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And, spite of all her virtue and ambition, Distrest alike the statesman and the wit,
The busy candidates for power and fame
| "Uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage, Rais'd such a tragi-comic kind of pother, As mongrels bay the lion in a cage. You laugh'd with one eye, wbile you cried with Th' offended burgess hoards bis angry tale, t'other.
For that blest year when all that vote may rail; What can be done!--sad work behind the Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss, scenes!
Till that glad night when all that hate may hiss. There comic females scold with tragic queens; « This day the powder'd curls and golden Each party diff'rent ways the foe assails,
coat," These shake the daggers, those prepare their Says swelling Crispin, “ begg'd a cobbler's Dails.
vote;" 'Tis you alone must calm these dire mishaps, “ This night our wit,” the pert apprentice Or we shall still continue pulling caps.
cries, What is your will ?-I read it in your faces “ Lies at my feet; I hiss him, and he dies." That all hereafter take their proper places, The great, 'tis true, can charm the electing Shake hands, and kiss, be friends, and burn
The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe.
Trusts without fear to merit and to you.
$ 73. Prologue to False Delicacy. 1763. Spo Which beating here, superior to all art,
ken by Mr King. GARRICK. Bursts in full tides from a most grateful heart.
I'm vex'd—quite vex'd-and you'll be vad I now appear myself, distress'd, dismay'd, More than in all the characters I've play'd ;
To deal with stubborn scribblers—there's the In acted passion, tears may seem to flow, “ But I have that within that passeth show."
Write moral plays the blockhead! Before I go, and this lov'd spot forsake,
good people, What gratitude can give, my wishes, take:
You'll soon expect this house to wear a steeple! Upon your hearts may no affliction prey,
For our fine piece, to let you into facts, Which cannot by the stage be chas'd away; And may the stage, to please each virtuous | You'll scarce believe me, till the proof appears:
Is quite a serinon-only preach'd in acts. mind,
But even I, Tom Fool, must shed some tears; Grow ev'ry day more moral, more refind,
Do, ladies, look upon menay, no simpering; Refin'd from grossness, not by foreign skill:
Think you this face was ever made for whimWeed out the poison, but be English still!
p'ring? To all my brethren whom I leave behind,
Can I a cambric handkerchief display, Still may your bounty, as to me, be kind;
Thump my unfeeling breast, and roar away? To me for many years your favours flow'd,
| Why this is comical, perhaps you'll say.. Humbly receiv' d on small desert bestow'd :
Resolving this strange awkward bard to pump. For which I feel what cannot be expressid
I ask'd him what he meant?-He, somewhat Words are 100 weak my tears must speak the
plump, New-purs'd his belly, and his lips thus biting “ I must keep up the dignity of writing!
“ You may; but if you do, sir, I must tell re, $72. Prologue to the Good-natured Man. 1768.
You'll not keep up that dignity of belly."
Still he preach'd on—" Bards of the former as Prest by the load of life the weary mind Held up abandon'd pictures on the stage ; Surveys the gen'ral toil of human kind, Spread out their wit with fascinating art, With cool submission joins the lab'ring train, | And catch'd the fancy, to corrupt the beart: And social sorrow loses half its pain :
But, happy change in these more moral dar, Our anxious bard without complaint may share You cannot sport with virtue, even in plas; This bustling season's epidemic care ;
On virtue's side his pen the poet draws, Like Cæsar's pilot dignified by fate,
And boldly asks a hearing for his cause." Tost in one common storm with all the great; Thus did he prance and swell. The man snat
prate, • The last scene of Lady Macbeth. And feed these whimsies in his addle pate,
That you'll protect his Muse because she's good: Thus fleec'd-in my pocket I felt a great smartA virgin, and so chaste!-O lud! O lud!
ing; No muse the critic beadle's lash escapes ;
| Yet griev'd not when I and the splinters were Though virtuous, if a dowdy and a trapes :
parting, If his come forth a decent likely lass,
'Twas worth ten times more to heat sweet You'll speak her fair, and grant the proper pass :
brother Marlin. Or should his brain be turn dwith wild pretences, He spoke, 'till poor Scrub was just fit, with In three hours time you'll bring him to bis senses; one eye And well you may, when in your pow'r you get To laugh, while the other was ready to cry;
| Which makes me now tell you, without any In that short space, you blister, bleed, and... brag, sweat him.
