 | Timoleon |  |
A PROLOGUE
Written by a Friend, and design'd to have been Spoken by Mr. WILKS.
To
mend the Manners, and reform the Age,
To banish each new Folly from the Stage,
Let Beggars to their proper Posts repair,
Nor Newgate Scenes defile the Theatre;
Let Farce and Operas fall into Disgrace,
Let Sense once more resume her Native Place.
To banish each new Folly from the Stage,
Let Beggars to their proper Posts repair,
Nor Newgate Scenes defile the Theatre;
Let Farce and Operas fall into Disgrace,
Let Sense once more resume her Native Place.
To-night, a Grecian on our Stage will shine,
That fires with Liberty each glowing Line.
Let others regularly rise to Fame,
By painful Steps, acquire a glorious Name;
At once Timoleon opens to our View,
The Man, the Hero, and the Patriot too.
That fires with Liberty each glowing Line.
Let others regularly rise to Fame,
By painful Steps, acquire a glorious Name;
At once Timoleon opens to our View,
The Man, the Hero, and the Patriot too.
Our Author here, to please the Fair, has shewn
A Hero and a Lover join'd in one;
Nor were the Character indeed compleat,
Had he not sigh'd beneath a Heroin's Feet.
A kind, and constant Turtle we display,
That counts each tedious Minute, Hour and Day;
Her Beauties in her Heroe's Absence fade,
And Clouds of Sorrow o'er her Face are spread.
Yet, though a pow'rful Rival tries each Art,
To rase Timoleon's Image from her Heart;
Still all his Efforts ineffectual prove;
Too weak—oppos'd to Virtue, and to Love.
A Hero and a Lover join'd in one;
Nor were the Character indeed compleat,
Had he not sigh'd beneath a Heroin's Feet.
A kind, and constant Turtle we display,
That counts each tedious Minute, Hour and Day;
Her Beauties in her Heroe's Absence fade,
And Clouds of Sorrow o'er her Face are spread.
Yet, though a pow'rful Rival tries each Art,
To rase Timoleon's Image from her Heart;
Too weak—oppos'd to Virtue, and to Love.
Such Scenes as these could once have forc'd a Tear,
From ev'ry Sympathizing Fair-one here;
But modish Pleasures now their Time engage,
Quadrille, that Trifle of a Trifling Age!
Can the Sex thus whole Days, and Nights employ?
Can they be thus enamour'd of a Toy?
While Otway's Orphan mourns in useless Strains,
And Row's Fair Penitent unheard complains:
Not his Jane Shore affects a Female Soul,
So near, as that tremendous Loss! a Vole.
From ev'ry Sympathizing Fair-one here;
But modish Pleasures now their Time engage,
Quadrille, that Trifle of a Trifling Age!
Can the Sex thus whole Days, and Nights employ?
Can they be thus enamour'd of a Toy?
While Otway's Orphan mourns in useless Strains,
And Row's Fair Penitent unheard complains:
Not his Jane Shore affects a Female Soul,
So near, as that tremendous Loss! a Vole.
Oh could such fatal Truths awaken Shame,
These darling Foibles of the Sex reclaim,
Without a Blush, the Poet then might own,
Beauty and Virtue here had fix'd their Throne.
Pleas'd had confess'd, his Heroin he stole;
Your Charms, too faintly, copy'd through the whole;
A Greek in Name, a Briton in her Soul.
These darling Foibles of the Sex reclaim,
Without a Blush, the Poet then might own,
Beauty and Virtue here had fix'd their Throne.
Pleas'd had confess'd, his Heroin he stole;
Your Charms, too faintly, copy'd through the whole;
A Greek in Name, a Briton in her Soul.
| Timoleon | |