Therefore thin nourishment of farce ye choose, To hollow caves the shivering natives go
Decoctions of a barley-water muse :
A meal of tragedy would make ye sick,
Unless it were a very tender chick. [time;
Some scenes in sippets would be worth our
Those would go down; some love that's poach'd
If these should fail..
[in rhyme;

We must lie down, and, after all our cost,
Keep holiday, like watermen in frost; [stage,
While you turn players on the world's great
And act yourselves the farce of your own age.

PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY
OF OXFORD, 1681.

THE fam'd Italian muse, whose rhymes ad-
lando and the Paladins of France, [vance
Records that, when our wit and sense is flown,
"T is lodg'd within the circle of the moon,
In earthen jars, which one, who thither soar'd,
Set to his nose, snuff'd up, and was restor❜d.
Whate'er the story be, the moral's true;
The wit we lost in town we find in you.
Our poets their fled parts may draw from hence,
And fill their windy heads with sober sense.
When London votes with Southwark's disagree,
Here may they find their long-lost loyalty.
Here busy senates, to the old cause inclin'd,
May snuff the votes their fellows left behind:
Your country neighbours, when their grain
grows dear,

May come, and find their last provision here:
Whereas we cannot much lament our loss,
Who neither carried back nor brought one cross.
We look'd what representatives would bring;
But they help'd us, just as they did the king.
Yet we despair not; for we now lay forth[worth;
The Sibyl's books to those who know their
And though the first was sacrific'd before,
These volumes doubly will the price restore.
Our poet bade us hope this grace to find,
To whom by long prescription you are kind.
He, whose undaunted Muse, with loyal rage,
Has never spar'd the vices of the age,

Bears range abroad, and hunt in tracks of snow
But when the tedious twilight wears away,
And stars grow paler at the approach of day,
The longing crowds to frozen mountains run,
Happy who first can see the glimmering sun.
The surly savage offspring disappear,
And curse the bright successor of the year.
Yet, though rough bears in covert seek defence,
White foxes stay, with seeming innocence:
That crafty kind with daylight can dispense.
Still we are throng'd so full with Reynard's race,
That loyal subjects scarce can find a place:
Thus modest truth is cast behind the crowd:
Truth speaks too low; Hypocrisy too loud.
Let them be first to flatter in success;
Duty can stay, but guilt has need to press.
Once, when true zeal the sons of God did call,
To make their solemn show at heaven's White
hall,

The fawning devil appear'd among the rest,
And made as good a courtier as the best.
The friends of Job, who rail'd at him before,
Came cap in hand when he had three times

more.

Yet late repentance may, perhaps, be true
Kings can forgive, if rebels can but sue.
A tyrant's power in rigour is express'd;
The father yearns in the true prince's breast.
We grant, an o'ergrown Whig no grace can
mend;

But most are babes, that know not they offend.
The crowd to restless motion still inclin'd,
Are clouds, that tack according to the wind.
Driven by their chiefs they storms of hailstones
pour;

Then mourn, and soften to a silent shower.
O welcome to this much-offending land,
The prince that brings forgiveness in his hand!
Thus angels on glad messages appear:
Their first salute commands us not to fear:
Thus Heaven, that could constrain us to obey,
(With reverence if we might presume to say)
Seems to relax the rights of sovereign sway:
Permits to man the choice of good and ill,

Here finding nothing that his spleen can raise, And makes us happy by our own free-will.

Is forced to turn his satire into praise.

PROLOGUE TO HIS ROYAL HIGH-
NESS,

UPON HIS FIRST APPEARANCE at the duke'S
THEATRE, AFTER HIS RETURN FROM SCOT-
LAND, 1682.

In those cold regions which no summers cheer,
Where brooding darkness covers half the year,
VOL. 1.-11

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF
ESSEX.

BY MR. J. BANKS, 1682.
SPOKEN TO THE KING AND THE QUEEN at
THEIR COMING TO THE HOUSE.
WHEN first the ark was landed on the shore,
And Heaven had vow'd to curse the ground
K

no more;

When tops of hills the longing patriarch saw,
And the new scene of earth began to draw;
The dove was sent to view the waves decrease,
And first brought back to man the pledge of
peace.

