Before the play, to skirmish and to sc mi
Our dreadful foes, the critics, when they sm
They cock, they charge, they fire-heat
they fly.

The beaux, she thinks, won't fail to do her New plays-ere acted, a full audience mete,
right,
[fight. Seem towns infested, when a siege they far.
Since here they're taught with safety how to Prologues are like a forlorn hope, sent out
She's sure of favour from the men of war,
A soldier is her darling character :
To fear their murmurs then would be absurd,
They only mutiny when not preferr'd.
But yet, I see, she does your fury dread,
And, like a pris'ner, stands with fear half dead,
While you, her judges, do her sentence give;
If you 're not pleas'd, she says, she cannot live.
Let
my petition then for once prevail;
And let your gen'rous hands her pardon seal.

'§ 24. Prologue to Love makes a Man; 1704.
CIBBER.

SINCE plays are but a kind of public feasts,
Wheretickets only make the welcome guests:
Methinks, instead of grace, we should prepare
Your tastes in prologue, with your bill of fare:
When you foreknow each course, tho' this
may tease you,
[you.
'Tis five to one but one o' th' five may please
First, for the critics, we've your darling cheer,
Faults without number, more than sense can
bear;

You're certain to be pleas'd where errors are.
From your displeasure I dare vouch we're safe;
You never frown but where your neighbours
laugh.

Now, you that never know what spleen or hate
is,

Who for an act or two are welcome gratis,
That tip the wink, and so sneak out with

nunquam satis;

The siege is laid-there gallant chiefs
bound,
[troops arou
Here. foes intrench'd, there—_litt
And the loud batt'ries roar-from yonder.
ing ground.

In the first act, brisk sallies (miss or hit,
With vollies of small shot, or snip-snap s
Attack, and gail the trenches of the pit.
The next-the fire continues, but at le
Grows less, and slackens like a brideg
strength.

The third-feints, mines, and counterma
Your critic engineers, safe under ground,
abound;
Blow up our works, and all our art

found.

The fourth-brings on most action, and sharp,

[

Fresh foes crowd on. at your remiss
And desp'rate, though nnskill'd, insult
counterscarp.

The poet-governor now quakes for fest,
Then comes the last; the genʼral stormi
Runs wildly up and down, forgets to ha
So-Don, and Monsieur-Bluff, beâr
And would give all he's plunder'd-tor

siege,

Were quickly tam'd-at Venlo, and at Is Twas Viva .agnia! Tira France! bt For your smart tastes we've toss'd you up a fop, But what your resolution can withsta Now, Quartier, Monsieur! Quartier! A§§• We hope the newest that 's of late come up; You master all, and awe the sea and h The fool, beau, wit, and rake so mix'd, he car-In war-your valour makes the strong He seems a ragout piping hot from Paris. [ries, Your judgment humbles all attempts a But for the softer sex, whom most we'd move; What play, what fort, what beauty car We've what the fair and chaste were form'd All fierce assaults, and always be secur Then grant 'em gen'rous terms who write,

for-love:

An artless passion, fraught with hopes and
fears,

And nearest happy when it most despairs.
For masks, we've scandal, and for beaux,
French airs.

To please all tastes, we'll do the best we can;
For the galleries, we 've Dicky and Will Pin-
kethman.

Now, Sirs, you're welcome, and you know-
your fare;

But pray, in charity, the founder spare,
Lest
you destroy at once the poet and the
play'r.

$25. Prologue to The Twin Rivals; 1706. FARQUHAR.

[An alarm sounded. WIT ITH drums and trumpets, in this warring age,

A martial prologue should alarm the stage.

Since now-that seems as desp'rate as
If we must yield—yet, ere the day be
Let us hold out the third, and, if we
sixth.

may you share good claret with your masters, ill free in your amours from their disasters; ee from poor house-keeping, where peck is under locks;

mons

At Cupid's-gardens will her hours regale,
Sing fair Dorinda, and drink bottled ale.
At all assemblies rakes are up and down,
And gamesters, when they think they are not
known.

Should I denounce our author's fate, to-day,
To cry down prophecies, you'd damn the lay!
Yet whims like these have sometimes made you
laugh,

'Tis tattling all like Isaac Bickerstaff.

Since war and places claim the bards that write,
Be kind, and bear a woman's treat to-night;
Let your indulgence all her fears allay,
And none but women-haters damn this play.

