PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE:

A TRAGEDY.

WRITTEN BY JOSEPH CRADDOCK, Esq.

First acted at the Theatre Royal, Covent-Garden, 1772.

SPOKEN BY MR. QUICK.

In these bold times when learning's sons explore
The distant climates, and the savage shore;
When wise astronomers to India steer;

And quit for Venus many a brighter here;
While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently-go simpling,
Our bard, into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.

With Cythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden,
He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading-
Yet ere he lands he's ordered me before,

To make an observation on the shore.

Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost!
This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast.
Lord, what a sultry climate am I under!
Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder.

[Upper Gallery,

There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen

'em

[Pit.

Here trees of stately size-and billing turtles in

'em

[Balconies. Here ill-conditioned oranges abound- [Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground:

[Tasting them.

The inhabitants are cannibals I fear:

I hear a hissing-there are serpents here!

O, there the people are-best keep my distance; Our captain (gentle natives) craves assistance; [her, Our ship's well stored-in yonder creek we've laid His honour is no mercenary trader.

This is his first adventure, lend him aid,

And we may chance to drive a thriving trade. [far,
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from
Equally fit for gallantry and war.

What, no reply to promises so ample?
-I'd best step back, and order up a sample.

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWES,

In the Character of Harlequin, at his benefit.

HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your non

sense;

I'd speak a word or two to ease my conscience.

My pride forbids it ever should be said,

My heels eclipsed the honours of my head;
That I found humour in a pyeball vest,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest.

[Takes off his mask.
Whence and what art thou, visionary birth?
Nature disowns, and reason scorns thy mirth,
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps,
The joy that dimples and the wo that weeps.

How hast thou filled the scene with all thy brood,
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursued!
Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses,
Whose only plot it is to break our noses;
Whilst from below the trap-door Dæmons rise,
And from above the dangling deities;
And shall I mix in this unhallowed crew?
May rosined lightning blast me if I do!
No-I will act, I'll vindicate the stage:
Shakspeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.
Off! off! vile trappings! a new passion reigns!
The maddening monarch revels in my veins.
Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme:
Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!-soft
-'twas but a dream.
[ing,

Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreat-
If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.
'Twas thus that Æsop's stag, a creature blameless,
Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless,
Once on the margin of a fountain stood,

And cavilled at his image in the flood.

[shanks,

"The deuce confound," he cries, "these drumstick

They never have my gratitude nor thanks;
They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead!

But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head.

How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow!
My horns! I'm told horns are the fashion now."
Whilst thus he spoke, astonished! to his view,
Near and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew,
Hoicks, hark forward! came thundering from be-
hind,

He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind:

He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways;
He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.
At length his silly head, so prized before,
Is taught his former folly to deplore;
Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free,
And at one bourd, he saves himself, like me.
[Taking a jump through the stage door.

STANZAS

ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.

AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys,

Which triumph forces from the patriot heart; Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasure start.

O Wolfe, to thee a streaming flood of wo,
Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear;
Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow,
Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear.

Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled,

And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead! Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise.

ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH,

Struck Blind by Lightning.

SURE 'twas by Providence designed
Rather in pity than in hate,
That he should be, like Cupid, blind,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.

A SONNET.

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight;
Myra, too sincere for feigning,

Fears th' approaching bridal night.

Yet why impair thy bright perfection? Or dim thy beauty with a tear?

Had Myra followed my direction,

She long had wanted cause of fear.

SONG I.

From the Oratorio of the Captivity.

THE wretch condemned with life to part, Still, still on hope relies;

And every pang that rends the heart,

Bids expectation rise.