 | The Tragedy of Zara |  |
PROLOGUE.
Written by COLLEY CIBBER, Esq;Spoke by Mr. CIBBER.
The
French, howe'er Mercurial they may seem,
Extinguish half their Fire, by Critic Phlegm:
While English Writers Nature's Freedom claim,
And warm their Scenes with an ungovern'd Flame:
'Tis strange, that Nature never should inspire
A Racine's Judgment, with a Shakespear's Fire!
Extinguish half their Fire, by Critic Phlegm:
While English Writers Nature's Freedom claim,
And warm their Scenes with an ungovern'd Flame:
'Tis strange, that Nature never should inspire
A Racine's Judgment, with a Shakespear's Fire!
Howe'er, to-night—(to promise much we're loth)
But—you've a Chance, to have a Taste of Both.
From English Plays, Zara's French Author fir'd,
Confess'd his Muse, beyond herself, inspir'd;
From rack'd Othello's Rage, he rais'd his Style,
And snatch'd the Brand, that lights his Tragick Pile:
Zara's Success his utmost Hopes outflew,
And a twice twentieth Weeping Audience drew.
But—you've a Chance, to have a Taste of Both.
From English Plays, Zara's French Author fir'd,
Confess'd his Muse, beyond herself, inspir'd;
From rack'd Othello's Rage, he rais'd his Style,
And snatch'd the Brand, that lights his Tragick Pile:
Zara's Success his utmost Hopes outflew,
And a twice twentieth Weeping Audience drew.
As for our English Friend, he leaves to you,
Whate'er may seem to his Performance due;
No Views of Gain, his Hopes or Fears engage,
He gives a Child of Leisure to the Stage:
Willing to try, if yet, forsaken Nature,
Can charm, with any One remember'd Feature.
Whate'er may seem to his Performance due;
No Views of Gain, his Hopes or Fears engage,
He gives a Child of Leisure to the Stage:
Willing to try, if yet, forsaken Nature,
Can charm, with any One remember'd Feature.
Thus far, the Author speaks—but now, the Player,
With trembling Heart, prefers His humble Prayer.
To-night, the greatest Venture of my Life,
Is Lost, or Sav'd, as You receive—a Wife:
If Time, you think, may ripen her, to Merit,
With gentle Smiles, support her wavering Spirit.
Zara, in France, at once, an Actress rais'd,
Warm'd into Skill, by being kindly Prais'd:
O! could such Wonders Here, from Favour flow,
How would our Zara's Heart, with Transport Glow!
But she, alas! by juster Fears opprest,
Begs but your bare Endurance, at the Best.
Her unskill'd Tongue would simple Nature speak,
Nor dares Her Bounds, for false Applauses break.
Amidst a thousand Faults, her best Presence
To please—is unpresuming Innocence.
When a chaste Heart's Distress your Grief demands,
One silent Tear outweighs a thousand Hands.
If she conveys the pleasing Passions, RIGHT,
Guard and Suppor her, this decisive Night.
If she mistakes—or, finds her Strength too small,
Let interposing Pity—break her Fall.
In You it rests, to Save her, or Destroy,
If She draws Tears from You, I Weep—for Joy.
With trembling Heart, prefers His humble Prayer.
To-night, the greatest Venture of my Life,
Is Lost, or Sav'd, as You receive—a Wife:
With gentle Smiles, support her wavering Spirit.
Zara, in France, at once, an Actress rais'd,
Warm'd into Skill, by being kindly Prais'd:
O! could such Wonders Here, from Favour flow,
How would our Zara's Heart, with Transport Glow!
But she, alas! by juster Fears opprest,
Begs but your bare Endurance, at the Best.
Her unskill'd Tongue would simple Nature speak,
Nor dares Her Bounds, for false Applauses break.
Amidst a thousand Faults, her best Presence
To please—is unpresuming Innocence.
When a chaste Heart's Distress your Grief demands,
One silent Tear outweighs a thousand Hands.
If she conveys the pleasing Passions, RIGHT,
Guard and Suppor her, this decisive Night.
If she mistakes—or, finds her Strength too small,
Let interposing Pity—break her Fall.
In You it rests, to Save her, or Destroy,
If She draws Tears from You, I Weep—for Joy.
| The Tragedy of Zara | |