Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works in Prose and Verse. The Text Edited by A. R. Waller |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
PROLOGUE
TO THE
ORPHAN.
|
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() | Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works | ![]() |
PROLOGUE TO THE ORPHAN.
Represented by some of the Westminster-Scholars at Hickford's Dancing-Room, the 2d of February, 1720.
What wou'd my humble Comrades have Me say?
Gentle Spectators, pray excuse the Play?
Such Work by hireling Actors shou'd be done,
Whom You may Clap or Hiss, for half a Crown:
Our generous Scenes for Friendship We repeat;
And if We don't delight, at least We treat.
Ours is the Damage, if We chance to blunder;
We may be ask'd whose Patent We act under.
Gentle Spectators, pray excuse the Play?
Such Work by hireling Actors shou'd be done,
Whom You may Clap or Hiss, for half a Crown:
Our generous Scenes for Friendship We repeat;
And if We don't delight, at least We treat.
Ours is the Damage, if We chance to blunder;
We may be ask'd whose Patent We act under.
How shall We gain you? A-la-mode de France?
We hir'd this Room; but none of Us can dance:
In cutting Capers We shall never please:
Our Learning does not lye below our Knees.
We hir'd this Room; but none of Us can dance:
In cutting Capers We shall never please:
Our Learning does not lye below our Knees.
77
Shall We procure You Symphony and Sound?
Then You must Each subscribe Two hundred Pound.
There We shou'd fail too, as to Point of Voice:
Mistake Us not; We're no Italian Boys:
True Britons born, from Westminster We come;
And only speak the Style of ancient Rome.
We wou'd deserve, not poorly beg Applause;
And stand or fall by Freind's or Busby's Laws.
Then You must Each subscribe Two hundred Pound.
There We shou'd fail too, as to Point of Voice:
Mistake Us not; We're no Italian Boys:
True Britons born, from Westminster We come;
And only speak the Style of ancient Rome.
We wou'd deserve, not poorly beg Applause;
And stand or fall by Freind's or Busby's Laws.
For the Distress'd Your Pity We implore:
If once refus'd, We trouble You no more,
But leave Our Orphan squawling at your Door.
If once refus'd, We trouble You no more,
But leave Our Orphan squawling at your Door.
![]() | Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works | ![]() |