's days such stuff might be the taste, So blindly thoughtful, and so darkly read, But, faith! he thought it was damn'd dull and They take Toni Durfey's for the Shakspeare's chaste :
Head. Then swears he to the charity is hearty,
A vintner once acquir'd both praise and gas. But can't in honor break his evening party. And sold much perry for the best Charnpages
Some rakes this precious stuff did so allure, The spirit too, clear'd from his deadly white, They drank whole nights-what's that when | Rises--a haberdasher to the sight! wine is pure?
Nor young attorneys have this rage with stood, “Come, fill a bumper, Jack."_“I will, my But change their pens for truncheons, ink for Lord."
blood; “ Here's cream!-damn'd fine!-immense !- And (strange reverse !)-die for their country's
upon my word ! Sir William, what say you?"_" The best, Through all the town this folly you may trace; believe me."
Myself am witness-'is a common case. “ In thismeh, Jack !--the devil can't deceive I've further proofs, could ye but think I wrong
me." Thus the wise critic, too, mistakes his wine ; Look round-you'll find some spouting youths Cries out, with lifted handge"Tis great! divine! among ye. Then jogs his neighbour, as the wonders strike_To check these heroes, and their laurels crop, him ;
To bring them back to reason and their shop; This Shakspeare! Shakspeare !-0, there's / To raise a harmless laugh, was all my aim; nothing like him!
And, if I shun contempt-I seek not fame. In this night's various and enchanted cup | Indulge this firstling, let nie but begin, Some little perry's mix'd, for filling up. Nor nip mer in the buddings of my sin : The five long acts, from which our three are Somes hopes I cherish, in your smiles I read 'em;
Whale'er my faults, your candor can exceed'em. Stretch'd out to sixteen years* , lay by, forsaken: 1 Lest then this precious liquor run to waste, 'Tis now confind and bottled for your taste. "Tis my chief wish, my joy, my only plan,
$ 52. Epilogue to the sume. 1756. Spoken To lose no drop of that immortal man!
by Mrs.Clive. Smart.
[Enters, reading the play-bill.
A VERY pretty bill as I'm alive! 651. Prologue to the Apprentice. 1756. The part of-Nobody-by Mrs. Clive!
Spoken by Mr. MURPHY, Author of the A paltry, scribbling fool- to leave me out! . Piece, dressed in black. GARRICK.
He'll say, perhaps he thought I could not Behold a wonder for theatric story! Malice and envy to the last degree! [spout. The culprit of this night appears before ye: . And why?-1 wrote a farce as well as he, Before his judges dares these boards to tread, And fairly ventur'd it, without the aid “ With all his imperfections on his head!" Of prologue dress’d in black, and face in masPrologues precede the piece, in mournful verse, querade ; As undertakers walk before the hearse; O pit, have pity-see how I'm dismay'd ! Whose doleful march may strike the harden'd | Poor soul! this canting stuff will never do, mind,
Unless, like Bayes, he brings his hangman too. And wake its feelings for the dead behind. But granting that, from these same obsequies, Trick'd out in black, thus actors try their art, Some pickings to our bard in black arise; To melt that rock of rocks, the critic's heart. Should your applause to joy convert his fear, No acted fears my vanity betray!
As Pallas turns to feast Lardella's bier; I am, indeed-what others only play. | Yet 'twould have been a better scheme, by half, Thus far myself. The farce comes next in view; To have thrown his weeds aside, and learnt Though many are its faults, at least 'tis new.
with me to laugh. No smuggled, pilfer'd scenes from France we I could have shown him, had he been inclin'd, show;
A spouting junto of the female kind. 'Tis English-English, Sirs, from top to toe. There dwells a milliner in yonder row, Though coarse my colors, and my hand up. Well-dress'd, full-voic'd, and nobly built for From real life my little cloth is fill'd. (skillid,
show, My hero is a youth, by fate design'd
Who, when in rage she scolds at Sue and Sarah, For culling simples—but whose stage-struck | Damn'd, damn'd dissembler! thinks she's more mind
than Zara. Nor fate could rule, nor his indentures bind. She has a daughter too that deals in lace, A place there is, where such young Quixotes And sings- ponder well and Chevy-chase, meet;
And fain would fill the fair Ophelia's place; 'Tis call’d the spouting-club-a glorious treat! And in her cock'd-up hat, and gown of camlet, Where prenticed kings alarm the gaping street. Presumes on something touching the lord There Brutus starts and stares by midnight taper, Hamlet. Who all the day enacts a woollen-draper. (fist: A cousin too she has, with squinting eyes, Here Hamlet's ghost stalks forth with doubled With waddling gait, and voice like London Cries out, with hollow voice, “ List, list, o cries, list !"
[bacconist. Who, for the stage too short by half a story, And frightens Denmark's prince a young to- | Acts Lady Townly-thus—in all her glory;
• The action of the Winter's Tale, as written by Shakspeare, comprehends sixteen years.
And, while she's traversing her scanty room, 1$ 5. Prologae to the Author. 1757. FOOTE. Cries—“ Lord, my lord, what can I do at Severe their task, who, in this critic age, home?"
With fresh materials furnish out the stage! In short, there's girls enough for all the fellows, Not that our fathers drain'd the comic store ; The ranting, whining, starting, and the jealous, Fresh characters spring up as heretofore. The Hotspurs, Romeos, Hamlets, and Othellos. | Nature with novelty does still abound; O! little do these silly people know
On ev'ry side fresh follies may be found. What dreadful trials actors undergo.
But then the taste of every guest to hit, Myself, who most in harmony delight, To please at once the gallery, box, and pit, Am scolding here from morning until night. Requires, at least, no comgjon share of wit. Then take advice by me, ye giddy things,
Those who adorn the orb of higher life, Ye royal milliners, ye apron'd kings!
Demand the lively rake or modish wife; Young men, beware, and shun our slippery Whilst they who in a lower circle move, Study arithmetic, and burn your plays; (ways, Yawn at their wit, and slumber at their lore. And you, ye girls, let not our tinsel train If light low mirth employs the comic scene, Enchant your eyes, and turn your maddning Such mirth as drives from vulgar minds the brain :
spleen, Be timely wise ; for, O! be sure of this: | The polish'd critic damns the wretched stuff, A shop, with virtue, is the height of bliss. And cries-"'Twill please the gallries well
Such jarring judgements who can reconcile? $ 53. Epilogue to the Reprisal. 1757. Spo- |
Since fops will frown, where humble traders
smile. - ken by Miss MACKLIN.
To dash the poet's ineffectual claim, Aye-now I can with pleasure look around, And quench his thirst for universal fame, Safe as I am, thank Heaven, on English ground. The Grecian fabulist in moral lay In a dark dungeon to be stow'd away,
Has thus address'd the writers of his day: 'Midst roaring, thund'ring, danger, and dismay; Once on a time, a son and sire, we're told, Expos'd to fire and water, sword and bullet The stripling tender, and the father old, Might damp the heart of any virgin pullet. | Purchas'd a jack-ass at a country fair, I dread to think what might have come to pass, To ease their limbs, and hawk about their ware; Had not the British lion quell'd the Gallic ass. But as the sluggish aniinal was weak, By Champignon a wretched victim led
They fear'd, if both should mount, his back To cloister'd cell, or more detested bed,
would break : My days in pray'r and fasting I had spent; Up gets the boy, the father leads the ass, As nun, or wite, alike a penitent.
And through the gazing crowd attempts to pass; His gallantry, so confident and eager,
Forth from the throng the greybeards hobbleout, Had prov'd a mess of delicate soup-meagre. | Aud hail the cavalcade with feeble shout. To bootless longings I had fell a nartyr; “ This the respect to rev'rend age you show, But Heaven be prais'd, the Frenchman caught | And this the duty you to parents owe? a Tartar.
He beats the hoof, and you are set astride : Yet soft-our author's fate you must decree; Sirrah! get down, and let your father ride." Shall he come safe to port, or sink at sea ? As Grecian lads are seldom void of grace, Your sentence, sweet or bitter, soft or sore, The decent duteous youth resign'd his place. Floats his frail bark, or runs it bump ashore- Then a fresh murmar through the rabble ran, Ye wits above, restrain your awful thunder; Boys, girls, wives, widows all attack the man. In his first cruize 'twere pity he should founder.“ Sure never was brute beast so void of nature!
[To the gallery. | Have you vo pity for the pretty creature? Safe from your shot, he fears no other foe, | To your own baby can you be unkind? No gulf but that which horrid yawns below. Here--Suke, Bill, Betty-put the child be [To the Pit. hind.”
[claim'd: The bravest chiefs, e'en Hannibal and Cato, Old Dapple next the clown's compassion Have here been tam'd with--pippin and potatoe. "'Tis wonderinentthem boobies ben't ashamn d! Our bard embarks in a more Christian cause, Two at a time upon the poor dumb beast ! He claims not mercy, but he clains applause, They might as well have carried him, at least.“ His pen against the hostile French is drawn, The pair, still pliant to the partial voice, Who damns him is no Antigallican.
Dismount, and bear the assThen what a noise! Indulg'd with fav'ring gales and smiling skies, Huzzas, loud laughs, low gibe, and bitter joke, Hereafter he may board a richer prize.
From the yet silent sire, these words provoke: But if this welkin angry clouds deform, J“ Proceed, my boy, nor heed their farther call;
(Looking round the house. Vain hisatteinpts, who strives to please them all ** Aud hollow groans portend th' approaching storm;
[To the gallery.
