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sorry for t:
0. Wild. O freely, Ma'am, we'll that allow- Theveriest clown, who stumps along the streets, ance give,
And doffs his hat to each grave cit he meets, So that two noes be held affirmative :
Some twelve months hence, bedawb'd with Provided ever, that your pish and fie,
livery lace, On all occasions, should be deem'd a lie. Shall thrust his saucy Aambeau in your face. M. Gr. Hard terms !
Not so our bard-though twice your kind apOn this rejoinder then I rest my cause :
plause Should all pay homage to truth's sacred laws, Has, on this fickle spot, espous'd his cause ; Let us examine what would be the case ; He owns with gratitude th' obliging debt ; Why, many a great man would be out of place. Has twice been favor’d, and is modest yet. O. Wild. "Twould many a virtuous character Your giant wits, like those of old, may climb restore.
Olympus-high, and step o'er space and time; M. Gr. But take a character from many more. May stride, with seven-league boots, from 0. Wild. Strong are your reasons; yet, ere
shore to shore, I submit,
And, nobly by transgressing, charm ye more. I mean to take the voices of the pit.
Alas ! our author dares not laugh at schools Is it your pleasures that we make a rule, Plain sense confines his humbler muse to rules: That ev'ry liar be proclaim'd a fool,
Heshifts noscene-But here I stopt him shortFit subjects for our author's ridicule? “ Not change your scenes ?" said I—" I'm
My constant friends above, around, below, $ 60. Prologue to the Earl of Esser. 1761.
Have English tastes, and love both change and
show : MURPHY.
Without suchaid even Shakspeare would be flat, Whene'er the brave, the gen'rous, and Our crowded pantomimes are proofs of that. the just,
What eager transport starts from ev'ry eye, Whene'er the patriot sinks to silent dust, When pulleys rattle, and our genii fly! The tragic muse attends the mournful hearse, When tin cascades, like falling waters, gleam, And pays
her tribute of immortal verse. Or through the canvas bursts the real stream; Inspir’d by noble deeds, she seeks the plain, While thirsty Islington laments, in vain, In honor's cause where mighty chiefs are slain; Half her New-river rolld 10 Drury-lane ! And bathes with tears the sod that wraps the Lord, sir!" said I, “ for gallery, boxes, pit, And bids the turf lie lightlyon his head. (dead, I'll back my Harlequin against your wit." Nor thus content, she opens death's cold Yet still the author, anxious for his play, womb,
Shook his wise head" What will the critics
Thus once-fam’d Essex at her voice appears,
Nordeem it much, that we retrace, to-night, means;
If there soft Pity pour her plenteous store,
in Him. Spoken ly Mr. King. GARRICK. Much more should you, from freedom's glorious And egad it will do for any other Play as well
BAYES. plan, Who still inherit all the rights of man;
An old trite proverb let me quote-
To suit our author, and his farce,
many. Should I have wit, the piece has none; A Aash in pan with empty, gun,
The piece is sure to be undone.
Written and spoken by Mr. GARRICK. Whose bush is better than the wine,
"Tis wroing to raise your expectations : But crowded here they change, and 'tis not odd, Poets, be dull in dedications!
For twigs, when bundled up, become a rod. Dulness in these to wit prefer
Critics to bards, like beauties to each other, But there indeed, you seldom err.
When tête-à-tête their enmity they smother : In prolognes, prefaces, be flat!
“ Kiss me, my dear--how do you!--charming A silver button spoils your hat.
creature! A threadbare coat might jokes escape, What shape! what bloom! what spirit in each Did not the blockheals lace the cape.
feature!” A case in point to this before
“ You Hatter ine."-" 'Pon honor, no."Allow me, pray, to tell a story:
“ You dom To turn the penny, once a wit
My friend-my dear-sincerely yours-adieu!" Upon a curious fancy hit,
But when at routs, the dear friends change their Hung out a board, on which he boasted,
tone : Dinner for three-pence, boil'd and roasted. I speak of foreign ladies, not our own. The hungry read, and in they trip,
Will you permit, good sirs, these gloomy folk With eager eye, and snacking lip. To give all tragedy without one joke? “Here, bring this boild and roasted, pray-" They gravely tell us, Tragedy's design d Enter potatoes, dress'd each way.
