rehearsal. If he can dispense with flattery, he is sure at least of sincerity, and even though the annotation be rude, he may rely upon the justness of the comment. Considered in this light, that audience, whose fiat is essential to the poet's claim, whether his object be fame or profit, has surely a right to expect some deference to its opinion, from principles of politeness at least, if not from gratitude. As for the little puny critics, who scatter their peevish strictures in private circles, and scribble at every author who has the eminence of being unconnected with them, as they are usually spleen-swoln from a vain idea of increasing their consequence, there will always be found a petulance and illiberality in their remarks, which should place them as far beneath the notice of a gentleman as their original dulness had sunk them from the level of the most unsuccessful author.

It is not without pleasure that I catch at an opportunity of justifying myself from the charge of intending any national reflection in the character of Sir Lucius O’Trigger. If any gentlemen opposed the piece from that idea, I thank them sincerely for their opposition; and if the condemnation of this comedy (however misconceived the provocation) could have added one spark to the decaying flame of national attachment to the country supposed to be reflected on, I should have been happy in its fate, and might with truth have boasted that it had done more real service in its failure than the successful morality of a thousand stagenovels will ever effect.

It is usual, I believe, to thank the performers in a new play for the exertion of their several abilities. But where (as in this instance) their merit has been so striking and uncontroverted as to call for the warmest and truest applause from a number of judicious audiences, the poet's after-praise comes like the feeble acclamation of a child to close the shouts of a multitude. The conduct, however, of the principals in a theatre cannot be so apparent to the public. I think it therefore but justice to declare, that

from this theatre (the only one I can speak of from experience) those writers who wish to try the dramatic line will meet with that candour and liberal attention which are generally allowed to be better calculated to lead genius into excellence than either the precepts of judgment or the guidance of experience.

THE AUTHOR.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1775

PROLOGUE

By the Author

SPOKEN BY MR. WOODWARD AND MR. QUICK

Enter SERJEANT-AT-LAW, and ATTORNEY following, and giving a paper.

Serj. What's here!-a vile cramp hand! I cannot see Without my spectacles.

Att.

He means his fee.

Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good sir, try again.

[Gives money.

Serj. The scrawl improves! [more] O come,
pretty plain.

Hey! how's this? Dibble !-sure it cannot be !
A poet's brief! a poet and a fee!

Att. Yes, sir! though you without reward, I know,
Would gladly plead the Muse's cause.

Serj.

So!-So!

Att. And if the fee offends, your wrath should fall On me.

Serj. Dear Dibble, no offence at all.

Att. Some sons of Phoebus in the courts we meet,
Serj. And fifty sons of Phoebus in the Fleet!

Att. Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent sprig
Of bays adorns his legal waste of wig.

Serj. Full-bottomed heroes thus, on signs, unfurl A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl !

Yet tell your client, that, in adverse days,

This wig is warmer than a bush of bays.

Att. Do you, then, sir, my client's place supply,
Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tie-

Do you, with all those blushing powers of face,
And wonted bashful hesitating grace,

Rise in the court and flourish on the case.

'tis

[Exit.

Serj. For practice then suppose this brief will show

it,

Me, Serjeant Woodward,-counsel for the poet.

Used to the ground, I know 'tis hard to deal

With this dread court, from whence there's no appeal; 7

No tricking here, to blunt the edge of law,
Or, damn'd in equity, escape by flaw:

But judgment given, your sentence must remain;
No writ of error lies-to Drury-lane!

Yet when so kind you seem, 'tis past dispute
We gain some favour, if not costs of suit.
No spleen is here! I see no hoarded fury;--
I think I never faced a milder jury!

Sad else our plight! where frowns are transportation,
A hiss the gallows, and a groan damnation !
But such the public candour, without fear
My client waives all right of challenge here.
No newsman from our session is dismiss'd,
Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list;
His faults can never hurt another's ease,
His crime, at worst, a bad attempt to please:
Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all,
And by the general voice will stand or fall.

PROLOGUE

By the Author

SPOKEN ON THE TENTH NIGHT, BY MRS. BULKLEY

GRANTED our cause, our suit and trial o'er,
The worthy serjeant need appear no more:
In pleasing I a different client choose,

He served the Poet-I would serve the Muse.
Like him, I'll try to merit your applause,

A female counsel in a female's cause.

Look on this form,1-where humour, quaint and sly, Dimples the cheek, and points the beaming eye; Where gay invention seems to boast its wiles In amorous hint, and half-triumphant smiles; While her light mask or covers satire's strokes, Or hides the conscious blush her wit provokes. Look on her well-does she seem form'd to teach ? Should you expect to hear this lady preach? Is grey experience suited to her youth? Do solemn sentiments become that mouth?

1 Pointing to the figure of Comedy.