$ 55. Prologue to the Trip to Paris. Spokea Should the descending show'rs of hail redouble, by Mr. Suurer, at one of his Benefits. And these rough billows hiss, and boil, and
[To the pit. In former times there liv'd one Aristotle, He'll launch no more on such fell seas of trouble. Who, as the song says, lovd, like me, his bottle.
To Alexander Magnus he was lutor- 1 Then, as to their dinners, their soups, and
[agog! from France.
[ter; For a slice of roast beef how my mind was From Paris I came; why I went there, no mat- But for beef they produced me a fricaseed frog : I'm glad that once more I'm on this side the Out of window I toss'd it, it wa’n't fit to eat, water.
Then down stairs I jump'd, and ran into the 'Twas to win a large wager that hurried me over; street.
[mine But I wish'd to be off when I came down to 'Twas not their palaver could make me deterDover ;
To stay where I found it was taste to eat vermin: To swallow sea-water the doctors will tell ye, Frogs in France may be fine, and their Grand But the sight of such water at once fill'd my Monarque clever;
(for ever! belly;
(sea, I'm for beef, and King George, and old England They who choose it for physic inay drink of the But only to think on't is physic for me. When I first went on board, Lord! I heard such a racket,
$ 56. Epilogue to the Minor. 1760. Such babbling and squabbling, fore and aft,
Near the mad mansions of Moorfields I'll through the packet;
bawl ; The passengers bawling, the sailors yoho-ing, I Theshipalong dashing, the winds aloft blowing;
8. Friends, fathers, mothers, sisters, sons, and all,
Shut up your shops, and listen to my call. Some sick, and some swearing, some singing, some shrieking,
"8), With labor, toil, all second means, dispense, Sails hoisting, blocks rattling, the yards and
| And live a rent-charge upon Providence. brooms creaking;
| Prick up your ears; a story now I'll tell,
So Which once a widow and her child befell; Stop the ship!-but the tars, never ininding Took their chaws, hitch'd their trowsers, and
I knew the mother and her daughter well: grinn'd in our faces.
Poor, it is true, they were, but never wanted,
For whatsoe'er they ask'd was always granted. We madeCalais soon, and were soon set on shore,
One fatal day the matron's truth was tried, And I trod on French ground, where I ne'er
She wanted meat and drink, and faintly cried. trod before.
' [Yo, yo-ho.
Child. Mother, you cry!
Mother. () child ! I've got no bread.
Child. What matters that? Why, Provi.
[plaisance ; 'Twas quite t'other thing, mun, 'twas all com
dence an't dead!
| With reason good the child this truth might With cringes and scrapes we were welcom'd
For there came in at noon, that very day, to France :
Bread, greens, potatoes, and a leg of mutton, Ah, Monseer Angloy-they criedbe on ven nu,
| A better sure a table ne'er was put on. Tres umble servant, Sir, we glad to see you.
| Ay, that might be, ye cry, with those poor souls: I ne'er met such figures before in my rambles,
But we ne'er had a rasher for the coals. They flock'd round my carcase like Aies in the
And d'ye deserve it? How d'ye spend your shambles :
In pastimes, prodigality, and plays! [days? To be crowded amongst them at first I was loth, 11. Par
Let's go see Foote; 0, Foote's a precious Timb! For fear they should seize me, and souse me for
Old Nick will soon a foot-ball make of him! broth.
For foremost rows in side-boxes you shove: At last though, they call’d memy Lor Angleterre,
Think you to meet with side-boxes above, (Lord, had you then seen but my strut and my
Where giggling girls and powder'd fops may sits stare !)
No, you will all be cramm'd into the pit, Wee, wee, I cried, wee then-and put on a sword;
| And crowd the house for Satan's benefit.So at once Neddy Shuter turn d into a lord.
0! what, you snivel?-Well, do so no moreI expected at France all the world and his wife, But I never was balk'd so before in my life :
· Drop, to atone, your money at the door,
| And if I please-I'll give it to the poor. I should see wonders there, I was told by ! Monseer;
[queer; So I did, I saw things that were wonderful Queer streets and queer houses, with people 8 57. Prologue to Polly Honeycombe. 1760.
much queerer ; Each one was a talker, but no one a hearer.
GARRICK. I soon had enough of their pallovousee; Hither,in days of yore, from Spainor France, Its a fine phrase to some folks, but nonsense Came a dread sorceress, her name Romance : to me.
[show, O'er Britain's isle her wayward spells she cast, Al folks there are dress'd in a toyshop-like And Common Sense in magic chain bound fast. A hodge-podging habit 'twixt fiddler and beau; | In mad sublime did each fond lover woo, Such hats, and such heads too, such coats and And in heroics ran each billet-doux : such skirts
[shirts. High deeds of chivalry their sole delight, They sold me some ruffles—but I found the Each fair a maid distress d, each swain a knight.
