PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY LORD BUCKHURST,

In Weftminfter School, at Chrifimas 1695, in the Cha racter of Cleonidas, in Mr. Dryden's Cleomenes.

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PISH; Lord, I wish this prologue was but Greek,
Then young Cleonidas would boldly fpeak:
But can Lord Buckhurft in poor English fay,
"Gentle fpectators, pray excufe the play "
No, witnefs all ye Gods of ancient Greece,
Rather than condefcend to terms like thefe,
I'd go to school fix hours on Christmas-day,
Or conftrue Perfius while my comrades play.
Such work by hireling actors fhould be done
Who tremble when they fee a critic frown:
Poor rogues, that fmart like fencers for their bread,
And if they are not wounded are not fed.
But, Sirs, our labour has more noble ends,
We act our tragedy to fee our friends:
Our gen'rous fcenes are for pure love repeated,
And if you are not pleas'd at least you're treated.
The candles and the clothes ourselves we bought,
Our tops neglected, and our balls forgot.
To learn our parts we left our midnight bed;
Moft of you fnor'd whilft Cleomenes read:
Not that from this confeffion we would fue
Praise undeferv'd; we know ourselves and you:
Refolv'd to ftand or perifh by our cause,
We neither cenfure fear, nor beg applaufe,
For thefe are Weltminster and Sparta's laws.
Yet if we fee fome judgment well inclin'd,
To young defert and growing virtue kind,
That critic by ten thousand marks fhould know
The greatest fouls to goodnefs only bow;

'ફ્

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And that your little hero does inherit

Not Cleomenes' more than Dorfet's spirit.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN AT COURT BEFORE THE QUEEN,

SHINE

On her Majefly's Birth-day, 1704.

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HINE forth, ye Planets, with diftinguish'd light As when ye hallow'd firft this happy night; Again tranfmit your friendly beams to earth As when Britannia joy'd for Anna's birth: And thou, propitious Star, whofe facred pow'r Prefided o'er the monarch's natal hour, Thy radiant voyages for ever run, Yielding to none but Cynthia and the fun, With thy fair afpect ftill illuftrate heav'n; Kindly preferve what thou haft greatly giv'n; Thy influence for thy Anna we implore; Prolong one life, and Britain asks no more; For Virtue can no ampler power exprefs Than to be great in war and good in peace: For thought no higher with of blifs can frame Than to enjoy that virtue ftill the fame. Entire and fure the monarch's rule muft prove Who founds her greatnefs on her subjects love; Who does our homage for our good require, And orders that which we fhould firft defire; Our vanquifh'd wills that pleafing force obey, Her goodness takes our liberty away, And haughty Britain yields to arbitrary sway.

Let the young Auftrian then her terrors bear,
Great as he is her delegate in war;

Let him in thunder speak to both his Spains
That in thefe dreadful ifles a woman reigns;
While the bright queen dues on her fubjects fhow'r
The gentle bleffings of her fofter pow'r ;
Gives facred morals to a vicious age,
To temples zeal, and manners to the ftage;

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Bids the chafte mufe without a blush appear,
And wit be that which heav'n and the

may

hear.

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Minerva thus to Perfeus lent her fhield, Secure of conquest sent him to the field; The hero acted what the queen ordain'd, So was his fame complete, and Andromede unchain'd. Mean time amidst her native temples fat The goddefs, ftudious of her Grecians' fate, Taught 'em in laws and letters to excel, In acting justly, and in writing well.

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Thus, whilft fhe did her various pow'r difpofe,
The world was freed from tyrants, wars, and woes:
Virtue was taught in verse, and Athens' glory rose. 44

PROLOGUE TO THE ORPHAN.

Reprefented by fome of the Westminster Scholars at Hickford's Dancing Room in Panton Street, near Leicester Fields, the 2d of February, 1720.

SPOKEN BY LORD DUPLIN, WHO ACTED COR

DELIO.