He's a second to none but the Warwickshire
The Jubilee over, I came to this place,
You never refus'd it-vet never before,
| With granting such kindness, bound gratitude $74. Scrub's Trip to the Jubilee. 1769.
more. Spoken by Mr. Weston.
I live but to own, with a diligent spirit, FROM Stratford arriv'd-piping hot-gentle-Your favors have ever outrun my slight merit.
folks, From the rarest of shows, and most wonderful jokes,
$75. Prologue to Doctor Last in his Chariot: Your simple acquaintance, Scrub, comes to de
1769. Spoken by Mr. Foote. GARRICK. clare, 'Twas fuller, by far, than our Lichfield great fair; Your servant, kind masters, from bottom Such crowdsoraine ladies serenadingand singing, to top, Such firing of loud patereroes, and ringing- Be assur'd while I breathe, or can stand-I To tell it in London, must seem all a fable;
mean hop; And yet I will tell it-as well as I'm able. Be you pleased to smile, or be pleased 10 First, something, in lingo of schoolscalldan ode; grumble, All critics, they told me, allow'd very good : Be whatever you please, I am still your most One said you may take it for truth, I assure ye, humble. Twas made by the little great man of Old Drury, As to laugh is a right only given to man, By my brother Martin (for whose sake, d'ye To keep up that right is my pride and my plan. hear?)
Fair ladies, don't frown; I meant woman too: This night I'd a mind for a touch at Shaks- What's common to man, must be common to peare*;
you. But, honestly speaking, I take more delight in You all have a right your sweet muscles to curl, A bit of good fun, 'than drums, trumpets, and from the old smirking prude to the titt'ring fighting
young girl ; The procession, 'twas said, would have been a And ever with pleasure my brains I could spin, fine train,
To make you all giggle, and you, ye gods, grin. But could not move forward-Ola-for the rain! In this present summer, as well as the past, Such tragical, comical folks, and so fine To your favor again we present Dr. Last, What pity it was that the sun did not shine! | Who, by wonderful feats, in the papers reSince ladies, and baronets, aldermen, squires,
counted, All went to this jubilee full of desires, From trudging on foot to his chariot is mounted. In crowds, as they go for to see a new play; Amongst the old Britons when war was begun, And when it was done-why, they all came Charioteers would slay ten, while the foot away!
could slay one. Don't let me forget -a main part of the show, So when doctors on wheels with dispatches are Was long-tail'd fine comets, by fam'd Angelo.
sent. Some turtle I got, which they callid paspapee; | Mortality bills rise a thousand per cent. But honest roast beef's the best turtle for me. But think not to physic that quackery's confin'd; I hate all ragouts; and, like a bold Briton, | All the world is a stage, and the quacks are Prefer good plum pudding to aught I e'er bit on. I mankind : I drank too (and now I a poet may be) There's trade, law, and state quacks: nay, From a charming fine cup of the mulberry-tree, would we but search, To bed I must go for which, like a ninny, We should find Heaven bless us !- some I paid like my betters, no less than a guinea,
quacks in the church! For rolling--not sleeping-in linen so damp, The stiff band and stiff bob of the Methodis As struck my great toe, ever since, with the race, cramp. .
Give the balsam of life and the tincture of grace;
And their poor wretched patients think much • This alludes to Mr. Weston's design of good is done 'em, playing Richard.
Though blisters and caustics are ever upon 'em. As for laws and the state, if quackery's a curse, “ The stage so loosely did Astrea tread, Which will make the good bad, and the bad She fairly put all characters to bed." will make worse,
Though now no bard would venture to deposit We should point out the quack from the regu- A macaropi in a lady's closet; lar brother;
| Lest the frail fair-one he be thought to ruin, They are wiser than I who can tell one from “ While moon and stars alone" see what t'other!
they're doing. Can the stage with its bills, puffs, and patients in the old plays, gallants take no denial, stand trial?
