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PROLOGUE

SPOKEN

BY

Mr. GARRICK,

At the Opening of the Theatre in DRURY-LANE, 1747.

By the Same.

WHEN learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes

First rear'd the stage, immortal SHAKSPEARE rofe;

Each change of many-colour'd life he drew,
Exhaufted worlds, and then imagin'd new :
Existence faw him fpurn her bounded reign,
And panting Time toil'd after him in vain :
His powerful ftrokes prefiding truth impress'd,
And unrefifted paffion ftorm'd the breast.

Then JONSON came, inftructed from the fchool,
To please in method, and invent by rule;
His ftudious patience, and laborious art,
By regular approach affail'd the heart;
Cold approbation gave the ling'ring bays,
For those who durft not cenfure, fcarce could praise.
A mortal born, he met the general doom,
But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb.

The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame, Nor wifh'd for JONSON's art, or SHAKSPEARE's flame: Themselves they ftudied, as they felt their writ; Intrigue was plot, obfcenity was wit.

Vice always found a fympathetic friend,

They pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend.
Yet bards like these afpir'd to lafting praise,
And proudly hop'd to pimp in future days.

Their caufe was gen'ral, their fupports were ftrong,
Their slaves were willing, and their reign was long;
'Till shame regain'd the poft that fenfe betray'd,
And Virtue call'd Oblivion to her aid.

Then crush'd by rules, and weaken'd as refin'd,
For years the power of tragedy declin'd;
From bard to bard the frigid caution crept,
"Till declamation roar'd, while paffion flept.
Yet ftill did Virtue deign the stage to tread,
Philofophy remain'd, though Nature fied.
But forc'd at length her ancient reign to quit,
She faw great Fauftus lay the ghost of Wit:
Exulting Folly hail'd the joyful day,
And pantomime and fong confirm'd her fway.

But who the coming changes can prefage,
And mark the future periods of the stage?
Perhaps if fkill could diftant times explore,
New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in flore.
Perhaps, where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet dy'd,
On flying cars new forcerers may ride.

Perhaps

Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance ?)
Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet may dance.
Hard is his lot, that here by Fortune plac'd,
Must watch the wild viciffitudes of tafte;

With every meteor of caprice must play,
And chace the new-blown bubbles of the day.
Ah! let not cenfure term our fate our choice;
The stage but echoes back the public voice,
The drama's laws the drama's patrons give,
For we that live to please, must please, to live!

Then prompt no more the follies, you decry, As tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die; 'Tis yours this night to bid the reign commence Of refcu'd nature and reviving sense;

To chace the charms of found, the pomp of fhow,

For useful mirth, and falutary woe;

Bid fcenic virtue form the rifing age,

And truth diffufe her radiance from the ftage,

淡淡茶

淡淡

涨

XXXXX

Of ACTIVE and RETIRED LIFE.

AN

EPISTLE

то

HENRY COVENTRY, Esq.

By WILLIAM MELMOTH, Efq;

First printed in the Year MDCCXXXV.

Meo quidem judicio neuter culpandus, alter dum expetit debitos titulos, dum alter mavult videri contempfile.

Y

PLIN. Ep.

ES, you condemn thofe fages too refin'd,
That gravely lecture ere they know mankind
Who whilft ambition's fiercer fires they blame,
Would damp each useful spark that kindles fame.
'Tis in falfe eftimates the folly lies;

The paffion's blameless, when the judgment's wife.
In vain philofophers with warmth conteft,
Life's secret shade, or open walk is best:
Each has its separate joys, and each its use:

This calls the patriot forth, and that the Mufe.

a Author of Philemon to Hydafpes. He died 29th December 1752.

Hence

Hence not alike to all the fpecies, heav'n
An equal thirft of public fame has giv'n :
Patrius it forms to fhine in action great;
While Decio's talents beft adorn retreat.
If where Pierian maids delight to dwell,
The haunts of filence, and the peaceful cell,
Had, fair Aftræa! been thy Talbot's choice,

b

Could lift'ning crowds now hang upon his voice?
And thou, bleft maid, might'ft long have wept in vain
The diftant glories of a fecond reign,

In exile doom'd yet ages to complain.

Were high ambition ftill the power confefs'd That rul'd with equal fway in every breast,

Say where the glories of the facred nine?

Where Homer's verfe fublime, or, Milton, thine?

Nor thou, fweet Bard! who "turn'd the tuneful art, "From found to fenfe, from fancy to the heart,"

Thy lays inftructive to the world hadft giv'n,
Nor greatly justify'd the laws of heav'n.

Let fatire blaft with every mark of hate,

The vain afpirer, or dishonest Great,
Whom love of wealth, or wild ambition's fway
Push forward, ftill regardless of the way;

b Charles Lord Talbot, Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain. He died 14th February 1737.

c Mr. Pope.