WHAT! would my humble comrades have me

fay,

Gentle fpectators, pray excufe the play?
Such work by hireling actors fhould be done,
Whom you may clap or hifs for half a crown :
Our gen'rous fcenes for friendship we repeat,
And if we don't delight, at least we treat.
Our's is the damage? if we chance to blunder,
We may be afk'd whofe patent we act under?
How fhall we gain you, Alamode de France ?
We hir'd this room, but none of us can dance;
In cutting capers we shall never please;
Our learning does not lie below our knees.

Shall we procure you fymphony and found?
Then you must each fubfcribe two hundred pound:
There we fhould fail too as to point of voice;
Miftake us not; we're no Italian boys ;

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True Britons born, from Weftminfter we come,
And only speak the style of ancient Rome.
We would deferve, not poorly beg, applause,
And stand or fall by Friend's and Busby's laws.
For the diftrefs'd your pity we implore;
If once refus'd we'll trouble you no more,
But leave our Orphan fqualling at your door.

EPILOGUE TO PHÆDRA*.

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SPOKEN BY MRS. OLDFIELD, WHO ACTED ISMENA

LADIES, to night your pity I implore

never

you before;

An Oxford man extremely read in Greek,
Who from Euripides makes Phædra speak,
And comes to town to let us moderns know
How women lov'd two thoufand years ago.

If that be all, faid I, e'en burn your play;
I'gad! we know all that as well as they :
Show us the youthful, handsome charioteer,
Firm in his feat, and running his career;
Our fouls would kindle with as gen'rous flames
As e'er infpir'd the ancient Grecian dames;
Ev'ry Imena would refign her breast,
And ev'ry dear Hippolytus be bleft.

But as it is, fix flouncing Flanders mares
Are e'en as good as any two of their's;
And if Hippolytus can but contrive
To buy the gilded chariot John can drive.

Now of the buftle you have feen to-day,
And Phædra's morals in this fcholar's play,
Something at least in juftice fhould be faid;
But this Hippolytus fo fills one's head-
Well! Phædra liv'd as chaitly as the could,
For fhe was Father Jove's own flesh and blood,
Her awkward love, indeed, was oddly fated;
She and her Poly were too near related;
And yet that fcruple had been laid aside

If honeft Thefeus had but fairly dyld:

Phædra and Hippolytus, a tragedy, written by Mr. Edmund Smith.

But when he came, what needed he to know
But that all matters stood in ftatu quo?

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There was no harm, you fee; or grant there were,
She might want conduct, but he wanted care,
Twas in a bufband little lefs than rude

Upon his wife's retirement to intrude→→→→

He fhould have fent a night or two before
That he would come exact at fuch an hour;
Then he had turn'd all tragedy to jest,
Found ev'ry thing contribute to his reft,
The piquet friend difmifs'd, the coaft all clear,
And spouse alone, impatient for her dear.
But if thefe gay reflections come too late
To keep the guilty Phædra from her fate,
if your more ferious judgment must condemn
The dire effects of her unhappy flame,
Yet, ye chafte matrons and ye tender fair,
Let love and innocence engage your care,
My fpotlefs flames to your protection take,
And spare poor Phædra for Ifmena's fake.

EPILOGUE TO LUCIUS*.

SPOKEN BY MRS. HORTON.

HE female author who recites to-day

Like father Bays fecurely the fits down:
Pit, box, and gallery, Gad! all's our own.
In ancient Greece, fhe fays, when Sappho writ,
By their applaufe the critics fhow'd their wit,
They tun'd their voices to her lyric string,
Tho' they could all do fomething more than fing.
But one exception to this fact we find,
That booby Phaon only was unkind,

An ill bred boatman, rough as waves and wind,
From Sappho, down thro' all fucceeding ages,
And now on French or on Italian ftages,
Rough fatires, fly remarks, ill-natur'd fpeeches,
Are always aim'd at poets that wear breeches.

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cins, the frût chrifias king of Britain, a tragedy, written by Mrs Merity.