 | Phaedra and Hippolitus |  |
THE PROLOGUE. Spoken by Mr. Wilks.
Long
has a Race of Heroes fill'd the Stage,
That rant by Note, and through the Gamut rage;
In Songs and Airs express their martial Fire,
Combate in Trills, and in a Fenge expire;
While lull'd by Sound, and undisturb'd by Wit,
Calm and Serene you indolently sit;
And from the dull Fatigue of Thinking free,
Hear the facetious Fiddles Repartie:
Our Home-spun Authors must forsake the Field,
And Shakespear to the soft Scarlatti yield.
That rant by Note, and through the Gamut rage;
In Songs and Airs express their martial Fire,
Combate in Trills, and in a Fenge expire;
While lull'd by Sound, and undisturb'd by Wit,
Calm and Serene you indolently sit;
And from the dull Fatigue of Thinking free,
Hear the facetious Fiddles Repartie:
Our Home-spun Authors must forsake the Field,
And Shakespear to the soft Scarlatti yield.
To your new Taste the Poet of this Day
Was by a Friend advis'd to form his Play;
Had Valentini, musically coy,
Shun'd Phædra's Arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd Joy,
It had not mov'd your Wonder to have seen
An Eunuch fly from an enamour'd Queen:
How would it please, should she in English speak
And could Hippolitus reply in Greek?
But he, a Stranger to your Modish Way,
By your old Rules must stand or fall to Day,
And hopes you will your Foreign Taste command,
To bear, for once, with what you understand.
Was by a Friend advis'd to form his Play;
Had Valentini, musically coy,
Shun'd Phædra's Arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd Joy,
It had not mov'd your Wonder to have seen
An Eunuch fly from an enamour'd Queen:
How would it please, should she in English speak
And could Hippolitus reply in Greek?
But he, a Stranger to your Modish Way,
By your old Rules must stand or fall to Day,
And hopes you will your Foreign Taste command,
To bear, for once, with what you understand.
| Phaedra and Hippolitus | |