 | Caesar In Aegypt |  |
PROLOGUE. Spoken by Mr. WILKS.
When
Roman Arms their Hostile Terrors hurl'd,
And march'd in Triumph o'er the Conquer'd World;
When Plunder'd Provinces in Ruins mourn'd,
And Captive Kings the Victor's Carr adorn'd:
When proud Patricians gave whole Realms away,
And Crown'd their Vassals with Imperial Sway:
No Wonder, then, the same Ambitious Lords,
For Want of Foes, drew on themselves their Swords.
And march'd in Triumph o'er the Conquer'd World;
When Plunder'd Provinces in Ruins mourn'd,
And Captive Kings the Victor's Carr adorn'd:
When proud Patricians gave whole Realms away,
And Crown'd their Vassals with Imperial Sway:
No Wonder, then, the same Ambitious Lords,
For Want of Foes, drew on themselves their Swords.
Pompey and Cæsar rul'd that World they won,
'Till each determin'd to be Lord alone:
Hence flam'd that Fire, whose Civil Rage destroy'd
The glorious Liberty their Sires enjoy'd:
Pharsalia's Field at length decides the Day,
And gave Mankind, to Cæsar's Arms, a Prey.
'Till each determin'd to be Lord alone:
Hence flam'd that Fire, whose Civil Rage destroy'd
The glorious Liberty their Sires enjoy'd:
Pharsalia's Field at length decides the Day,
And gave Mankind, to Cæsar's Arms, a Prey.
Thus stood their State, when vanquish'd Pompey fled
From Cæsar's Sword, to ask Ægyptian Aid.
—There starts our Play, and into Action draws
What Fate befel the pity'd Pompey's Cause:
A Charge well-worthy of an abler Muse;
But none, a Post, for being too good, refuse!
Warm'd by the Subject, and by Roman Fire,
Our Bard gives all that Lucan cou'd inspire!
Yet what avails his boasted Care and Pains,
While Gothic Taste prefers, to labour'd Scenes,
The mute Exploits of Motley Harlequins?
Others, perhaps, in the Politer Throng,
Might better have been pleas'd, had Cæsar Sung.
From Cæsar's Sword, to ask Ægyptian Aid.
—There starts our Play, and into Action draws
What Fate befel the pity'd Pompey's Cause:
A Charge well-worthy of an abler Muse;
But none, a Post, for being too good, refuse!
Warm'd by the Subject, and by Roman Fire,
Our Bard gives all that Lucan cou'd inspire!
Yet what avails his boasted Care and Pains,
While Gothic Taste prefers, to labour'd Scenes,
The mute Exploits of Motley Harlequins?
Others, perhaps, in the Politer Throng,
Might better have been pleas'd, had Cæsar Sung.
Far be it from us to question your Delight!
To be, at Pleasure wrong, is English Right!
In vain for boasted Freedom you declare,
Unless you keep the Liberty—to Err!
—Since then rank Farce is grown a Taste so new,
No wonder we exhibit Nonsense too!
And tho' w'are but Beginners there, we'll drudge,
And entertain as low as Crouds can judge!
While plain October can secure their Votes,
Why shou'd we spill Champaign on vulgar Throats?
Howe'er, to-night (by such gross Scenes betray'd)
We call the Roman Julius to our Aid:
On You it lies to save the Cause of Verse,
And give the Palm to Tragedy, or Farce.
To be, at Pleasure wrong, is English Right!
In vain for boasted Freedom you declare,
Unless you keep the Liberty—to Err!
—Since then rank Farce is grown a Taste so new,
No wonder we exhibit Nonsense too!
And entertain as low as Crouds can judge!
While plain October can secure their Votes,
Why shou'd we spill Champaign on vulgar Throats?
Howe'er, to-night (by such gross Scenes betray'd)
We call the Roman Julius to our Aid:
On You it lies to save the Cause of Verse,
And give the Palm to Tragedy, or Farce.
| Caesar In Aegypt | |