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, for Mr. Cibber, in the Fatal Bribery.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
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Prologue, for Mr. Cibber, in the Fatal Bribery.
Debtor and Creditor th' account begin,
But then, comes joy—wife—misery—death—and sin.
While, from these varying lights, fierce fires we raise,
Lend but attention, and your tears shall praise.
But then, comes joy—wife—misery—death—and sin.
While, from these varying lights, fierce fires we raise,
Lend but attention, and your tears shall praise.
Poor (at first opening) seems the plot, we chuse;
But no felt indigence unfir'd the muse:
Insolvent pris'ner bears no aweful sound;
Yet, hope strong buildings, from that humble ground.
Few, are the public stains, that tinge the fame,
Of this brave, rich, good-natur'd, nation's name.
Yet, one there is—from time's long license grown,
That blots out pity, and turns flesh to stone.
But no felt indigence unfir'd the muse:
Insolvent pris'ner bears no aweful sound;
Yet, hope strong buildings, from that humble ground.
Few, are the public stains, that tinge the fame,
Of this brave, rich, good-natur'd, nation's name.
Yet, one there is—from time's long license grown,
That blots out pity, and turns flesh to stone.
'Tis the deaf rage, that, where hard wants oppress,
Doubles th' insolvent suff'rer's dire distress,
Stung by this wasp, past friendships lose their weight;
Warp'd estimation wears a face like hate!
Suspended mercy bids affliction smart,
And, in a scale of stint, immures her heart.
Self, yet unreach'd by woe—made proud by gain,
Blind to disaster, and insulting pain;
Short-sighted ease hugs her own lot secure,
And marks no diff'rence, 'twixt the base, and poor!
Flings from calamity, turns short on grief,
And to the prison, (live grave!) refers Relief.
Doubles th' insolvent suff'rer's dire distress,
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Warp'd estimation wears a face like hate!
Suspended mercy bids affliction smart,
And, in a scale of stint, immures her heart.
Self, yet unreach'd by woe—made proud by gain,
Blind to disaster, and insulting pain;
Short-sighted ease hugs her own lot secure,
And marks no diff'rence, 'twixt the base, and poor!
Flings from calamity, turns short on grief,
And to the prison, (live grave!) refers Relief.
So, for a while—triumphantly, severe,
Tow'rs the big insult—and disdains to hear;
At last, comes disappointment home—Then, starts
Touch'd sense—and wonders! at men's cruel hearts!
Then, (self, still, upmost) the rows'd sleeper shakes—
And, insolently, hopes—compassion wakes!
But scorn (close waiter!) kicks the scorner's heel,
And he, that shun'd to hear, vouchsafes to feel.
Tow'rs the big insult—and disdains to hear;
At last, comes disappointment home—Then, starts
Touch'd sense—and wonders! at men's cruel hearts!
Then, (self, still, upmost) the rows'd sleeper shakes—
And, insolently, hopes—compassion wakes!
But scorn (close waiter!) kicks the scorner's heel,
And he, that shun'd to hear, vouchsafes to feel.
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Too late, he feels!—the eye, that wakes for all,
Foredoom'd his anguish, and enjoys his fall;
Points, to his trembling view, that Wiseman's school;
That God-given law th' all-temp'ring Golden-Rule!
Bids him thank bitterness—for due despair,
And—since he could not pity—learn to bear.
Foredoom'd his anguish, and enjoys his fall;
Points, to his trembling view, that Wiseman's school;
That God-given law th' all-temp'ring Golden-Rule!
Bids him thank bitterness—for due despair,
And—since he could not pity—learn to bear.
From our last age's Play's exemplar aim,
Present, and past (we find) too much, the same:
Stern, unrelenting, interest's partial will
Reign'd, then, resistless:—and it reigns so, still.
How happy were th' effect, could miseries (here)
From pride's correction; mourn'd by pity's tear,
Teach the dry rock to melt, in pain-touch'd flow!
And ease th' unhoping crowds—that sigh, in woe!
Present, and past (we find) too much, the same:
Stern, unrelenting, interest's partial will
Reign'd, then, resistless:—and it reigns so, still.
How happy were th' effect, could miseries (here)
From pride's correction; mourn'd by pity's tear,
Teach the dry rock to melt, in pain-touch'd flow!
And ease th' unhoping crowds—that sigh, in woe!
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |