PROLOGUE

TO SMITH'S PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLITUS.

L

SPOKEN BY Mr. WILKS.

ONG has a race of heroes fill'd the stage,

That rant by note, and through the gamut rage; In fongs and airs exprefs their martial fire,

Combat in trills, and in a fuge expire :

While, lull'd by sound, and undisturb'd by wit,
Calm and ferene you indolently fit,

And, from the dull fatigue of thinking free,
Hear the facetious fiddles repartee:

Our home-spun authors must forfake the field,
And Shakespeare to the soft Scarletti yield.
Το your new tafte the poet of this day
Was by a friend advis'd to form his play;
Had Valentini, mufically coy,

Shunn'd Phædra's arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd joy :

It had not mov'd your wonder to have seen

An eunuch fly from an enamour'd queen :

How would it please, should she in English speak,
And could Hippolitus reply in Greek!

But he, a ftranger to your modish way,

By your old rules muft stand or fall to-day,
And hopes you will your foreign taste command,
To bear, for once, with what you understand.

PROLOGUE

TO STEELE'S TENDER HUSBAND.

IN the firft rife and infancy of farce,

When fools were many, and when plays were fcarcesce The raw unpractis'd authors could, with eafe, A young and unexperienc'd audience please: No fingle character had e'er been shown, But the whole herd of fops was all their own; Rich in originals, they fet to view, In every piece, a coxcomb that was new.

But now our British theatre can boast Drolls of all kinds, a vast unthinking hoft!

Fruitful of folly and of vice, it shows

Cuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and beaux Rough country knights are found of every fhire; every fashion gentle fops appear;

of

And punks of different characters we meet,
As frequent on the ftage as in the pit.

Our modern wits are forc'd to pick and cull,
And here and there by chance glean up a fool :
Long ere they find the neceffary fpark,
They fearch the town, and beat about the Park,
To all his most frequented haunts refort,
Oft dog him to the ring, and oft to court;
As love of pleasure or of place invites ;

And fometimes catch him taking snuff at White's.

Howe'er,

Howe'er, to do you right, the present age
Breeds very hopeful monsters for the stage;
That fcorn the paths their dull forefathers trod,
And won't be blockheads in the common road.
Do but furvey this crouded houfe to-night:

-Here 's ftill encouragement for thofe that write..
Our author, to divert his friends to-day,
Stocks with variety of fools his play;

And that there may be fomething gay and new,
Two ladies-errant has expos'd to view;

The firft a damfel, travel'd in romance;

The t'other more refin'd, fhe comes from France: Refcue, like courteous knights, the nymph from danger,And kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger,

ΕΡΙ

EPILOGUE

TO LANSDOWNE'S BRITISH ENCHANTERS.

HEN Orpheus tun'd his lyre with pleasing woe,

WHE

Rivers forgot to run, and winds to blow,

While listening foreits cover'd, as he play'd,
The foft musician in a moving fhade.

That this night's ftrains the fame fuccefs may find,
The force of mufic is to mufic join'd:

Where founding strings and artful voices fail,
The charming rod and mutter'd spells prevail.
Let fage Urganda wave the circling wand
On barren mountains, or a waste of fand;
The defert fmiles; the woods begin to grow,
The birds to warble, and the fprings to flow.

The fame dull fights in the fame landskip mixt,
Scenes of ftill life, and points for ever fix'd,
A tedious pleasure on the mind bestow,
And pall the fenfe with one continued show :
But, as our two magicians try their skill,
The vifion varies, though the place ftands ftill;
While the fame spot its gaudy form renews,
Shifting the prospect to a thousand views.
Thus (without unity of place tranfgreft)
Th' enchanter turns the critic to a jest.

But howfoe'er, to please your wandering eyes,
Bright objects disappear and brighter rife:
There's none can make amends for loft delight,
While from that circle we divert your fight.

ΑΝ

AN ODE FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

SET TO MUSICK BY MR. DANIEL PURCELL.

PERFORMED AT OXFORD 1699.

I.

REPARE the hallow'd ftrain, my Mufe,

PREPA

Thy fofteft founds and sweetest numbers chuse;

The bright Cecilia's praife rehearse,

In warbling words, and gliding verfe,

That fmoothly run into a fong,

And gently die away, and melt upon the tongue.

II.

First let the fprightly violin

The joyful melody begin,

And none of all her ftrings be mute, While the fharp found and fhriller lay In fweet harmonious notes decay, Soften and mellow'd by the flute. * The flute that sweetly can complain, "Diffolve the frozen nymph's difdain; Panting fympathy impart,

"Till the partake her lover's fmart."

CHORUS.

III.

Next, let the folemn organ join
Religious airs, and strains divine,

Such as may lift us to the skies,

And fet all heaven before our eyes:

"Such

The four laft lines of the second and third ftanza's

were added by Mr. Tate.