"T is needless to apply, when those appear,
Who bring the olive, and who plant it here.
We have before our eyes the royal dove,
Still innocent, as harbinger of love:
The ark is open'd to dismiss the train,
And people with a better race the plain.
Tell me, ye powers,why should vain man pursue,
With endless toil, each object that is new,
And for the seeming substance leave the true?
Why should he quit for hopes his certain good,
And loathe the manna of his daily food?
Must England still the scene of changes be,
Tost and tempestuous, like our ambient sea?
Must still our weather and our wills agree?
Without our blood our liberties we have:
Who that is free would fight to be a slave?
Or, what can wars to aftertimes assure,
Of which our present age is not secure?
All that our monarch would for us ordain,
Is but to enjoy the blessings of his reign.
Our land's an Eden, and the main's our fence,
While we preserve our state of innocence:
That lost, then beasts their brutal force employ,
And first their lord, and then themselves des-
troy.

What civil broils have cost we know too well;
Oh! let it be enough that once we fell!
And every heart conspire, and every tongue,
Still to have such a king, and this king long.

AN EPILOGUE FOR THE KING'S
HOUSE.

We act by fits and starts, like drowning men,
But just peep up, and then pop down again.
Let those who call us wicked change their

sense;

For never men liv'd more on Providence.
Not lottery cavaliers are half so poor,
Nor broken cits, nor a vacation whore.
Not courts, nor courtiers living on the rents
Of the three last ungiving parliaments:
So wretched, that, if Pharaoh could divine,
He might have spar'd his dream of seven lean
kine,

And chang'd his vision for the Muses nine.
The comet, that, they say, portends a dearth,
Was but a vapour drawn from playhouse earth:
Pent there since our last fire, and, Lilly says,
Foreshows our change of state, and thin third-
days.

"T is not our want of wit that keeps us poor,
For then the printer's press would suffer more.
Their pamphleteers each day their venom spit;
They thrive by treason, and we starve by wit.
Confess the truth, which of you has not laid
Four farthings out to buy the Hatfield maid?
Or, which is duller yet, and more would spite us,
Democritus his wars with Heraclitus?
Such are the authors who have run us down,
And exercis'd you critics of the town.
Yet these are pearls to your lampooning rhymes,
Y' abuse yourselves more dully than the

times.

Scandal, the glory of the English nation,
Is worn to rags, and scribbled out of fashion.
Such harmless thrusts, as if, like fencers wise,
They had agreed their play before their prize.
Faith, they may hang their harps upon the wil
lows;

"T is just like children when they box with pil-
lows.

Then put an end to civil wars for shame ;
Let each knight-errant, who has wrong'd a
dame,

Throw down his pen, and give her, as he can,
The satisfaction of a gentleman.

POETS, like lawful monarchs, rul'd the stage,
Till critics, like damn'd Whigs, debauch'd our

age,

Mark how they jump: critics would regulate
Our theatres, and Whigs reform our state:
Both pretend love, and both (plague rot them!)
The critic humbly seems advice to bring; [hate.
The fawning Whig petitions to the king:
But one's advice into a satire slides;
T'other's petition a remonstrance hides.
These will no taxes give, and those no pence;
Critics would starve the poet, Whigs the prince.
The critic all our troops of friends discards ;
Just so the Whig would fain pull down the
guards.

Guards are illegal, that drive foes away, [prey.
As watchful shepherds, that fright beasts of

• The Loyal Brother or the Persian Prince, Mr. Southerne's first play, was acted at Drury Lane in 1682; a time in which the Tory interest, after long struggles, carried, all before it. The character of the Loyal Brother was a compliment intended for the Duke of York. This prologue is a continued invec tive against the Whigs. D.