§ 28. Prologue to The Man's bewitch'd; 1710.
CENTLIVRE.

ee from cold kitchens, and no Christmas-box; may no long debates i' th' House of ComOUR female author trembling stands within, Her fear arises from another's sin; [mons; One of her sex has so abus'd the town, ake you i' th' lobby starve, when hunger sum- That on her score she dreads your angry frown; it may your plenteous vails come flowing in, Though I dare say, poor soul, she never writ ve you a lucky hit, and make you gentlemen: Lampoon, or satire, on the box or pit; ad, thus preferr'd, ne'er fear the world's re-A harmless hum'rous play is herextent of wit.

proaches,

it shake your elbows with my lord, and keep your coaches.

27. Prologue to The Busy Body; 1708. CENTLIVRE.

HOUGH modern prophets were expos'd of
late,

e author could not prophesy his fate :
with such scenes an audience had been fir'd,
e poet must have really been inspir'd.
at these, alas! are melancholy days,

Tho' Bickerstafi's vast genius may engage,
And lash the vice and follies of the age;
Why should the tender Delia tax the nation?
Stickle and make a noise for reformation,
Who alwaysgave a loose herself to inclination!
Scandal and satire's thrown aside to-day,
And humour the sole business of our play.
Beaux may dress on, to catch the ladies' hearts,
And good assurance pass for mighty parts:
The cits may bring their spouses without fear;"
We shew no wife that's poaching for an heir,
Nor teach the use of fine gauze hankerchier.
Cowards may huff, and talk of mighty wonders,
And jilts set up for twenty thousand pounders.
Our author, even though she knows full well,
Is so good-natur'd, she forbears to tell,
What colonels, lately, have found out the knack
To muster madam, still, by Ned or Jack,
To keep their pleasures up, a frugal way, [pay.
They give her-subaltern's subsistence for her
In short, whate'er your darling vices are.
[cease. They
shall But if all this can't your good nature wake,
untouched in this night's bill of fare.
pass
son a Tho' here and there a scene should fail to take,
Yet spare her for the Busy Body's sake.

or modern prophets, and for modern plays.
et since prophetic lies please fools of fashion,
ad women are so fond of agitation;
> men of sense I'll prophesy anew,
id tell you wondrous things that will prove

true.

adaunted colonels will to camps repair,
sur'd there'll be no skirmishes this year;
a our own terms will flow the wish'd-for

peace,

Il wars, except 'twist man and wife,
he Grand Monarque may wish his
throne,

at hardly will advance to lose his own.
his season most things bear a smiling face;
nt play'rs in summer have a disinal case,
ace your appearance only is our act of grace.
ourt ladies will to country seats be goue,
Is lord can't all the year five great in town:
Where wanting operas, basset, and a play,
hey'll sigh, and stitch a gown to pass the time

away.

y city wives at Tunbridge will appear, Whose husbands long have wished for an heir; Where many a courtier may their wants relieve, 3nt by the waters only they conceive. The Fleet-street sempstress-toast of Temple sparks, [clerks, That runs spruce neckcloths for attorneys!

$29. Epilogue to the same. Spoken by Mrs. Oldfield; 1710. CENTLIVRE.

[4 Porter delivers a Letter, just as she is going to speak.

WHAT's this? a billet doux! from hands

unknown?

My rain from this night commences,
Unless your smiles refund my senses;
For, with one thrust of Cupid's dart,
You's whipp'd your slave quite thro' the
Therefore, I beg you, cast your eye [heart:
O'er boxes, pit, and gallery;
In pity of my pains and doubt,
And try if you can't find me out.
Poor soul! he seems indeed in dismal plight;
Let's see! it can't be, sure! from th upper
flight,
[write:
No, no-that's plain-for-none of them can)
Nor can I think it from the middle fell,
For I'm afraid as few of them can spell;
Beside, their haggling passions never gain
Beyond the passage-walking nymphs of Drury-

Lane:

is

For this the tragic muse first trod the stage,
Commanding tears to stream through ev'ryagt
Tyrants no more their savage mature kepi,
And foes to virtue wonder'd how they we
Our author shuns by vulgar springs to more
The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;
In pitying love, we but our weakness »hm, ¦
And wild ambition well deserves its woe
Here tears shall flow from a more gen'roese
Such tears as patriots shed for dying la
He bids your breasts with ancient ardın
And calls forth Roma. drops from Bris
Virtue confess'd in human shape be draw
What Plato thought, and godlike ( tv-
No common object to your sight displays
But what with pleasure Heaven itseas
[rovers. A brave man struggling in the storms of
And greatly falling wish a faling state.
While Cato gives his little sevate laws,
|What bosom beats not in his eventy'sz
Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry de
Who hears him groan, and does not
bleed?

