University of Virginia Library

Introduction before the Act Drop.

Music—Love and Fortune rise from opposite traps—both have bandages over their eyes—they feel their way to the centre of the stage, where they encounter each other.
Love.
Holloa!

For.
Who's there?

Love.
You stupid body you,
Why can't you look where you are going to?

For.
I look? Alas, 'twould be of little use,—
I am a poor blind woman.

Love.
Blind! the deuce!
Why, I'm a poor blind boy!

For.
I ought to know
That voice.

Love.
I've heard that step before.

For.
(feeling)
A bow!
Nay, then I'm sure—

Love.
(feeling)
What have we here?—a wheel!
(seizing Fortune)
Fortune is in my grasp!

For.
'Tis Love I feel.

Love.
Feel—ha, ha, ha! The truth why try to smother?
(pushes up his bandage)
We can see much too clearly through each other.
You're no more blind than I am, you sly jade.

For.
(peeping under her bandage)
Hush!

Love.
Hush! For what! Of whom are you afraid?
There are no mortals here to see we see!
And if there were, they are more blind than we;
And still would trust the painter and the poet,
Who flatter them at our expense.

For.
I know it.
And therefore punish them by oft bestowing
My prizes on the greatest boobies going.
Genius and I are rarely fellow lodgers,
Poets I've always shunned.

Love.
Except Sam Rogers.

For.
Rogers was rich ere he began to write.
He never wanted me, or else he might

Love.
I only laugh at the conceited elves,
And make them very blindly love themselves;
But sooth to say, although not their intention,
They've served us mightily by their invention,
For when we're called capricious or unkind,
'Tis such a fine excuse—“We are so blind!”

For.
No doubt, but what has brought you here to-day?

Love.
Oh, Love is in the plot of every play.

For.
And Fortune must attend it, good or bad—
If I can make it good, I shall be glad,
For the new lessee's sake. I like new faces.
Besides, you know the proverb says, “Audaces
Fortuna juvat.”

Love.
Oh, yes, 'tis as old
As true that Fortune's partial to the bold.
And he who takes a theatre, I own,
Must be amongst the boldest ever known.

For.
Well, Love resembles Fortune closely there.
“None but the brave,” 'tis said, “deserve the fair.”
So let us see what we can do betwixt us
To aid this scheme in which the Fates have mixed us.
What is this play about?

Love.
I scarcely know.
'Tis a mere sketch in Watteau colours.

For.
Oh!

Love.
A frame to shew some scenery and dresses in.

For.
From what I hear, the author a fine mess is in.
He has no wit.

Love.
If he had I'll engage
You wouldn't catch him writing for the stage.

For.
No poetry.

Love.
That's a good job, Heaven knows!
There's so much poetry that's so like prose.

For.
And not a tittle of imagination.

Love.
Who wants it in these days of adaptation?

For.
It is an adaptation, then?

Love.
Of course.
But then, you know, one man may steal a horse,
And t'other not look over a French leaf,
Without some critic crying out “Stop thief!”
What does it signify? Pooh! let 'em bawl!
“Tantararara!” Cupid cries, “Thieves all!”
It saves a deal of smoky midnight oil;
All my advice is, if you steal, don't spoil.
“Chacun reprend son bien ou il le trouve,”
Shakespeare himself could prig as I could prove

For.
Oh, don't name Shakespeare—of his awful shade
The new lessee is horribly afraid.
Here in such state he lately wore his crown.
His spirit on us fatally may frown.

Love.
What, gentle Shakespeare? pleasant Will, who'd run
Through a whole page to make a shocking pun!
Who shed a glory round things most grotesque?
Who wrote for Grecian clowns the best burlesque?
He look on harmless mirth with angry eyes?
No, no, he is too genial and too wise.
His heart was e'en his matchless mind above—
He nothing owes to Fortune, much to Love!

For.
Granted! so let us do the best we can
To pull through this poor little modern man;
He seems a bard to whom I may shew kindness!
And still preserve my character for blindness.

Love.
And though he may take something from the French,
It is a field on which so many trench.
To act no piece that had a smack of Paris in,
Poor Mr. Harris would find very harrassing.

For.
At blind man's buff, though, we again must play,
For with the public we've to feel our way.
We musn't be too fast.

Love.
Nor yet too slow.

For.
You'll follow Fortune?

Love.
Love does often so.

(Exit Fortune leading Love)
(Act drop rises and discovers