Kings, who disband such needless aids as these,
Are safe as long as e'er their subjects please:
And that would be till next Queen Boss's
night :*

Which thus grave penny chroniclers indite.
Sir Edmondbury first, in woful wise, [oyos.
Leads up the show, and milks their maudlin
There's not a butcher's wife but dribs her part,
And pities the poor pageant from her heart;
Who, to provoke revenge, rides round the fire,
And, with a civil congé, does retire:

But guiltless blood to ground must never fall;
There's Antichrist behind, to pay for all.
The punk of Babylon in pomp appears,

So God begins, but still the devil ends. [call,
What if some one, inspired with zeal, should
Come, let's go cry, God save him, at Whitehall?
His best friends would not like this over-care,
Or think him e'er the safer for this prayer.
Five praying saints are by an act allow'd;
But not the whole church-militant in crowd.
Yet, should Heaven all the true petitions drain,
Of Presbyterians, who would kings maintain,
Or forty thousand, five would scarce remain.

A lewd old gentleman of seventy years:

Whose age in vain our mercy would implore;

PROLOGUE TO THE KING AND
QUEEN,

For few take pity on an old cast whore. [part; vION THE UNION OF THE TWO COMPANIES

The devil, who brought him to the shame, takes
Sits cheek by jowl, in black, to cheer his heart;
Like thief and parson in a Tyburn cart.
The word is given, and with a loud huzza
The mitred puppet from his chair they draw:
On the slain corpse contending nations fall:
Alas! what's one poor pope among them all!
He burns; now all true hearts your triumphs
ring:

And next, for fashion, cry, God save the king.
A needful cry in midst of such alarms,
When forty thousand men are up in arms.
But after he's once saved, to make amends,
In each succeeding health they damn his
friends :

• Queen Bess's night] At the King's Head Tavern,
the corner of Chancery Lane, and opposite the Inner
Templegate, the principal opponents to the court-
measures and the chiefs of the Whig party as-
sembled, under the name of the King's Head Club,
and afterwards the Green Ribbon Club, from rib-
bons of that colour which they wore in their hats.
Here they subscribed a guinea apiece for a bonfire,
in which the effigies of the pope was to be burnt on
the 17th of November, being the anniversary of
Queen Elizabeth's birth, with more than ordinary
pomp; for it was heretofore an annual ceremony,
usually made without any remarkable parade. The
procession now consisted of one representing the
dead body of Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, carried on
a horse, with a person preceding it ringing a bell,
to remind people of his murder: then followed a
mob of fellows, dressed like carmelites, jesuits,
bishops, cardinals, &c. and several boys with in-
cense puts surrounding an image of the pope with
that of the devil just behind him,

'Like thief and parson in a Tyburn cart.' In this manner they marched from Bishopsgate to the corner of Chancery Lane, where they com. mitted the inoffensive effigies to the flames; while the balconies and windows of the King's Head were filled with people of consequence, who countenanced the tunult; which, the Hon Roger North says, struck a terror upon people's spirits. The year of acting the play, to which we have here a prologue, great additions, alterations and expensive in.provements were intended to be made in this procession, which was prevented entirely by the loyal. ty and vigilance of the sheriffs of the city, Sir Dudley North and Sir Peter Rich, who paraded the streets all day and the best part of the night. D

IN 1682.

SINCE faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of

fashion,
[nation,
Their penny scribes take care to inform the
How well men thrive in this or that plantation:

How Pennsylvania's air agrees with Quakers,
And Carolina's with Associators:
Both e'en too good for madmen and for traitors.
Truth is, our land with saints is so run o'er,
And every age produces such a store, [more.
That now there's need of two New Englands
What's this, you'll say, to us and our vocation?
Only thus much, that we have left our station,
And made this theatre our new plantation.
The factious natives never could agree ;
But aiming, as they call'd it, to be free,
Those playhouse Whigs set up for property.
Some say, they no obedience paid of late;
But would new fears and jealousies create ;
Till topsy-turvy they had turn'd the state.
Plain sense,
without the talent of foretelling,
Might guess 't would end in downright knocks
and quelling:

For seldom comes there better of rebelling.

When men will needlessly their freedom barter
For lawless power, sometimes they catch a
Tartar;
[Charter.

