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PROLOGUE. By the Author of Eurydice. Spoken by Mr. Quin.
When
this decisive Night, at length, appears,
The Night of every Author's Hopes and Fears;
What Shifts, to bribe Applause, poor Poets try?
In all the Forms of Wit they court and lye:
These meanly beg it, as an Alms; and Those,
By boastful Bluster, dazzle and impose.
The Night of every Author's Hopes and Fears;
What Shifts, to bribe Applause, poor Poets try?
In all the Forms of Wit they court and lye:
These meanly beg it, as an Alms; and Those,
By boastful Bluster, dazzle and impose.
Nor poorly fearful, nor securely vain;
Ours would, by honest Ways, that Grace obtain:
Would, as a Free-born Wit, be fairly try'd:
And then—let Truth and Candour, fair, decide.
He courts no Friend, who blindly comes to praise;
He dreads no Foe—but whom his Faults may raise.
Ours would, by honest Ways, that Grace obtain:
Would, as a Free-born Wit, be fairly try'd:
And then—let Truth and Candour, fair, decide.
He courts no Friend, who blindly comes to praise;
He dreads no Foe—but whom his Faults may raise.
Indulge a generous Pride, that bids him own,
He aims to please, by noble Means, alone:
By what may win the Judgment, wake the Heart,
Inspiring Nature, and directing Art:
By Scenes, so wrought, so rais'd, as may command
Applause, more from the Head, than from the Hand.
He aims to please, by noble Means, alone:
By what may win the Judgment, wake the Heart,
Inspiring Nature, and directing Art:
By Scenes, so wrought, so rais'd, as may command
Applause, more from the Head, than from the Hand.
Important is the Moral we wou'd teach:
(Oh may this Island practise what we preach!)
Vice, in its first Approach, with Care to shun;
The Wretch, who once engages, is undone.
Crimes lead to greater Crimes, and link so streight,
What first was Accident, at last is Fate:
Th'unhappy Servant sinks into a Slave;
And Virtue's last sad Strugglings cannot save.
(Oh may this Island practise what we preach!)
Vice, in its first Approach, with Care to shun;
The Wretch, who once engages, is undone.
Crimes lead to greater Crimes, and link so streight,
What first was Accident, at last is Fate:
Th'unhappy Servant sinks into a Slave;
And Virtue's last sad Strugglings cannot save.
“As such our fair Attempt, we hope to see
“Our Judges,—here at least,—from Influence free;
“One Place,—unbiass'd yet by Party-Rage,—
“Where only Honour votes,—the British Stage.
“We ask for Justice, for Indulgence sue:
“Our last best Licence must proceed from you.
“Our Judges,—here at least,—from Influence free;
“One Place,—unbiass'd yet by Party-Rage,—
“Where only Honour votes,—the British Stage.
“We ask for Justice, for Indulgence sue:
“Our last best Licence must proceed from you.
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