against my prayers, had I the will to pray. I cannot bear it. Sure 'tis the worst of torments to behold others enjoy that bliss, which we must never taste. Officer. The utmost limit of your time is expired. Mill. Encompassed with horror, whither must I go? I would not live-nor die- -That I could cease to be—or ne'er had been! Barn. Since peace and comfort are denied her here, may she find mercy where she least expects it, and this be all her hell! From our example may all be taught to fly the first approach of vice : but if o'ertaken, By strong temptation, weakness, or surprise, EPILOGUE. BY COLLEY CIBBER.-SPOKEN BY MARIA. SINCE fate has robb'd me of the hapless youth, Maids, in my case, should look before they leap. Suppose I search the sober gallery?-No; There's none but 'prentices, and cuckolds all-a row; And these, I doubt, are those that make them so. [Pointing to the boxes. 'Tis very well, enjoy the jest:-but you, Fine powder'd sparks,-nay, I am told 'tis true,Your happy spouses-can make cuckolds too. "Twixt you and them the difference this perhaps : The cit's ashamed whene'er his duck he traps; But you, when madam's tripping, let her fall, Cock up your hats, and take no shame at all. What if some favour'd poet I could meet, Whose love would lay his laurels at my feet? No-painted passions real love abhorsHis flame would prove the suit of creditors. Not to detain you then with longer pause, In short, my heart to his conclusion draws; I yield it to the hand that's loudest in applause. FATAL CURIOSITY. BY LILLO. PROLOGUE. BY HENRY FIELDING. THE Tragic Music has long forgot to please, With Shakespeare's nature and with Fletcher's ease: No passion mov'd, through five long acts you sit, Charm'd with the poet's language or his wit. Fine things are said, no matter whence they fall; Each single character might speak them all. But from this modern fashionable way, To-night our author begs your leave to stray. No fustian hero rages here to-night; No armies fall to fix a tyrant's right: From lower life we draw our scene's distress: -Let not your equals move your pity less! Virtue distrest in humble state support; Though to our scenes no royal robes belong, SCENE I.-WILMOT's House. Old WILMOT alone. ACT I. Of wind last night. O. Wilm. It was a dreadful one. Posterity perhaps may do thee justice, Much sooner paid, have their reward in hand, Rand. Nay, 'tis certain, That virtue ne'er appears so like itself, Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, towards O. Wilm. She is gone to visit Charlotte. She In the soft bosom of that gentle maid Whom we shall ne'er see more, the rich and great, Who own her charms, and sigh to make her happy! And blast her youth with our contagious woe! Rand. Some found it so. A noble ship from Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would India, Entering the harbour, run upon a rock, O. Wilm. What became of those on board her? Rand. Some few are sav'd, but much the greater part, 'Tis thought, are perish'd. O. Wilm. They are past the fear Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore: These, who escaped, are still expos'd to both. Rand. But I've heard news, much stranger than this shipwreck Here in Cornwall. The brave Sir Walter Being arriv'd at Plymouth from Guiana, I was a very child, when first you took me, O. Wilm. Not unlikely; His martial genius does not suit the times. There's now no insolence that Spain can offer, But, to the shame of this pacific reign, Poor England must submit to.-Gallant man! O. Wilm. That cannot be revived, Rand. The whole of my intent O. Wilm. No more of that: Thou hast serv'd me longer since Without reward; so that account is balanced, Or rather I'm thy debtor. I remember, me. Rand. Nay, I beseech you, sir! O. Wilm. With my distress, In perfect contradiction to the world, Rand. Heaven forbid ! Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity?— O. Wilm. What! canst thou feed on air? Rand. Rather than leave you thus, I'll beg my bread, and live on others' bounty, O. Wilm. Down, down my swelling heart, Rand. 'Tis true, I'm young, Which I can ne'er return-And who art thou, Rand. Be not offended, sir, and I will go. [Going. O. Wilm. Farewell!-Stay! As thou art yet a stranger to the world, Of which, alas! I've had too much experience, I should, methinks, before we part, bestow A little counsel on thee.-Dry thy eyes: If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no farther. Dost thou aspire to greatness, or to wealth? Quit books, and the unprofitable search Of wisdom there, and study human kind: No science will avail thee without that; But that obtain'd, thou need'st not any other. This will instruct thee to conceal thy views, And wear the face of probity and honour, Till thou hast gain'd thy end: which must be ever Thy own advantage, at that man's expence, Who shall be weak enough to think thee honest. Suppose I have renounced them : I have passions, And love thee still; therefore would have thee think, The world is all a scene of deep deceit, Is this the man I thought so wise and just? SCENE II-CHARLOTTE'S House. Enter CHARLOTTE and MARIA. Char. What terror and amazement must they feel, Who die by shipwreck! Mar. 'Tis a dreadful thought! Char. Aye! is it not, Maria?-To descend, Living and conscious, to the watery tomb!Alas! had we no sorrows of our own, The frequent instances of others' woe Must give a generous mind a world of pain. But you forget you promis'd me to sing. Though cheerfulness and I have long been stran Passing a narrow brook, was drowned there, And perished in her sight. SONG. Mar. Cease, cease, heart-easing tears ! Tears are for lighter woes; Endless despair! Maid e'er deplored. [CHARLOTTE finds a letter. Char. What's this?-A letter superscribed to me! None could convey it here but you, Maria. Mar. Why should it break your peace, to hear the sighs Of honourable love? This letter is▬▬▬▬▬ Char. No matter whence: return it back unopened: I have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot, Nor would have any. Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead; Or, living, dead to you. Char. I'll not despair: Patience shall cherish hope; Nor wrong his honour by unjust suspicion. Know, thou incessant foe to my repose, Can witness, they were made without reserve; By accident or absence, time or death. By the least favour, though 'twere but a look, To the low level of the common herd, Char. By scorning, we provoke them to contempt, And thus offend, and suffer in our turns. Agn. No, I scorn them yet! But there's no end of suffering: Who can say, Their sorrows are complete? My wretched hus The highest happiness, and deepest woe, Mar. And did your vows oblige you to sup- With all the sharp and bitter aggravations Of such a vast transition-Such a fall And would do any thing, but die, to end it; Char. We must not chuse, but strive to bear our lot Without reproach, or guilt. By one rash act Of desperation, we may overthrow |