 | Eugenia |  |
PROLOGUE. Written and spoken by Mr. GARRICK.
To
damn, or not—that is the Question now,
Whether 'tis best to deck the Poet's Brow;
With Hands and Hearts unanimous befriend him,
Or take up Arms, and by opposing end him—?
But hold, before you give the fatal Word,
I beg that I, as Council may be heard,
And what few Council ever yet have done,
I'll take no Bribe, and yet plead Pro and Con.
First for the Town and Us—I see some Danger,
Should you too kindly treat this reverend Stranger;
If such good Folks, these Wits of graver Sort,
Should here usurp a Right to spoil your Sport;
And curb our Stage so wanton, bold and free!
To the strict Limits of their Purity;
Should dare in Theatres reform Abuses,
And turn our Actresses to pious Uses!
Farewell the joyous Spirit-stirring Scene!
Farewell the—the—you guess the Thing I mean!
If this wise Scheme, so sober and so new!
Should pass with us, would it go down with you?
Should we so often see your well-known Faces?
Or would the Ladies send so fast for Places?—
Whether 'tis best to deck the Poet's Brow;
With Hands and Hearts unanimous befriend him,
Or take up Arms, and by opposing end him—?
But hold, before you give the fatal Word,
I beg that I, as Council may be heard,
And what few Council ever yet have done,
I'll take no Bribe, and yet plead Pro and Con.
First for the Town and Us—I see some Danger,
Should you too kindly treat this reverend Stranger;
If such good Folks, these Wits of graver Sort,
Should here usurp a Right to spoil your Sport;
And curb our Stage so wanton, bold and free!
To the strict Limits of their Purity;
Should dare in Theatres reform Abuses,
And turn our Actresses to pious Uses!
Farewell the joyous Spirit-stirring Scene!
Farewell the—the—you guess the Thing I mean!
If this wise Scheme, so sober and so new!
Should pass with us, would it go down with you?
Should we so often see your well-known Faces?
Or would the Ladies send so fast for Places?—
Now for the Author—His poetic Brat
Throughout the Town occasions various Chat;
What say the Snarlers?—'Tis a French Translation.
That we deny, but plead an Imitation,
Such as we hope will please a free-born Nation.
His Muse, tho' much too grave to dress or dance,
For some Materials took a Trip to France;
She owns the Debt, nor thinks she shall appear,
Like our spruce Youths, the worse for going there:
Tho' she has dealt before in sportive Song,
This is her first Stage-Flight, and t'would be wrong,
Nay poaching too, to kill your Bards too young.
Poets, like Foxes, make best Sport, when old,
The Chase is good, when both are hard and bold;
Do you, like other Sportsmen then, take heed,
If you destroy the Whelps, you spoil the Breed;
Let him write on, acquire some little Fame,
Then hunt him, Critics, he'll be noble Game.
Throughout the Town occasions various Chat;
What say the Snarlers?—'Tis a French Translation.
That we deny, but plead an Imitation,
Such as we hope will please a free-born Nation.
His Muse, tho' much too grave to dress or dance,
For some Materials took a Trip to France;
She owns the Debt, nor thinks she shall appear,
Like our spruce Youths, the worse for going there:
Tho' she has dealt before in sportive Song,
This is her first Stage-Flight, and t'would be wrong,
Nay poaching too, to kill your Bards too young.
Poets, like Foxes, make best Sport, when old,
The Chase is good, when both are hard and bold;
Do you, like other Sportsmen then, take heed,
If you destroy the Whelps, you spoil the Breed;
Let him write on, acquire some little Fame,
Then hunt him, Critics, he'll be noble Game.
| Eugenia | |