4 FIRST PROLOGUE. BY THE AUTHOR. cent sprig Of bays adorns his legal waste of wig. Serj. Full-bottom'd heroes thus, on signs, unfurl A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl! Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tie- And wonted bashful hesitating grace, Rise in the court, and flourish on the case. [Exit. Serj. For practice then suppose-this brief will show itMe, 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; No tricking here, to blunt the edge oflaw, 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 waves allright of challengehere. No newsman from our session is dismiss'd, Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list; Ilis 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. The play being withdrawn after the first night's representation, upon its second appearance the lines from 'Hey! how's this?' to 'no offence at all,' were omitted, and the following inserted: 'How's this! the poet's brief again! O ho! 'Cast, I suppose? Att. O pardon me No-No 'We found the court, o'erlooking stricter laws, 'Indulgent to the merits of the cause; 'By judges mild, unused to harsh denial, 'A rule was granted for another trial. 'Serj. Then hark'ee, Dibble, did you mend your pleadings; 'Errors, no few, we've found in our proceedings. "Att. Come, courage, sir, we did amend our plea, 'Hence your new brief, and this refreshing fee'. 5 A SECOND PROLOGUE. BY THE AUTHOR. GRANTED our cause, our suit and trial [The sentimental Muse! Her emblems o'er, view, The worthy Serjeant need appear no The Pilgrim's Progress,and a sprig ofrue! View her-too chaste to look like flesh and blood Primly portray'd on emblematic wood! There fix'd in usurpation should she stand, She'll snatch the dagger from her sister's hand: And having made her vot❜ries weep a flood, Good heaven! she'll end her comedies in blood Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown! Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down; While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the Fair Virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask; And moral Truth disdains the trickster's mask. For here their fav'rite stands**, whose brow, severe To charm the fancy and yet reach the And sad, claims Youth's respect, and Pi heart- ty's tear; Must we displace her? And instead ad- Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth vance creates, The Goddess of the woful countenance - Can point a poniard at theGuilt she hates. * Pointing to the figure of Comedy. ** Pointing to Tragedy. BY THE AUTHOR. Early from radiant Love's impartial light Steals one small spark to cheer his world of night: Dear spark! that oft through winter's chilling woes Is all the warmth his little cottage knows! The wand'ring Tar, who not for years has press'd The widow'd partner of his day of rest, On the cold deck, far from her arms removed, Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved; And while around the cadence rude is blown, The boatswain whistles in a softer tone. The Soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil, Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile; But ere the battle should he list' her cries, The lover trembles-and the hero dies! That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear, Convinced at night, the vanquish'd vic-Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear! But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging tor says, Ah, Kate! you women have such coaxing ways! few, Who give to Beauty only Beauty's due, Though friends to Love-ye view with deep regret The jolly Toper chides each tardy blade, pers swim, conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete, And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim! Till polish'd Wit more lasting charms Nay, I have heard that Statesmen great and wise disclose, And Judgment fix the darts which Beauty throws! - In female breasts did sense and merit ACT I. SCENE I. A Street in BATH. COACHMAN crosses the stage. Enter Coach. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young master? Odd! Sir Anthony will stare to see the captain here! Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now. Fag. WHAT! Thomas! Sure 'tis Coach. Why sure! he?-What! Thomas! Thomas! Coach. Hey!-Odd's life! Mr, Fag! -give us your hand, my old fellow servant. Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas:I'm devilish glad to see you, my lad: why, my prince of charioteers, you look as hearty! -but who the deuce thought of seeing you in Bath? Coach. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all come. Fag. Indeed! Coach. Ay! master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a visit; so he'd a mind to gi't the slip, and whip! we were all off at an hour's warning. Fag. Ay, ay! hasty in every thing, or it would not be Sir Anthony Absolute! Fag. At present I am employed by Ensign Beverley. Coach. I doubt, Mr. Fag, you ha'n't changed for the better. Fag. You'll be secret, Thomas? seen my master-for we got acquainted with miss while on a visit in Gloucestershire. Fag. Why then the cause of all this is-Love, Love, Thomas, who (as you may get read to you) has been a masquerader ever since the days of-But pray, Mr. Fag, what kind of a Jupiter. Coach. Well-I wish they were once harnessed together in matrimony. · I ha' heard a here's a mort o'merry place is this Bath? Coach. Ay, ay; I guess'd there deal of it was a lady in the case: but pray, making, hey? why does your master pass only for Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty ensign? now if he had shamm'd well-'tis a good lounge; in the morngeneral indeed ing we go to the pump-room(though Fag. Ah! Thomas, there lies the mys- neither my master nor I drink the tery o'the matter. Hark'ee, Thomas, waters); after breakfast we saunter my master is in love with a lady of on the parades, or play a game at bila very singular taste: a lady who liards; at night we dance; but d-n likes him better as a half-pay ensign the place, I'm tired ofit: their regular than if she knew he was son and heir hours stupefy me-not a fiddle nor a to Sir Anthony Absolute, a baronet card after eleven! - however, Mr. of three thousand a year. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it Coach. That is an odd taste indeed! up a little in private parties; but has she got the stuff, Mr. Fag? introduce you there, Thomas-you'll is she rich, hey? like him much. I'll Fag. Rich! why, Ibelieve she owns half the stocks! Z-ds! Thomas, she could pay the national debt as easily as I could my washerwoman!-She Fag. I had forgot. Coach. Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne - you know his master is to marry Madam Julia. But, Thomas, has a lap-dog that eats out of gold, you must polish a little—indeed you she feeds her parrot with small must Here now this wig! pearls, and all her thread-papers what the devil do you do with a are made of banknotes! wig, Thomas ?- none of the London Coach. Bravo, faith!-Odd! I war-whips of any degree of ton wear wigs rant she has a set of thousands at least: but does she draw kindly with the captain? Fag. As fond as pigeons. Coach. May one hear her name? Fag. Miss Lydia Languish. now. Coach. More's the pity! more's the pity, Isay-Odd's life! when I heard how the lawyers and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought how But 'twould go next: Odd rabbit it! there is an old tough aunt in the way; when the fashion had got foot on the -though, by the by, she has never Bar, I guess'd 'twould mount to the |