And then the pit's more stock'd with rakes and]
Than any of these senseless, whining lovers.
The backs o' th' boxes too seem mostly lin’d
With souls whose passion's to themselves con-
fin'd.

[sparks,

In short, I can't perceive, 'mongst all your
The wretch distinguish'd bythese bloody marks: Even when proud Cæser, 'midst triumphs
But since the town has heard your kind com-The spoils of nations, and the pomp of ***
mands, sir,
Ignobly vain, and impotently great,
The town shall e'en be witness of my answerShew'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn is
First then, beware you prove no spark in red,
With empty purse and regimental head;
That thinks no woman can refuse t'engage in't,
While love's advanc'd with offer'd buis on
agent;

[ing,

As her dead father's rev'rend image pe The pomp was darken'd, and the day c The triumph ceas'd, tears gush'd from The world's great victor pass'd unheed Her last good man dejected Rome adot That swears he'll settle from his joys commenc-And honour'd Cæsar's less than Cato's And make the babe, the day he's born, an ensign. Nor, could I hear a titled beau, that steals From fasting spouse her matrimonial meals; That modiso sends next morn to her apartment A civil how dye-far, alas! from ta' heart

micant:

Then powder'd for th' ensuing day's delights,
Bows thro' his crowd of duns, and drives to
White's.

Britons, attend; be worth like this ap And shew you have the virtue to be n With honest score the first fam'd Cato " Rome learningarts from Greece, whom? Our scene precariously subsists too long On French translation, and Italian sor Dere to have sense yourselves; assert is Be justly warm'd with your own native Such plays alone should please a British As Cato's self had not disdain'd to near.

$31. Prologue to Lady Jane Gray;" Row: TO-NIGHT the noblest subjectswells out

Nor could I like the wretch that all night plays,
And only takes his rest on winning days;
Then seis up, from a lucky hit, his ratiler;
Then's trac'd from his orig'ua-in the Tatler.
To tell you all that are my fix'd aversion,
Would ure the tongue of malice or aspersion. A heroine, a martyr, and a queen.
But if I find 'mongst all one gen'rous heart, And though the poet dares not boast his
That deaf to stories takes the stage's part; The very theme shall something great imp
That thinks that purse deserves to keep the To warn the gen'rous soul, and touch
plays,

[operas:

He, 1 declare, shall my whole heart receive: Aud (what's more strange) I'll love him while 1 live.

tender heart.

Whose fortune's bound for the support of To you, fair judges, we the cause subm
That thinks our constitution here is justly fix'd, Your eyes shall tell us how the tale is w
And now no more with lawyers' brawls per- If your soft pity waits upon our woe,
plex'd;
If silent tears for suff'ring virtue flow;
Your grief the muses' labour shall confess
The lively passions, and the just distress
O! could our author's pencil justly pami
Such as she was in life, the beauteous s
Boldly your strict attention might we clat
And bid you mark and copy out the dame
No wand'ring glance one wanton thoughtc®
fess'd,

$30. Prologue to Cato; 1713. POPE.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:

No guilty wish inflam'd her spotless breast,

e only love that warm'd her blooming yonth, as husband, England, liberty, and truth. these she feil; while, with too weak a hand, e strove to save a blind ungrateful land. thus the secret laws of fate ordain, iliam's great hand was doom'd to break that chain,

4 end the hopes of Rome's tyrannic reign. rever as the circling years return,

grateful Britous! crown the hero's urn;
Its just care you ev'ry blessing owe,
tiei or his own, or following reigns bestow:
ough his hard fate a father's name denied,
you a father, he that loss supplied.
en while you view the royal line's increase,
d count the pledges of your future peace,
un this great stock while still new glories
a pest abroad, and liberty at home; [come.
ail you behold the beautiful and brave,
gai prunessesto graes you, kings to save,
by the nit, but bless the hand that gave.

Epilogue to The Cruel Gift. Spoken by
Mes Obfield; 1717.
Rowe.

See how his looks his honest heart explain,
And speak the blessings of his future reign!
In his each feature truth and candour trace,
And read plain dealing written in his face.

