University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

PRELUDE.
A Dressing-Room in the Theatre.
Doctor Plunder and Roscius secundus discovered.
Doctor Plunder.

I have founded my piece upon two ideas;—
the first, a custom among the Egyptians, who
publicly tried the conduct of their great men
after death, and then gave judgment on their merit.
Secondly, a custom of the Greeks and Romans,
who pronounced orations over the bodies
of their deceased heroes, or over their ashes when
inurned.

Roscius secundus.

I fear few in these days would pass the Egyptian
ordeal immaculate, or merit the Greek or Roman
oration. But I am surprized, Doctor Plunder,
that you, who have suffered so severely for traducing
Master Punch, while living, should now
become his Panegyrist; particularly as his executors
have no pecuniary demands upon you. But
having shifted off this mortal coil, and become
defunct, like Zanga's revenge, I suppose
your enmity expired with your foe. You war not
with the dust;—a lion preys not upon carcases.

Doctor Plunder.

Master Roscius secundus, you have hit the
right nail on the head. I hated Punch while living;
but now he is dead, I am determined to
be one of his most zealous eulogists. Our dislike
arose from that mutual antipathy which naturally
exists, not only between dramatic authors, but
every class of writers, whether coiners, cutters,
clippers, or counterfeiters, of literature.

Roscius secundus.

Your sentiments, Doctor, exactly coincide with
mine. His failings all lie buried in the grave,
and all his good comes rushing on my soul. Never
will I again mimic his peculiarities with buffoon
drollery. But do you not think the plagiarism
of our piece will meet the disapprobation of
the audience?

Doctor Plunder.

By no means: I have only stolen from Shakespeare;
and Poets set up a prescriptive right to
purloin from him. I am convinced from experience,
that Plagiarism meets as much success as
Originality. The addition of a few songs to a
Tragedy, makes an excellent Masque; and airs judiciously
introduced into a Cut Comedy, answers
all the intents, and every end of an Original
Opera. I know how to secure the approbation of
the public by crook, or by Hooke.

Roscius secundus.

I will say that for you, Doctor, you do not descend
to petty larceny; your robberies are open
and bold.

Doctor Plunder.

I plead guilty to your arraignment; and the
Prologue which you speak to this night's entertainment,
I have taken, partly from old Jack Dryden,
and partly from Alic Pope. I am like Sir
Roger de Coverley's chaplain, who always preached
from printed sermons, when unable to compose
himself. In dull moods I make bold with
the works of others.

Roscius secundus.

But do you not think, Doctor, that the Monody
is rather too highly elevated in the hyperbole? In
praising your hero, you have made mere cyphers
of every other puppet. Like a poet laureat, you

have centered every virtue, merit, and qualification,
in an individual; which is out-heroding
Herod, and an insult upon common-sense and modesty.
[Bell rings.]
But hark! the prompter's
bell rings.

Doctor Plunder.

Adieu! I will retire, and write a few puffs for
the newspapers: I have precedent for puffing my
Monody in the public prints.

Roscius secundus.

And in your puffs be sure to remember me, as
I have not leisure to puff myself. I assure you,
Doctor, puffing is often a means of procuring a
good engagement; and if you give a critique
upon this piece before it is printed, I expect to
shine forth in the Critical Review; or, if it be
published, to have my person delineated by Roberts,
and stuck in the window of Bell's Circulating
Library.

[Exeunt.