But put the struggling actress to the trial. Shall we find out no quacks in the Theatre- | Bless me! I shudder even now to think, Royal ?
How near myself may come to danger's brink! Some dramatical drugs, that are puffd on the In modern plays more safe the female station town,
Secure as our sad solemn situation! Cause many wry faces, and scarce will go down. No rakish forward spark dares now be rude, Nay, an audience sometimes will in quack'ry | TheConic Muse herself's grown quite a prude! delight,
No wonder, then, if in so pure an age And sweat down an author some pounds in one No Congreves write for as demure a stage !
night. To return to our quack-should he, help'd by
the weather, Raise laughter and kind perspiration together; Should his nostrums of hip and of vapours but $ 77. Prologue to The School for Rakes. 1774. cure ye,
Spoken by Mr. King. GARRICK. His chariot he well can deserve, I assure ye: 'Tis easy to set up a chariot in town, 1. The scribbling gentry ever frank and free, And easier still is that chariot laid down. To sweep the stage with prologues, fix on me, He petitions by me, both as doctor and lover, A female representative l'come, That you'll not stop his wheels, or his chariot And with a prologue, which I call a broom, tip over.
To sweep the critic cobwebs from the room. Fix him well, I beseech you; the worst on't Critics, like spiders, into corners creep, would be,
And at new plays their bloody revels keep: Should you overturn him, you may overset mc. With some small venom close in ambusti lie,
| Ready to seize the poor dramatic fly:
The weak and heedless soon become their prey,
But the strong blue-bottle will force its way, $76. Epilogue to the Duellist. 1773. Spool Clean well its wings, and hum another day. ken by Miss Barsanti.
Unknown to nature's laws, we're here one evil;
For flies, turn'd spiders, play the very devil! So, men of valour! you dislike our play: | Fearing some danger, I will lay before ye Nothing against it do the ladies say.
A short, true, recent, tragi-comic story. To own they're pleas'd the critics ever loath, As late ( saunter'd in the Park for air, Mutter, “A Duellist, with scarce an oath! As free from thought as any coxcomb there, 'Tis like his hat that was without a feather; Two sparks came up; one whisper'd in my ear, Duels and dammes always go together.” He was a critic; then ask'd me, with a sneer Old sinners, loving the licentious joke, Thus standing, staring with a swaggering May think there wants too, here and there, a swing, stroke;
“ You've writ a farce?"-"Yes, Sir, a foolish Round oaths and double meanings strew'd be thing :" tween,
“Damn'd foolish-You'd better mind your With them the virtues of the comic scene,
acting, King. And yet the town in gen'ral is so nice, | 'Tis ten to one-I speak it for your sake, It holds these virtues as a kind of vice:
That this same farce will prove your wit's From the teeth outwards chaste, their hands last Stake." before 'em,
“I scribble for amusement, boast no pow'rs."Like reps, even demi-reps, are all decorum. "Write for your own amusement, not for ours." Though gross their thoughts, so delicate their Thus he went on; and with his pleasant talkhearing,
ing, They think ihe very stage should fine for I lost the appetite I got with walking
He laugh'd how d—but ere I could retreat, Our author therefore scrupled to employ His lisping friend did thus the dose repeat: Your vulgar Damme, sir! and Damme, boy!“ Pray, Sir,--this School for Rakes the woNay, when by chance a naughty joke came man's playpat in,
| When do you give it us?"-"Next Saturday. He wrapt it up, you know, in lawyer's Latin. I hope you 'll both be kind to her, at least." So much refind the scene since former days, “a scribbling woman is a dreadful beast! When Congreve, Vanburgh, Wycherley wrote Then they're so ugly, all the female wits plays,
I'll damın her play to throw her into fits.
Had I my will, those slattern sluttish dames- In this town of Stratford we'll have each ingre-
[Looking about the house. I'll now squeeze my fruit, put sugar and rum Don't show your spite; for if you are not quiet, in, [coming, a coming, a coming! 'Tis ten to one-I speak it for your sake, And be back in a moment [Bell rings] A This School for Rakes will prove your Wit's
last Stake: As you [To the Pit] save me from their tyrannic will,
$79. Prologue to the Christmas Tale. 1774. You will not let them use a woman ill.