$33. Epilogue to the Pseudolus of Plautus.
Acted by the Scholars of Bury School, No-
vember 6, 1734.

I

HAVE been peeping for these many days
I' th' tail of all the Greek and Latin plays,
And, after strictest search, to none can find
An epilogue, like dishclout, pinn'd behind.
Those ancient bards knew when the play was
done,

Nor, like Sir Martin Mar-all, still play'd on;
They imitated nature in their plan,
Nor made a monkey when they meant a man.
From modern fancy then this custom rose,
Like whimsical toupees among the beaux:
Monstrous excrescences! both which disgrace
(By being fix'd in an improper place)
Heaven's great production, man; man's great
production, plays.

Yet must we, though as foolish we decry TUL, 'twas a narrow 'scape my lover made-This mode, be fools in fashion, and comply; Ta cup and message-I was sore afraid! th a present for a new-made widow, in her dismal dacaps, like doleful Dido? en one pep'd in—and hop`d for something good,

rwis-0 gid! a nasty heart and blood.*
he old man had shew'd himself a father,
bowl should have inclos'd a cordial rather;
ething to cheer me apamidst my trance,
a de Barbade—or comfortable Nantz†
taught be paid it of with being smart,
d. to be witty, cried, he'd send the heart.
u'd have told his gravity, moreover,
rei our sex's secrets to discover,
what we never look for in a lover.
but the bridegroom prudently provide
other matters firting for a bride,

For rights, we know, howe'er absurdly gain'd
At first, with obstinacy are maintain'd:
Since then this privilege you will not lose,
Let's hear what sort of epilogue you'll choose.
Are you for satire? No; why there you're right:
The wisest can't foresee where that may light.
Are ye for polities? There we cry No,
Where that may light-you easily may know.
Another topic then, pray, ladies, hear;
Suppose a panegyric on the fair.

So, I perceive, I've touch'd the ticklish place;
And clearly read consent in ev'ry face.
O fie! consent so soon? that can't be right;
I hate such coming ladies-so good night.

$34. Epilogue to The Lying Valet; 1740.
GARRICK,

THAT I'm a lying rogue you all agree,
And yet, look round the world, and you
shall see,

e make good the jewels and the jointure, miss the heart does seldom disappoint her. in, for the fashion hearts of late are made in, y are the vilest bubles we can trade in. Here are the tough brave Britons to be found,That many more, my betters, lie as fast as me. th hearts of onk, so much of old renown'd? w many worthy gendemen of late

re to be true to mother-church and state; en their false hearts were secretly maintaining

Against this vice we are all ever railing, And yet, so tempting is it, so prevailing, You'll find but few without this useful failing. Lady or Abigail, my Lord or Will, The lie goes round, and the ball's never still. n trim king Pepin, at Avignon reigning? My lies were harmless, told to shew my parts, me on the canting crew of soul-insurers, And not like those, when tongues befie their at fy burn-tribe of speech-making nonjurors, In all professions you will find this flaw; [hearts. 10,in newfangled terms old truths explaining, And in the gravest too, in physic and in law. ich honest Englishmen damn'ddouble-mean- The gouty serjeant cries, with formal pause, ), would you lost integrity restore, [ing. Your plea is good, my friend, don't starve "the cause:"

1 boast that faith your plain forefathers bore;

66

at surer pattern can you hope to find [hind? But when my lord decrees for t'other side, an that dear pledge † your monarch left be- Your costs of suit convince you that he lied.

This tragedy was founded upon the story of Sigismunda and Guiscardo, out of Boccace's novels; ` in the heart of the lover is sent by the father to his daughter, as a present. .e. Citron-water and good brandy. The Prince of Wales, then present.

A doctor

No-with some nostrum I'd ensure my ins, Without the help of learning or degrees: [you; On drop or pill securely I'd rely,

A cleanly Dutchman, or a Frenchman grave,OUR Bard, to modern epilogue a foe.
A sober German, or a Spaniard brave,
AD Englishman, a coward or a slave.
Mine, though a fibbing, was an honest art ;
I serv'd my master, play'd a faithful part:
Rank me not, therefore, mongst the lying crew,
For, though my tongue was false, my heart

§35. Epilogue to Ignoramus, acted at West-He owns he triumph'd in your kind minster School in December 1747. Spoken by Ignoramus and Muscus, Ign. PEACE, bookworm! bless me what a clerk