The Insolvent : or Filial Piety A Tragedy |
PROLOGUE. Spoke by Mr. CIBBER. (Then in mourning for his father) |
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 | The Insolvent : or Filial Piety |  |
PROLOGUE. Spoke by Mr. CIBBER. (Then in mourning for his father)
Our
scenes, to-night, would nature's pangs impart;
True filial piety should reach the heart.
I feel it now—That thought the tear shall claim;
To merit sacred, and immortal fame.
True filial piety should reach the heart.
I feel it now—That thought the tear shall claim;
To merit sacred, and immortal fame.
Now sleeps the honour'd dust, which gave me birth;
Recent in death, but newly lodg'd in earth:
Forgive the heart-felt grief! the filial lay!
The public tear might drop o'er Cibber's clay!
Recent in death, but newly lodg'd in earth:
Forgive the heart-felt grief! the filial lay!
The public tear might drop o'er Cibber's clay!
His comic force—for more than half an age;
His well-wrote moral scene, his manly page,
Your fathers fathers pleas'd—His scenes shall live;
And, to your childrens children, equal pleasure give.
His well-wrote moral scene, his manly page,
Your fathers fathers pleas'd—His scenes shall live;
And, to your childrens children, equal pleasure give.
Forgive the filial dews that thus distil—
'Tis from the heart they flow, and not from skill:
By nature mov'd, your patience thus I try;
Art would but give my suff'ring soul the lie.
Now for the father's sake, the son endure;
Let his paternal worth your smile secure.
'Tis from the heart they flow, and not from skill:
By nature mov'd, your patience thus I try;
Art would but give my suff'ring soul the lie.
Now for the father's sake, the son endure;
Let his paternal worth your smile secure.
Let his rich merit my poor wants attone;
His high desert I plead—Boast none my own.
Let then this tribute, to the father due;
This public tribute, be approv'd by you.
His high desert I plead—Boast none my own.
Let then this tribute, to the father due;
This public tribute, be approv'd by you.
Whatever faults may thro' this piece be shewn,
No living bard can now those faults attone,
While such you, transient, mark—Let mercy spare,
Such parts as you may think some merit share.
No living bard can now those faults attone,
While such you, transient, mark—Let mercy spare,
Such parts as you may think some merit share.
Where judgment wakes, let candour intervene,
Mark out the failings with that golden mean,
Nor for a single sentence damn a scene.
Mark out the failings with that golden mean,
Nor for a single sentence damn a scene.
To our young actors too your smiles extend;
Youth claims indulgence—as want claims a friend:
Whate'er their flatt'ring hopes, their fears are great,
Which your applause alone can dissipate:
And, 'tis a maxim with the truly brave,
They triumph most, who generously save.
Youth claims indulgence—as want claims a friend:
Whate'er their flatt'ring hopes, their fears are great,
Which your applause alone can dissipate:
And, 'tis a maxim with the truly brave,
They triumph most, who generously save.
| The Insolvent : or Filial Piety | |