GARRICK. Protect her and her brat- the truly brave
Music plays, and enter several persons with Women and children will for ever save.
different kinds of dishes. Enter Mr. Palmer in the Character of Christ,
Go on-prepare my bounty for my friends, 878. Prologue to the Jubilee. 1769. Spoken | And see that Mirth, with all her crew, attends. by Mr. King in the Character of a Waiter.
To the Audience. GARRICK. Behold a personage, well known to fame, From London, your honors, to Stratford I'm Once lov'd and honord -Christmas is my come:
name! I'm a waiter, your honors; you know bustling My officers of state my taste display; Tom ;
Cooks, scullions, pastry-cooks, prepare my way; Who, proud of your orders, and bowing before Holly and ivy round me honors spread,
And my retinue show-I'm not ill-fed ; Till supper is ready, I'll tell ye a story. | Minc'd pies, by way of belt, my breast divide, "Twixt Hounslow and Colnbrook, two And a large carving-knife adorns my side, houses of fame,
'Tis no fop's weapon, 't will be often drawn: Well known on that road, the two Magpies by This turban for my head is collar'd brawn. name :
Though old, and white my locks, my cheeks The one of long standing, the other a new one; are cherry: This boasts it's the old one, and that it's the Warm'd by good fires, good cheer, I'm always true one.
merry, Sure we, the old Magpie, as well as the younger, With carol, fiddle, dance, and pleasant tale, May boast that our liquor is clearer and stronger. Jest, gibe, prank, gambol, mummery, and ale, Of bragging and puffing you make but a jest; 1 English hearts rejoic'd in days of yore; You taste of us both and will stick to the best. For new strange modes, imported by the score, A race we have had for your pastime and You will not sure turn Christmas out of door ! laughter;
Suppose yourselves well seated by a fire, Young Mag started first, with old Mag hopping (Stuck close, you seem more warı than you after.
desire) 'Tis said the old house hath possess'd a receipt Old Father Christmas, now in all his glory, To make a choice mixture of sour, strong, and Begs with kind hearts you'll listen to his story; sweet ;
Clear well your thoughts from politics and A Jubilee punch, which, right skilfully made, spleen, Insur'd the old Magpie a good running trade: Hear my tale out, see all that's to be seen, But think you we mean to monopolizei-No, Take care, my children, that you well behave: do,
You, Sir, in blue, red cape, not quite so grave: We are like brother Ashley, pro publico bono, That critic there in black-so stern and thin, Each Magpie, your honours, will pick at his Before you frown, pray let the tale beginbrother,
You in the crimson capuchin, I fear you; And their natures were always to crib from each Why, madam, at this time so cross appear you? other.
Excuse me, pray—I did not see your husband Young landlords and old ones are taught by near you. their calling
[ing Don't think, fair ladies, I expect that you To laugh at engrossing—but practise forestall. Should hear my tale-you've something else to Our landlords are game-cocks, and fair play but do; grant 'em,
Nor will our beaux old English fair encourage; I'll warrant you pastime from each little ban- No foreign taste could e'er digest plum porridge. tam.
I have no sauce to quicken lifeless sinners; Let's return to the punch–I hope from my My food is meant for honest hearty grinners. soul,
For you, your spirits with good stomachs bring, That now the old Magpie may sell you a bowl. O make the neighb'ring roof with rapture ring: We have all sorts and sizes, a quick trade to Open your mouths, pray, swallow every thing! drive,
Critics, beware how you our pranks despise ; As one shilling, two shilling, three shilling, Hear well my tale, or you shan't touch my pies; five :
The proverb change- Be merry but not wise. damps,
80. Prologue to the Maid of the Oaks. | The Greek Gazettes (for they had papers there), 1774. Spoken by Mr. King in the Character Publish'd a thousand fibs as they do here, of Fame.
GARRICK. From them one Curtius wrote of Philip's son, Unlike to ancient Fame, all eyes, tongues,
How he did things which never could be ears,
Unlike his copy, who will soon appear, (done! See modern Fame, arm'd cap-a-pie, appears,
His mighty soul ne'er knew the smallest fear: In ledgers, chronicles, gazeties, and gazetteers! Tho' laurel-crown'd our pale young monarch My soaring wings are fine election speeches,
comes And puffs of candidates supply my breeches.