To purge the passions, purify the mind : All star'd and rose, the house forsook, Towhich I say, to strike those blockheads dumb, And damn'd the dinner-kick’d the cook. With physic always give a sugar-plum. My landlord found, poor Patrick Kelly ! I love these sugar-plums in prose or rhymes : There was no joking with the belly.
No one is merrier than myself sometimes ; These facts laid down, then thus I reason, Yet I, poor I, with tears and constant nioan, Wit in a prologue's out of season.
Am melted down almost to skin and bone : Yet still will you for jokes sit watching, This night, in sighs and sobs I drew my breath; Like Cock-lane folks for Fanny's scratching. Love, marriage, treason, prison, poison, death, And here my simile's so fit,
Were scarce sufficient to complete my fate ; For prologues are but ghosts of wit;
Two children were thrown in to make up Which inean to show their art and skill,
weight. And scratch you to their author's will. With all these suff'rings, is it not provoking, In short, for reasons great and small, To be denied at last a little joking ? (break 'em : 'Tis better to have none at all.
If they will make new laws, for mirth's sake Prologues and ghosts!—a paltry trade- Roar out for epilogues, and let me speak 'em. So let 'em both at once be laid! Say but the word-give your commands, We'll tie our prologue-monger's hands : Confine these culprits, bind 'em tight,
$ 64. Mr. Foote's Address to the Public, after [Holding up his hands. a Prosecution against him for a Libel. 1764.
Footi. Nor girl can scratch, nor fools can write.
Hush! let me search before I speak aloud
Is no informer skulking in the crowd, § 63. Epilogue to Elvira. 1963. GARRICK. With art laconic noting all that's said,
Malice at heart, indictments in bis head; Ladies and gentlemen—'tis so ill-bred Prepar’d to level all the legal war, We have no epilogue, because I'm dead; And rouse the clamorous legions of the bar? For he, our bard, with phrensy-rolling eye, Is there none such ?-Not one:- then, entre Swears you shan't laugh, when he has made nous, you cry:
I will a tale unfold, though strange, yet true; At which I gave his sleeve a gentle pull, The application must be made by you. Suppose they should not cry, and should be dull; At Athens once, fair queen of arms and arts, In such a case, 'twould surely do no harm; There dwelt a citizen of' moderate parts; A little lively vonsense taken warm,
Precise his manner, and demure his looks, On critic stomachs delicate and queasy, His mind unletter'd, though he dealt in books; 'Twill even make a heavy meal sit easy. Amorous, though old ; though dull, lov'd reThe town hates epilogues-It is not true,
partee ; I answer'd that for you—and you—and you— And penor'd a paragraph most daintily:
[To Pit, Bores, and First Gallery. He aim'd at purity in all he said, They call for epilogues and hornpipes too. And never once omitted eth or ed;
[To the upper Gallery. In hath, and doth, was rarely known to fail, Madam, the critics say- to you they're civil, Himself the hero of each little tale ; Here, if they have 'em not, they 'll play the With wits and lords this man was much de devil
lighted, Out of this house, sir : and to you alone, And once (it has been said) was near being They'll smile, cry Bravo! Charming !-Here One Aristophanes (a wicked wit, they groan;
Who never heeded grace in what he writ) A single critic will not frown, look big, Harmless and pliant as a single twig :
• George Faulkner, bookseller.