Then might Statira Oroondates see
Resolv'd that in buskins no hero should stalk, At tilts and tournaments, arm'd cap-a-pie. He has shut us quite out of the tragedy-walk. She too, on milk-white palfrey, lance in hand, ! No blood, no blank verse-in short we're unA dwarf to guard her, pranc'd about the land. done,
This fiend to quell, his sword Cervantes drew, Unless you're contented with frolic and fun. A trusty Spanish blade, Toledo true:
If, tir'd of her round in the Ranelagh mill, Her talismans and magic wand he hroke; There should be one female inclin'd to sit still; Knights, genii, castles, vanish'd into smoke. If, blind to the beauties, or sick of the squall,
But now, the dear delight of later years, A party shouldn't choose to catch cold at VauxThe younger sister of Romance appears :
[thick, Less solemn is her air, her drift the same, If at Sadler's sweet Wells the wine should be And Novel her enchanting, charming name. The cheesecakes be sour, or Miss Wilkinson Romance might strike our grave forefathers' sick,
[in June, pomp,
If the fume of the pipe should prove pow'rful But Novel for our buck and lively romp ! Or the tumblers be lame, or the bells out of tune; Cassandra's folios now no longer read,
We hope you will call at our warehouse in See two neat pocket-volumes in their stead!
(ye, And then, so sentimental is the style,
We've a curious assortment of goods, I assure So chaste, yet so bewitching all the while! Domestic and foreign, indeed all kind of wares, Plot and elopement, passion, rape, and rapture, | English cloth, Irish linens, and French pet-enThe total sum of ev'ry dear-dear-chapter.
l'airs. 'Tis not alone the small-talk and the smart, If, for want of good custom, or losses in trade, 'Tis Novel most beguiles the female heart. The poetical partners should bankrupts be Miss reads-she melts-she sighs-love steals made;
(in debt, upon her
If, from dealings too large, we plunge deeply And then-alas, poor girl!-good night, poor And a Whereas comes out in the Muses' Gazette, Honor!
We'll on you, our assigns, for certificates call; • Thus of our Polly having lightly spoke, Though insolvents, we're honest, and give up Now for our author-but without a joke.
our all. Though wits and journals, who ne'er fibb'd
before, Have laid this bantling at a certain door, $ 59. Epilogue to the Liar, 1761; between Where, lying store of faults, they'd fain heap Miss Grantham and Old Wilding, more,
M. Gr. Hold, Sir! I now declare it, as a serious truth,
Our plot concluded, and strict justice done, "Tis the first folly of a simple youth,
Let me be heard, as counsel for your son. Caught and deluded by our harlot plays | Acquit I can't, I mean to mitigate; Then crush not in the shell this infant Bayes! Proscribe all lying, what would be the fate Exert your favor to a young beginner; Of this and every other earthly state? Nor use the stripling like a batter'd sinner*.'. Consider, Sir, if once you cry it down,
You'll shut up every coffee-house in town;
The tribe of politicians will want food, 858. Prologue to All in the Wrong. 1701.
| Even now half-famish'd-for the public good;
All Grub-street murderers of men and sense, Written and spoken by Mr. Foote.
And every office of intelligence, TO-NIGHT, be it known to box, gall’ries, All would be bankrupts, the whole lying race, and pit,
| And no Gazette to publish their disgrace. Will be open the original warehouse of wit; 0. Wild. Too mild a sentence! Must the The new manufacture, Foote and Co. under good and great takers,
Patriots be wrong'd, that booksellers may eat? Play, opera, pantomime, farce-by the makers. M. Gr. Your patience, Sir; yet hear another We scorn, like our brethren, our fortunes to
[Rowe: Turn to that hall where Justice wields her To Shakspeare and Southerne, to Otway and Think in what narrow limits you would draw, Though our judgement may err, yet our justice | By this proscription, all the sons of law: is shown,
[own; | For 'tis the fix'd determind rule of courts, For we promise to mangle no works but our (Viner will tell you—nay, even Coke's Reports) And moreover, on this you may firmly rely, All pleaders may, when difficulties rise, If we can't make you laugh, that we won't To gain one truth expend a hundred lies. make you cry;
O. Wild. To curb this practice I am someFor our monarch, who knew we were mirth- what loth ; loving souls,
| A lawyer has no credit but on oath. [show; Has lock'd up his lightuing, his daggers, and M. Gr. Then to the softer sex some favor bowls;
| Leave us possession of our modest No!
• These lines were added by Mr.Garrick, on its being reported that he was the author of the piece; and, however humorous and poetical, contain as strict matter of fact as the dullest prose.