 | Evadne ; or, The Statue |  |
EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY MRS. FAUCIT.
Drop Scene.—The Hall of Dramatic Statues.
Sent hither by our bard, no pleasant jaunt—
In epilogue a timorous debutante,
I ask your favour, like a prudent elf,
One word for him, and one word for myself!
In epilogue a timorous debutante,
I ask your favour, like a prudent elf,
One word for him, and one word for myself!
Cut off, like Crusoe, from the social walk,
With no Man Friday to keep up the talk
Frown'd on by yonder monumental sages— (Pointing to the Drop.)
In marble. What an awful thing the stage is!
Of Thespian bards yon Alpha and Omega,
From mighty Shakspeare down to Lope de Vega;
Each shakes his awful curls, and seems to say,—
“Surely the author means to damn his play;
What! send an actress out, the town t'implore,
Who never spoke an epilogue before!
Olivia for Evadne,—mighty clever!
Woman for woman! that is new, however!”
With no Man Friday to keep up the talk
Frown'd on by yonder monumental sages— (Pointing to the Drop.)
In marble. What an awful thing the stage is!
Of Thespian bards yon Alpha and Omega,
From mighty Shakspeare down to Lope de Vega;
Each shakes his awful curls, and seems to say,—
“Surely the author means to damn his play;
What! send an actress out, the town t'implore,
Who never spoke an epilogue before!
Olivia for Evadne,—mighty clever!
Woman for woman! that is new, however!”
Peace, ye monopolists, on marble shelves,
You want to damn all statues but yourselves.
Avaunt! “I've caught the speaker's eye” before ye,
Rear-rank, attention! while I tell a story.
Pygmalion once, to ape the turner's trade,
With curious labour carved an ivory maid,
But as immortal grace each limb unfolds,
He glows with passion for the maid he moulds,
And cries, (how vain were artists e'en in Greece)
“Come! that's a statue! that's art's masterpiece!”
Long he adores her with a lover's mien,
And thus, at length, petitions beauty's queen;
“Oh, Venus, bid me taste of Hymen's bliss,
And ‘bone of my bone’ make yon ivory miss!
Hush! foolish youth!” (aside thus Momus sung)
“Leave well alone! a statue has no tongue!”
Vain was the hint; the silliest of the Greeks
Repeats his vow, and gains the boon he seeks.
The statue woke to life, with eager spring
Pygmalion changed his chisel for a ring;
And as no parent lived to thwart his plans,
Of course no cross papa forbade the banns.
You want to damn all statues but yourselves.
Avaunt! “I've caught the speaker's eye” before ye,
Rear-rank, attention! while I tell a story.
Pygmalion once, to ape the turner's trade,
With curious labour carved an ivory maid,
But as immortal grace each limb unfolds,
He glows with passion for the maid he moulds,
And cries, (how vain were artists e'en in Greece)
“Come! that's a statue! that's art's masterpiece!”
Long he adores her with a lover's mien,
And thus, at length, petitions beauty's queen;
And ‘bone of my bone’ make yon ivory miss!
Hush! foolish youth!” (aside thus Momus sung)
“Leave well alone! a statue has no tongue!”
Vain was the hint; the silliest of the Greeks
Repeats his vow, and gains the boon he seeks.
The statue woke to life, with eager spring
Pygmalion changed his chisel for a ring;
And as no parent lived to thwart his plans,
Of course no cross papa forbade the banns.
From that time forth, unwarmed by lover's breath,
Statues, or bone, or stone, have slept in death.
But if to-night, you bid Evadne thrive,
We hope to see the miracle revive.
To beauty's queen the Grecian poured his vow,
Our poet bends to beauty's daughters now;
Oh! may they waken his dramatic wife,
And, smiling, warm his statue into life!
Statues, or bone, or stone, have slept in death.
But if to-night, you bid Evadne thrive,
We hope to see the miracle revive.
To beauty's queen the Grecian poured his vow,
Our poet bends to beauty's daughters now;
Oh! may they waken his dramatic wife,
And, smiling, warm his statue into life!
| Evadne ; or, The Statue | |