Had mark'd the manners of this Grecian sage, | But, crack! she went, before that I could ask it;
Then Peter-Petros was his classic name, With a sweet vale to feast the glutton eyem Fearing the loss of dignity and fame,
“I'll show you more,” she said,
“ to charm To a grave lawyer in a hurry flies,
and move us;"
[drove us : Opens his purse, and begs his best advice. And to the gardens, quick as thought, she The fee secur'd, the lawyer strokes his band, Then pointing to the shade" There, there “ The case you put I fully understand;
they are, The thing is plain from Cocos's reports, Of this most happy isle the happiest pair!" For rules of poetry a' n't rules of courts : 0, may those virtuous raptores never cease, A libel this-I 'll make the mummer know Nor public cares disturb their private peace; A Grecian constable took up the poet, [it."- She sighd-and like the lightnivg was she seen Restrain’d the sallies of his laughing muse,
To drive her chariot o'er this fav’rite green; Calld harmless humour scandalous abuse : Straight to this spot where she infus'd such The bard appeal'd from this severe decree,
things Th' inculgent public set the pris'ner free: Might turn the heads of twenty playhouse kings. Greece was to him what Dublin is to me. But fear dispersing all my golden dream,
And I just entering on this fairy-scheme;
With wild surprise, I cast ny eyes about, $ 65. Prologue spoken by Mr. Love on the Delusion ends—and now I wake to doubt: opening of the new Theatre on Richmond , may the dream be realis'd by you!
Your smiles or frowns can make this false or Green, 1765.
GARRICK. The ship now launch'd with necessaries stor de
(on board, Rigg’d, mann'd, well-built, and a rich freight
$ 66. Prologue to Much ado about Nothing, All ready, tight and trim, from head to poop,
acted by Command of their Majesties, 1765. And, by commission, made a royal sloop;
Written and spoken by Mr.GARRICK, being May Heaven from tempests, rocks and priva
his first Appearance after his Return from teers, Preserve the Richmond !- Give her, boys,
Italy. three cheers! [Three huzzas behind. With doubt, joy, apprehension, almost Queen Mab, our Shakspeare says, and I believe dumb, him,
[him: To face this awful court, once more I come : In sleep haunts each vain mortal, to deceive Lest Benedick should suffer by my fear, As in her hazel-nut she lightly trips,
Before he enters, I myself am here. By turns, o'er eyes, ears, fingers, nose, and lips, I'm told (what flattery to my heart !) that you Each quicken'd sense such sweet enchantment Havé wish'd to see me; nay, have press'd it seizes,
Alas! 'twill prove another Much ado. [too : We hear, see, smell, taste, touch-whate'er I, like a boy who long has truant play'd, she pleases.
[see, No lessons got, no exercises made, Look round this house, and various proofs you'll | On bloody Monday takes his fearful stand, Strong glaring proofs, that Mab has been with And often eyes the birchen-sceptr'd hand.
'Tis twice twelve years since first the stage I She caught me napping, knew where I was trod, And tickled ev'ry fibre of my brain : (vain, Enjoy’d your smiles, and felt the critic's rod : Deep in my musing (deep as I was able) A very nine-pin I, my stage life through ; Methought I saw her driving tow'rds my table; Knock'd down by wits, set up again by you. She whisk'd her chariot n'er my books and in four-and-twenty years the spirits cool; shelves,
Is it not long enough to play the fool ? And at my standish stopp'd her tiny elves. To prove it is, permit me to repeat “ What are you scribbling there?-Quick, let What late I heard in passing thro' the street :
A youth of parts, with ladies by his side, Poh! leave this nonsense, and along with me!"| Thus cock'd his glass, and through it shot my I, grinning, bow'd—"Bright star of Lilliput! pride : Shall I not crowd
hazel-nut?' «« 'Tis 'he, by Jove! grown quite a clumsy She smild; and showing me a large-siz’d ham
[scamper." He's fit for nothing--but a Punchinello!" “ Get into this, my friend, and then we'll | O yes, for comic scenes, Sir John-no further : I for this frolic wanting quick digestion, He's much too fat-for battles, rapes, and Sent to my tongue, post-haste, another question. murther!"
Worn in the service, you my faults will spare, | With parchment gorgets and in buckram arm'd, And make allowance for the wear and tear. Cold-blooded tailors are to heroes warmd,
The Chelsea pensioner, who, rich in scars, And slip-shod slide to war-No lions' glare, Fights o'er, in prattle, all his former wars; No cye-balls flashing fire shall make you stare; Tho' past the service, may the young ones teach Each outside shall belie the stuff within: To march-present—to fire-and inount the A Roman spirit in each tailor's skinbreach.
