 | The Captives |  |
PROLOGUE,
By THOMAS VAUGHAN, Esq.The Speaker Mr. Bannister, jun. in the Character of a distressed and disappointed Poet, peeping in at the door, looks round the house.
Are you all seated—may I venture in?
[Noise behind.
Hush—be quiet—stop your unfriendly din—
Whilst I—with more than common grief oppress'd,
A tale unfold—just bursting from my breast.
[Advancing, points to the Pit doors.
But first—are both your pit doors shut, I pray?
Or noise will drown, my strictures on the play,
[Noise from front boxes opening doors and calling places.
Do you hear—how very hard my case is—
Instead of bravo, bravo—places—places—
[mimicking.
Your seat, my Lord, is here—your La'ship's there,
Indeed it quite distracts both bard and player.
Truce then with your confounded clank of keys,
And tell these fair disturbers of our ease,
At church, perhaps, 'tis no such mighty crime,
But here—quite vulgar to be out of time.
[Noise from front boxes repeated.
Again—why sure the devil's in the clown,
Do pray Sir Harry knock that fellow down.—
[pointing.
And you, ye Gods—it were a dreadful shock,
If thrown from thence—a Critic's head is rock.—
[the pit.
So keep your centres, and my bus'ness know;
I am a bard, as these my Acts will shew.
[Pulling out plays from each coat pocket.
But then the managers—aye! there's the curse
Which makes us patient bear the sad reverse,
To hear, they've several pieces to peruse,
And when I call, all answer they refuse.
But say, is't fit, that mine be laid aside,
To gratify their present author's pride?
Who comes with nature, and such idle stuff,
As please my friends above there well enough—
[the galleries.
When I, more bold and daring, quit all rules,
[In the pompous burlesque of Tragedy.
And scorn to draw from Classics and the Schools;
But bid the dreadful surges from a grave,
To sink the merchant “in the bankrupt wave.”
Or when I long for fair Aurora's light,
“I am witch-ridden by the hag of night.”
Thus always keep sublimity in eye,
And sometimes hand in hand—simplicity.
New traps, new passages for ever raise,
With starts and attitudes to gain your praise,
Try every incident of trick and art,
To mend, at once, the drama and the heart.
Such is my style, and such each nervous line,
Which all my friends who read pronounce divine;
And yet these hostile doors their barriers keep,
And all my labours—in my pockets sleep.
[Pointing to them.
Revenge my cause, assert each critic right,
And damn, with me, the author of to-night,
Whose play, tho' yet unknown, untried, unseen,
Has felt in paragraphs an author's spleen.
But hark!—I'll tell you a secret—'twas I,
Who drew the shaft, and forg'd th'envenom'd lie,
To crush this simple nature which he boasts,
Drawn from the manners of the northern coasts;
For should his hope your generous plaudits meet,
I shall be found aboard—the Lighter Fleet.
[Advances forward and kneels.
[Noise behind.
Hush—be quiet—stop your unfriendly din—
Whilst I—with more than common grief oppress'd,
A tale unfold—just bursting from my breast.
[Advancing, points to the Pit doors.
But first—are both your pit doors shut, I pray?
Or noise will drown, my strictures on the play,
[Noise from front boxes opening doors and calling places.
Do you hear—how very hard my case is—
Instead of bravo, bravo—places—places—
[mimicking.
Your seat, my Lord, is here—your La'ship's there,
Indeed it quite distracts both bard and player.
Truce then with your confounded clank of keys,
And tell these fair disturbers of our ease,
At church, perhaps, 'tis no such mighty crime,
But here—quite vulgar to be out of time.
[Noise from front boxes repeated.
Again—why sure the devil's in the clown,
Do pray Sir Harry knock that fellow down.—
[pointing.
And you, ye Gods—it were a dreadful shock,
If thrown from thence—a Critic's head is rock.—
[the pit.
So keep your centres, and my bus'ness know;
I am a bard, as these my Acts will shew.
[Pulling out plays from each coat pocket.
But then the managers—aye! there's the curse
Which makes us patient bear the sad reverse,
vi
And when I call, all answer they refuse.
But say, is't fit, that mine be laid aside,
To gratify their present author's pride?
Who comes with nature, and such idle stuff,
As please my friends above there well enough—
[the galleries.
When I, more bold and daring, quit all rules,
[In the pompous burlesque of Tragedy.
And scorn to draw from Classics and the Schools;
But bid the dreadful surges from a grave,
To sink the merchant “in the bankrupt wave.”
Or when I long for fair Aurora's light,
“I am witch-ridden by the hag of night.”
Thus always keep sublimity in eye,
And sometimes hand in hand—simplicity.
New traps, new passages for ever raise,
With starts and attitudes to gain your praise,
Try every incident of trick and art,
To mend, at once, the drama and the heart.
Such is my style, and such each nervous line,
Which all my friends who read pronounce divine;
And yet these hostile doors their barriers keep,
And all my labours—in my pockets sleep.
[Pointing to them.
Revenge my cause, assert each critic right,
And damn, with me, the author of to-night,
Whose play, tho' yet unknown, untried, unseen,
Has felt in paragraphs an author's spleen.
But hark!—I'll tell you a secret—'twas I,
Who drew the shaft, and forg'd th'envenom'd lie,
To crush this simple nature which he boasts,
Drawn from the manners of the northern coasts;
For should his hope your generous plaudits meet,
I shall be found aboard—the Lighter Fleet.
Then hear a malefactor in blank verse,
Nor be led captive, by his Gothick Erse,
But urge my vengeance, in the cat-call's curse.
[Going stops, and looks around the house.
Nor be led captive, by his Gothick Erse,
But urge my vengeance, in the cat-call's curse.
vii
Yet, hold; methinks my words seem lost in air,
And smiles of candour for the bard declare;
For here no secret influence e'er was known,
But merit triumphs in herself alone
As all who know ye, must in this agree,
A British audience ever will be free.
And smiles of candour for the bard declare;
For here no secret influence e'er was known,
But merit triumphs in herself alone
As all who know ye, must in this agree,
A British audience ever will be free.
| The Captives | |