Trembling amidst his triumphs, shouts, and My cap is satire, criticism, wit
drums; Is there a head that wants it in the pit?
Would give up all his vict'ries, false or true,
Offering it. To gain one greater conquest—that of you. No flowing robe and trumpet me adorn;
“Lord !" cries a buxom widow, loud and I wear a jacket, and I wind a horn.
strong, Pipe, song, and pastoral. for five months past. He's quite a boy! to play that part is wrong." Puff'd well by me, have been the general taste.
“Madam, he's six feet high, and cannot be Now Marybóne shines forth to gaping crowds;
too young." Now Highgate glitters from her bill of clouds; / St. George's Fields, with taste and fashion
Can he with proper spirit draw his sword? [is,
A face so smooth where neither rage nor pride struck, Display Arcadia at the Dog and Duck:
Fits not the hero."- Fronti nulla fides.And Drury Misses here, “in tawdry pride,
In English thus : Trust not to looks, they'l Are there Pastoras by the fountain side."
cheat us : To frowsy bow'rs they reel through midnight
Bounc'd not Sir Swagger lately, as he'd beat us.
And was not he, with all his frowns and airs, With Fauns half drunk, and Dryads breaking By
By one who seem'd all meekness, kick d down lamps.
stairs ? Both far and near did this new whimsy run, Miss B-, all delicacy, nerve, and fear, One night it frisk'd, forsooth, at Islington.
Elop'd last week with a horse grenadier! And now, as for the public bound to cater,
| And our advent'rer, through so mild and civil, Our manager must have his féte champêtre.
| If you once rouse him, plays the rery devil! How is the weather :-Pretty clear and bright. “Indeed!" cries madam, “Sir, I'm much
your debtor; A storin's the devil on champêtre night! I should be glad to know the young man befLest it should fall to spoil the author's scenes, I'll catch this gleam, to tell you what he means: 1. Twice our young hero, who for glory tow'ss, He means a show as brilliant as at Cox's,
| In fields less dang'rous tried his unknown Langh for the pit, and may be at the boxes;
... pow'rs, Song, chorus, frolic, dance, and rural play,
Like a young swimmer, whom his fears com The merry-making of a wedding day.
mand, Whose is the piece? _'Tis all surmise, sugges. In shallow streams first ventur'd from the land, tion
Till, bolder grown, the rougher wave he stems, Is't his, or hers, or yours, Sir? That's the ques
Plunges from giddy heights into the Thames. The parent, bashful, whimsical, or poor,
E'en now he starts to hear the torrent roar, Left it a puling infant at the door;
While his pale fates stand frighted on the shore! 'Twas laid on How'rs, and wrapp'd in fancied Soon will he leap the precipice Your nod cloaks,
Sinks him, or lifts him to a demi-god.
| $ 82. Prologue spoken by Mr. Yates, on apexThe actors crowded round-the girls caress'd
ing a new Theatre, built for him by the Isit:
[bless'd it; Lord! the sweet pretty babe!—they prais'd and
| habitants of Birmingham. FOOTE.
From fiddling, fretting, monsieur, and sigoot. The master peep'd, smild, took it in, and dress'd it.
And all the dangers of the Italian shore; Whate'er its birth, protect it from the curse
From squeaking monarchs and chromatic Of being smother'd by a parish nurse:
queens, As you're kind, rear it--if you're curious, praise
And Metastasio's mix'd and mangled scenes, it:
Where Fashion, and not Feeling, bears the And ten to one but vanity betrays it.
sway, | Whilst Sense and Nature coyly keep away,
I come.--All hail the consecrated earth,
Whose bounteous bosom gave our Shakspean $ 81. Occasional Prologue, upon Mr. Lacy's
birth! first Appearance in the Character of Alexan- | Gave that great master of the scenic art der.
| To feed the fancy, and correct the heart; In Macedon when Alexander reign't, Ind victory after victory was gain'd;
• Shakspeare was born in Warwickshire