A SONNET.* WEEPING, murmuring, complaining, Yet why impair thy bright perfection, SONG. From the Oratorio of the Captivity. THE wretch condemned with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, SONG. From the Oratorio of the Captivity. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, And turning all the past to pain. *This sonnet is imitated from a French madrigal of St. Pavier. Thou, like the world, the oppress'd oppressing, Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe; In thee must ever find a foe. SONG. Intended to have been sung in the Comedy of She Stoops to Conquer, but omitted, because Mrs. Bulkley, who acted the part of Miss Hardcastle, could not sing. АH me! when shall I marry me? Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me; He, fond youth, that could carry me, Offers to love, but means to deceive me. But I will rally, and combat the ruiner: Not a look, nor a smile, shall my passion discover. She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover. PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE, A TRAGEDY; WRITTEN BY JOSEPH CRADOCK, ESQ., ACTED AT THE SPOKEN BY MR. QUICK. IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling, Forsake the fair, and patiently go simpling: Our bard into the general spirit enters, And fits his little frigate for adventures. With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden, To make an observation on the shore. Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost! Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder: Here ill-condition'd oranges abound And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground: The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear; [Stage. [Tasting them. I heard a hissing - there are serpents here! Oh, there the people are - best keep my distance: Our Captain, gentle natives, craves assistance; Our ship's well stored-in yonder creek we've laid her, His Honor is no mercenary trader. This is his first adventure: lend him aid, And we may chance to drive a thriving trade. His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far, Equally fit for gallantry and war. What! no reply to promises so ample? I'd best step back - and order up a sample. EPILOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF THE SISTERS.* WHAT! five long acts and all to make us wiser! But how? ay, there's the rub! [pausing] I've got my cue: The world's a masquerade! the masquers, you, you, you. [To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery. Lud! what a group the motley scene discloses! False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses! Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em, Patriots in party-color'd suits that ride 'em : *By Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, author of the Female Quixote, Shakspeare Illustrated, etc. It was performed one night only at Covent Garden, in 1769. This lady was praised by Dr. Johnson, as the cleverest female writer of her age. Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon, Flings down her sampler, and takes up the woman; The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure, And tries to kill, ere she 's got power to cure. Thus 't is with all: their chief and constant care Is to seem everything—but what they are. Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on, Who seems t' have robb'd his vizor from the lion; Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade, Looking, as who should say, Damme! who's afraid? [Mimicking. Strip but this vizor off, and, sure I am, the man 's in black! |