[grieve A tailor-legg'd Pompey, Cassius, shall you see, Should the drum beat to arms, at first he'll And the ninth part of Brutus strut in me; For wooden leg, lost eye, and armless sleeve; What though no swords we draw, no daggers Then cocks his hat, looks fierce, and swells his Yet can our warriors a quietus make (shake? chest :
(best." With a bare bodkin.-Now be dumb, ye railers, “ 'Tis for my king; and, zounds! I'll do my And never, but in honour, call out tailors!
But these are heroes tragic, you will cry ;
(), very tragic! and I 'll tell you why$ 67. Prologue to the Clandestine Marriage. Should female artists with the male combine, 1766. GARRICK.
And mantua-makers with the tailors join; Posts and Painters, who from nature draw Should all, too proud to work, their trades give Their best and richest stores, have made this
Not to be sooth'd again by six-pence more ; That each should neighbourly assist his brother, What horrors would ensue ! --First you, ye And steal with decency from one another.
beaux, To-night, your matchless Hogarth gives the At once lose all existence with your clothes! thought,
And you, ye fair, where would be your defence? Which froin the canvas to the stage is brought; This is no golden age of innocence ! And who so fit to warm the poet's mind,
Such drunken Bacchanals the Graces meet, As he who pictur’d morals and mankind ? And no police to guard the naked street: But not the same their characters and scenes ; Beauty is weak, and passion bold and strongBoth labour for one end by diff'rent meaus;
O then-but modesty restrains my congue. Each, as it suits him, takes a sep’rate road, May this night's bard a skilful tailor be, Their one great object, marriage à-la-mode;
And like a well-made coat his tragedy: Where titles deign with cits 10 have and hold, Though close, yet easy; decent, but not dull: And change rich blood for more substantial Short, but not scanty; withoui bucksam, fall.
$ 69. Epilogue to the English Merchant. But he who struts his hour upon the stage,
1767. GARKICK. Can scarce extend his fame for half an age;
Enter Lady Aiton [Mrs. Alington) in a pasNor pen nor pencil can the actor save The art and artist share one common grave.
sion; Spatler (Mr. King) foliuwing. O let ine drop one tributary tear, (bier! L. Allon. I'll hear no more, thou wretch! On poor Jack Falstaff's grave and Juliet's Spatter. Attend to reason ! You to their worth must testimony give ;
L. Alton. A woman of my rank, 'tis petty 'Tis in your hearts alone their fame can live ;
treason ! Still as the scenes of life will shift away, Hear reason, blockhead! Reason! what is that? The strong impressions of their art decay. Bid me wear pattens and a high-crown'd hat! Your children cannot feel what you have known; Won't you begone? What, won't you? What's They'll boast of Quins and Cibbers of their own.
[you.The greatest glory of our happy few,
Spatter. Humbly to serve the luneful wine in Is to be felt, and be approv'd by you.
L. Alton. I renounce such things ; (strings: Not Phæbus now, but vengeance, sweeps the
My mind is discord all! I scorn, detest $ 68. Prologue to the Tailors. 1767. All human kind—you more than all the rest.
GARRICK Spatter. I humbly thank This night we add some heroes to our store, weigh the matter. Who never were as heroes seen before;
L. Alton. I won't hear reason! and I hate No blust'ring Romans, Trojans, Greeks, shall Myself, and ev'ry thing. rage;
(stage, Spatler. That I deny ;
you stab Falbridge ? Needles to thimbles shall, and shears to shears; Spatter. Yes, Ma'amn—with my pen.
L. Alton. Let loose, my Spatter, will to death Mr. Quin and Mrs. Cibber both died a you 've stung 'em, little before.
That green-eyed monster, jealousy, among 'em.
Spatter. To dash at all, the spirit of my trade | She sips and smirks" Next week's our wedis,
(ladies. ding-day, Men, women, children, parsons, lords, and Married seven years!—and every hour more There will be danger.
[Ynwons. L. Alton. And ihere shall be pay~ " True, Emmy,” cries my lord, “ the blessing Take my purse, Spatter! [ Gives it him.
lies, Spaller. In an honest way.
“Our hearts in ev'ry thing so sympathise !" [Smiles and takes it.
