 | Philaster |  |
PROLOGUE. Written by GEORGE COLMAN. Spoken by Mr. KING.
While
modern Tragedy, by Rule exact,
Spins out a thin-wrought Fable, Act by Act,
We dare to bring you one of those bold Plays
Wrote by rough English Wits in former Days;
Beaumont and Fletcher! those Twin Stars, that run
Their glorious Course round Shakespeare's golden Sun;
Or when Philaster Hamlet's Place supplied,
Or Bessus walk'd the Stage by Falstaff's Side.
Their Souls, well pair'd, shot Fire in mingled Rays,
Their Hands together twin'd the social Bays,
Till Fashion drove, in a refining Age,
Virtue from Court, and Nature from the Stage.
Then Nonsense, in Heroicks, seem'd sublime;
Kings rav'd in Couplets, and Maids sigh'd in Rhime.
Next, prim, and trim, and delicate, and chaste,
A Hash from Greece and France, came Modern Taste.
Cold are her Sons, and so afraid of dealing
In Rant and Fustian, they ne'er rise to Feeling.
O say, ye Bards of Phlegm, say, where's the Name
That can with Fletcher urge a rival Claim?
Say, where's the Poet, train'd in pedant Schools,
Equal to Shakespeare, who o'erleapt all Rules?
Spins out a thin-wrought Fable, Act by Act,
We dare to bring you one of those bold Plays
Wrote by rough English Wits in former Days;
Beaumont and Fletcher! those Twin Stars, that run
Their glorious Course round Shakespeare's golden Sun;
Or when Philaster Hamlet's Place supplied,
Or Bessus walk'd the Stage by Falstaff's Side.
Their Souls, well pair'd, shot Fire in mingled Rays,
Their Hands together twin'd the social Bays,
Till Fashion drove, in a refining Age,
Virtue from Court, and Nature from the Stage.
Then Nonsense, in Heroicks, seem'd sublime;
Kings rav'd in Couplets, and Maids sigh'd in Rhime.
Next, prim, and trim, and delicate, and chaste,
A Hash from Greece and France, came Modern Taste.
Cold are her Sons, and so afraid of dealing
In Rant and Fustian, they ne'er rise to Feeling.
O say, ye Bards of Phlegm, say, where's the Name
That can with Fletcher urge a rival Claim?
Say, where's the Poet, train'd in pedant Schools,
Equal to Shakespeare, who o'erleapt all Rules?
Thus of our Bards we boldly speak our Mind;
A harder Task, alas, remains behind:
To-night, as yet by publick Eyes unseen,
A raw, unpractis'd Novice fills the Scene.
Bred in the City, his theatrick Star
Brings him at length on this Side Temple-Bar;
Smit with the Muse, the Ledger he forgot,
And when he wrote his Name, he made a Blot.
Him while perplexing Hopes and Fears embarrass,
Skulking (like Hamlet's Rat) behind the Arras,
Me a dramatick Fellow-feeling draws,
Without a Fee, to plead a Brother's Cause.
Genius is rare; and while our Great Comptroller,
No more a Manager, turns arrant Stroller,
Let new Adventurers your Care engage,
And nurse the Infant Saplings of the Stage!
A harder Task, alas, remains behind:
To-night, as yet by publick Eyes unseen,
A raw, unpractis'd Novice fills the Scene.
Bred in the City, his theatrick Star
Brings him at length on this Side Temple-Bar;
Smit with the Muse, the Ledger he forgot,
And when he wrote his Name, he made a Blot.
Him while perplexing Hopes and Fears embarrass,
Skulking (like Hamlet's Rat) behind the Arras,
Me a dramatick Fellow-feeling draws,
Without a Fee, to plead a Brother's Cause.
Genius is rare; and while our Great Comptroller,
No more a Manager, turns arrant Stroller,
Let new Adventurers your Care engage,
And nurse the Infant Saplings of the Stage!
| Philaster | |