PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MR. BARRY.

BRITONS, to-night, in native pomp we come,
True heroes all, from virtuous, ancient Rome;
In those far distant times, when Romans knew
The sweets of guarded liberty, like you;

And, safe from ills which force or faction brings,
Saw freedom reign beneath the smile of kings.

Yet from such times, and such plain chiefs as these,
What can we frame a polish'd age to please?
Say, can you listen to the artless woes

Of an old tale, which ev'ry school-boy knows;
Where to your hearts alone the scenes apply;
No merit theirs but pure simplicity.

Our bard has play'd a most advent'rous part,
And turn'd upon himself the critic's art:
Stripp'd each luxuriant plume from fancy's wings,
And torn up similes from vulgar things:
Nay, ev'n each moral, sentimental stroke,
Where not the character but poet spoke,
He lopp'd, as foreign to his chaste design,
Nor spar'd an useless, though a golden line.

These are his arts; if these cannot atone
For all those nameless errors yet unknown,
If, shunning faults which nobler bards commit,
He wants the force to strike th' attentive pit,
Be just, and tell him so; he asks advice,
Willing to learn, and would not ask it twice.
Your kind applause may bid him write-beware!
Or kinder censure teach him to forbear.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

As originally acted at Drury Lane, 1750.

Tullus Hostilius
Horatius

Publius Horatius.

Valerius

Caius .

Volscinius.

Mr. Sowdon.

The original Music composed by Dr. Boyce.-The vocal parts originally performed by Mr. Beard, Mr. Norris, Miss Cole, &c.

SCENE I. A Room in HORATIUS's House. A Soldier crosses the Stage, HORATIA following. Horatia. STAY, soldier. As you parted from my father,

Something I overheard of near concern,

But all imperfectly. Said you not Alba
Was on the brink of fate, and Rome determin'd
This day to crush her haughty rival's power,

Or perish in th' attempt?

Sold. "Twas so resolv'd

This morning, lady, ere I left the camp.

Our heroes are tir'd out with ling'ring war,

And half-unmeaning fight.

Horatia. Then this day

Is fix'd for death or conquest? [He bows] To me death, Whoever conquers! Aside] I detain you, sir.

Commend me to my brothers; say, I wish

But wherefore should I wish? The gods will crown
Their virtues with the just success they merit-
Yet let me ask you, sir-

Sold. My duty, lady,

Commands me hence. Ere this they have engag'd;
And conquest's self would lose its charms to me,
Should I not share the danger.

As the Soldier goes out, enter VALERIA, who looks first on the Soldier, and then on HORATIA.

Valeria. My dear Horatia, wherefore wilt thou court The means to be unhappy? Still inquiring, Still more to be undone. I heard it too; And flew to find thee, ere the fatal news

Had hurt thy quiet, that thou might'st have learn'd it
From a friend's tongue, and dress'd in gentler terms.
Horatia. Oh, I am lost, Valeria! lost to virtue.
Ev'n while my country's fate, the fate of Rome,
Hangs on the conqu'ror's sword, this breast can feel
A softer passion, and divide its cares.

Alba to me is Rome. Wouldst thou believe it?
I would have sent, by him thou saw'st departing,
Kind wishes to my brothers; but my tongue
Deny'd its office, and this rebel heart

Ev'n dreaded their success. Oh, Curiatius!
Why art thou there, or why an enemy!

Valeria. Forbear this self-reproach; he is thy hus-
band,

And who can blame thy fears? If fortune make him
Awhile thy country's foe, she cannot cancel
Vows register'd above. What though the priest
Had not confirm'd it at the sacred altar;
Yet were your hearts united, and that union
Approv'd by each consenting parent's choice.
Your brothers lov'd him as a friend, a brother;
And all the ties of kindred pleaded for him,
And still must plead, whate'er our heroes teach us
Of patriot strength. Our country may demand
We should be wretched, and we must obey;
But never can require us not to feel
That we are miserable: nature there
Will give the lie to virtue.

Horatia. True; yet sure