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Mustapha

A Tragedy
  
  
  
PROLOGUE. By Mr. Thomson.
  
  
  

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85

PROLOGUE. By Mr. Thomson.

Spoken by Mr. Milward.
Since Athens first began to draw mankind,
To picture life, and shew th'impassion'd mind;
The truly Wise have ever deem'd the stage,
The moral school of each enlighten'd age.
There, in full pomp, the Tragic Muse appears,
Queen of soft sorrows, and of useful fears.
Faint is the lesson reason'd rules impart:
She pours it strong and instant thro' the heart.
If virtue is her theme; we sudden glow
With generous flame: and, what we feel, we grow.
If Vice she paints; indignant passions rise;
The villain sees himself with loathing eyes:
His soul starts, conscious, at another's groan;
And the pale tyrant trembles on his throne.
To-night our meaning Scene attempts to show,
What fell events from dark suspicion flow;
Chief when it taints a lawless monarch's mind,
To the false herd of flattering slaves confin'd.
The soul sinks gradual to so dire a state;
Even excellence but serves to feed its hate:
To hate remorseless, cruelty succeeds,
And every worth, and every virtue bleeds.
Behold, our Author at your bar appears,
His modest hopes depress'd by conscious fears.
Faults he has many—But to ballance these,
His aim is honest: and he strives to please.
All slighter errors let indulgence spare;
And be his equal trial full and fair.
For this best British privilege we call:
Then—as he merits, let him stand, or fall.