There's a daran'd word that rhymes to this, call'd

But, since the victory with us remains,
You shall be call'd to twelve in all our gains;
If you'll not think us saucy for our pains.
Old men shall have good old plays to delight'em,
And you, fair ladies and gallants,that slight 'em,
We'll treat with good new plays: if our new
wits can write 'em

In this low ebb our wares to you are shown;
By you those staple authors' worth is known;
For wit's a manufacture of your own. [prais'd,
When you, who only can, their scenes have
We'll boldly back, and say, their price is rais'd.

EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN AT OXFORD, BY MRS. MARSHALL,

OFT has our poet wish'd, this happy seat
Might prove his fading Muse's last retreat:
I wonder'd at his wish, but now I find
He sought for quiet, and content of mind;
Which noiseful towns and courts can never
know,

And only in the shades like laurels grow.
Youth, ere it sees the world, here studies rest,
And age returning thence concludes it best.
What wonder if we court that happiness
Yearly to share, which hourly you possess.
Teaching e'en you, while the vext world we
show,

Your peace to value more, and better know?
'Tis all we can return for favours past,
Whose holy memory shall ever last,
For patronage from him whose care presides
O'er every noble art, and every science guides:
Bathurst, a name the learn'd with reverence
know,

And scarcely more to his own Virgil owe;
Whose age enjoys but what his youth deserv'd,
To rule those Muses whom before he serv'd.
His learning, and untainted manners too,
We find, Athenians, are deriv'd to you:
Such ancient hospitality there rests
In yours, as dwelt in the first Grecian breasts,
Whose kindness was religion to their guests,
Such modesty did to our sex appear,
As, had there been no laws, we need not fear,
Since each of you was our protector here.
Converse so chaste, and so strict virtue shown
As might Apollo with the Muses own.
Till our return, we must despair to find
Judges so just, so knowing, and so kind.

PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY
OF OXFORD.

DISCORD and plots, which have undone our age,
With the same ruin have o'erwhelm'd the
stage.

Our house has suffer'd in the common woe,
We have been troubled with Scotch rebels too.

Our brethren are from Thames to Tweed de-
parted,

And of our sisters all the kinder-hearted
To Edinburgh gone, or coach'd, or carted.
With bonny bluecap there they act all night
For Scotch halfcrown, in English threepence
high.
[lean,
One nymph, to whom fat Sir John Falstaff's
There with her single person fills the scene.
Another, with long use and age decay'd,
Div'd here old woman, and rose there a maid.
Our trusty doorkeepers of former time
There strut and swagger in heroic rhyme.
Tack but a copper-lace to drugget suit,
And there's a hero made without dispute:
And that, which was a capon's tail before,
Becomes a plume for Indian emperor.
But all his subjects, to express the care
Of imitation, go, like Indians bare:
Lac'd linen there would be a dangerous thing,
It might perhaps a new rebellion bring;
The Scot, who wore it, would be chosen king.
But why should I these renegades describe,
When you yourselves have seen a lewder tribe?
Teague has been here, and, to this learned pit,
With Irish action slander'd English wit:
You have beheld such barbarous Macs appear,
As merited a second massacre :·
Such as, like Cain, were branded with dis-
And had their country stamp'd upon their face.
When strollers durst presume to pick your purse
We humbly thought our broken troop not worse.
How ill soe'er our action may deserve,
Oxford's a place where wit can never starve.

[grace,

PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY
OF OXFORD.

THOUGH actors cannot much of learning boast,
Of all who want it, we admire it most:
We love the praises of a learned pit,
As we remotely are allied to wit.
We speak our poet's wit, and trade in ore,
Like those, who touch upon the golden shore:
Betwixt our judges can distinction make,
Discern how much, and why, our poems take⚫
Mark if the fools, or men of sense, rejoice;
Whether the applause be only sound or voice.
When our fop gallants, or our city folly
Clap over-loud, it makes us melancholy: [raise,
We doubt that scene which does their wonder
And, for their ignorance, contemn their praise.
Judge then, if we who act, and they who write,
Should not be proud of giving you delight.
London likes grossly; but this nicer pit
Examines, fathoms all the depths of wit;