The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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PROLOGUE. Spoke by a young Gentleman,
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
PROLOGUE. Spoke by a young Gentleman,
who play'd the Part of Castalio in the Orphan, for the Benefit of his Friend, who play'd Polydore.
In
, for one night, receive a volunteer,
At a friend's call—Who would not, arm'd, appear?
Danger looks lovely, where the Cause invites,
And the near prospect rather charms; than frights.
Yet, since the task is arduous, and requires
A sea of passions, and a storm of fires;
For strength, a borrower to your stores I come,
And every bounteous hand shall lend me some:
At a friend's call—Who would not, arm'd, appear?
Danger looks lovely, where the Cause invites,
And the near prospect rather charms; than frights.
Yet, since the task is arduous, and requires
A sea of passions, and a storm of fires;
For strength, a borrower to your stores I come,
And every bounteous hand shall lend me some:
Teach me, ye Fair, how love and pity charm;
Your eyes can light me, and your influence warm:
Triumphs, and joys, your smiles can best supply;
But from your lovers, I must learn, to die.
Your eyes can light me, and your influence warm:
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But from your lovers, I must learn, to die.
Next—with your spirit, Sirs, my breast inspire,
Lend me your eloquence, your air, your fire.
Teach me your Softness, when in love I sue,
And, to encrease it, if I conquer, too.
But your inconstancy and lightness—those
Keep to yourselves, I want 'em not—Heaven knows!
Lend me your eloquence, your air, your fire.
Teach me your Softness, when in love I sue,
And, to encrease it, if I conquer, too.
But your inconstancy and lightness—those
Keep to yourselves, I want 'em not—Heaven knows!
Thus far, self-mov'd, and heedless of my trust,
I, guardian like, serv'd my own interest, first;
Now, I your smiles for Polydore exact,
Should I not speak for him, for whom I act?
Foes to all craft in love, your spleen express,
And nobly hate him, for his dark success:
To-night, forgive him—he but acts a part,
Far from his wish, and foreign to his heart:
He wears the blush of virtue on his face,
And rather would be wretched, than be base.
I, guardian like, serv'd my own interest, first;
Now, I your smiles for Polydore exact,
Should I not speak for him, for whom I act?
Foes to all craft in love, your spleen express,
And nobly hate him, for his dark success:
To-night, forgive him—he but acts a part,
Far from his wish, and foreign to his heart:
He wears the blush of virtue on his face,
And rather would be wretched, than be base.
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If, in the stage's gathering night, we stray,
And (all its guides, now lost,) mistake our way;
Be this my Polydore's, and my defence;
Indulge us—'tis our first, and last offence.
And (all its guides, now lost,) mistake our way;
Be this my Polydore's, and my defence;
Indulge us—'tis our first, and last offence.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |