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By Root 19672 0

down with Audiences of so nice and delicate a Taste, as in this Age frequent the Theatres. It would be very hard upon such a Community, where so many Interests are concern’d, and so much Merit in their Business allow’d, if they had not a Priviledge of refusing some crude Pieces, too imperfect for the Entertainment of the Publick. I would not be thought to inferr, that they have never discourag’d what They might, perhaps, afterwards wish they had receiv’d. They do not, I believe, set up for such a Constant Infallibility. But if We do but fairly consider out of above Four Thousand Plays extant, how small a Number will now stand the Test; if We do but consider too, how often a raw Performance has been extoll’d by the Partiality of private Friendship; and what a Clamour of Injury has been rais’d from that Quarter, upon such Performance meeting a Repulse; we may pretty easily account for the Grounds upon which they proceeded in discountenancing some Plays, and the harsh Things that are thrown out upon their giving a Repulse to others.

But I should beg Pardon for interfering in this Question, in which I am properly neither Party, nor Judge. I am only throwing out a private Opinion, without Interest or Prejudice, and if I am right in the Notion, Valeat quantum valere potest.

PROLOGUE

Written by Philip Frowde, Esq;

And spoken by Mr. Wilks.

As in some Region, where indulgent Skies

Enrich the Soil, a thousand Plants arise

Frequent and bold; a thousand Landskips meet

Our ravisht View, irregularly sweet:

We gaze, divided, now on These, now Those;

While All one beauteous Wilderness compose.

Such Shakespeare’s Genius was: — Let Britons boast

The glorious Birth, and, eager, strive who most

Shall celebrate his Verse; for while we raise

Trophies of Fame to him, ourselves we praise:

Display the Talents of a British mind,

Where All is great, free, open, unconfin’d.

Be it our Pride, to reach his daring Flight;

And relish Beauties, he alone could write.

Most modern Authors, fearful to aspire,

With Imitation cramp their genial Fire;

The well-schemed Plan keep strict before their Eyes,

Dwell on Proportions, trifling Decencies;

While noble Nature all neglected lies.

Nature, that claims Precedency of Place,

Perfection’s Basis, and essential Grace!

Nature so intimately Shakespeare knew,

From her first Springs his Sentiments he drew;

Most greatly wild they flow; and, when most wild, yet true.

While These, secure in what the Criticks teach,

Of servile Laws still dread the dangerous Breach;

His vast, unbounded, Soul disdain’d their Rule,

Above the Precepts of the Pedant School!

Oh! could the Bard, revisiting our Light,

Receive these Honours done his Shade To-night,

How would he bless the Scene this Age displays,

Transcending his Eliza’s golden Days!

When great Augustus fills the British Throne,

And his lov’d Consort makes the Muse her own.

How would he joy, to see fair Merit’s Claim

Thus answer’d in his own reviving Fame!

How cry with Pride — Oblivion I forgive;

This my last Child to latest Times shall live:

Lost to the World, well for the Birth it stay’d

To this auspicious Æra well delay’d.

Floral ornament with lyre and trumpets

EPILOGUE

Written by a Friend.

Spoken by Mrs. Oldfield.

Well, Heaven defend us from these ancient Plays,

These Moral Bards of good Queen Bess’s Days!

They write from Virtue’s Laws, and think no further;

But draw a Rape as dreadful as a Murther.

You modern Wits, more deeply vers’d in Nature,

Can tip the wink, to tell us, you know better;

As who shou’d say— ’Tis no such killing Matter.—

We’ve heard old Stories told, and yet ne’er wonder’d,

Of many a Prude, that has endur’d a Hundred:

And Violante grieves, or we’re mistaken,

Not, because ravisht; but because — forsaken.—

Had this been written to the modern Stage,

Her Manners had been copy’d from the Age.

Then, tho’ she had been once a little wrong,

She still had had the Grace to’ve held her Tongue;

And after all, with downcast Looks, been led

Like any Virgin to the Bridal Bed.

There, if the good Man question