[Yawns. L. Alton. Should my lord beat you
The day thus spent, my lord for music calls; Spatter. Let them laugh that win. He thrums the base, to which my lady squalls; For all my bruises here's gold beater's skin; The children join, which so delight these nin[Chinking the purse.
nies, L. Alton. Nay, should he kill you !
The brats seem all Guaduccies, Lovatinis. Spalter. Ma'am ?
-What means this qualm?—Why, sure, while L. Allon. My kindness meant
I'm despising, To pay your merit with a monument! That vulgar passion, Envy, is not rising! Spatter. Your kindness, lady, takes away O no!-Contempt is struggling to burst outmy breath :
[death. I'll give it vent at Lady Scalp'em's rout. We'll stop, with your good leave, on this side
[Exit hastily. L. Alton. Attack Amelia, both in verse and Your wit can make a nettle of a rose. [prese, Spalter. A stinging-nettle for his lordship's breast :
$ 70. Epilogue to Zenobia. 1768. Spoken by And to my stars and dashes leave the rest.
Mrs. Abington. GARRICK. I'll make them miserable, never fear;
[She peeps through the curtain. Pout in a month, and part in half a year. How do you all, good folks :-In tears, for I know my genius, and can trust my plan;
certain ; I'll break a woman's heart with any man. I'll only take a peep behind the curtain : L. Alton. Thanks, thanks, dear Spatter! be You're all so full of tragedy and sadness, severe and bold !
For me to come among you would be madness! Spatler. No qualms of conscience with a This is no time for giggling-when you've purse of gold.
leisure, Tho' pill’ries threaten, and tho'crab-sticks fall, Call out for me, and I'll attend your pleasure ; Yours are my heart, soul, pen, ears, bones, and As soldiers hurry at the beat of drum, all." [Exit Spatter. Beat but your hands, that instant I will come.
[She enters upon their clapping. Lady Alton alone.
This is so good! to call me out so soonThus to the winds at once my cares I scatter, The Comic Muse by we entreats a boon; O, 'tis a charming rascal, this same Spatter! She callid for Pritchard, her first maid of His precious mischief makes the storm subside! honor, Myanger, thank my stars! all rose from pride; And begg’d of her to take the task upon her; Pride should belong to us alone of fashion; But she, I am sure you'll all be sorry
for't, And let the mob take love, that vulgar passion. Resigns her place, and soon retires from court: Love, pity, tenderness, are only made To bear this loss we courtiers make a shift, For Poets, Abigails, and folks in trade. When good folks leave us, worse may have a Some cits about thcir feelings make a fuss,
lift. And some are better bred—who live with us. The Comic Muse, whose ev'ry smile is grace, How low lord Falbridge is !-He takes a wife, And her stage sister, with her tragic face, To love, and cherish, and be fix'd for life! Have had a quarrel.--each has writ a case ; Thinks marriage is a comfortable state, And on their friends assembled now I wait, No pleasure like a vartuous tête-à-tête ! To give you of their diff'rence a true state. Doour lords justice, for I would not wrong 'em, Melpomene complains, when she appears, There are not many such poor souls among 'em. For five good acts, in all her pomp of tears, Our turtles from the town will Ay with speed, To raise your souls, and with your raptures And I'll foretell the vulgar life they'll lead.
[wring 'em With love and ease grown fat, they face all Nay, met your handkerchiefs, that you may weather,
[ther: Some flippant hussey, like myself, comes in; And, farmers both, trudge arm in arm toge- Crack goes her fan, and with a giggling grin, Now view their stock, now in their nursery “Hey! Presto! pass!"-all topsy-turvy see, prattle,
For“ ho, ho, ho!" is chang'd to “ he, he, he!" For ever with their children or their cattle. We own'd the fault, but 'tis a fault in vogue; Like thedull mill-horse in one round they keep; 'Tis theirs who call and bawl for-Epilogue; They walk, talk, fondle, dine, and fall asleep; O, shame upon you!—for the time to come, “ Their custom always in the afternoon- Know better, and go miserable home. He bright as Sol, and she the chaste full moon! What says our comic goddess ?---With 'reWak'd with her coffee, Madam first begins,
proaches, She rubs her eyes, his lordship rubs his shins; ! She vows her sister tragedy encroaches !