XXXIII. PROLOGUE TO "THE KING AND QUEEN."1 UPON THE UNION OF THE TWO COMPANIES IN 1686. 1 SINCE faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of fashion, Their penny scribes take care to inform the nation, How well men thrive in this or that plantation: 2 How Pennsylvania's air agrees with Quakers, And Carolina's with Associators: Both even too good for madmen and for traitors. 3 Truth is, our land with saints is so run o'er, And every age produces such a store, That now there's need of two New-Englands more. 4 What's this, you'll say, to us and our vocation? Only thus much, that we have left our station, And made this theatre our new plantation. 5 The factious natives never could agree; 6 Some say, they no obedience paid of late; But would new fears and jealousies create; Till topsy-turvy they had turn'd the state. 'Two theatrical companies: the Duke's and the King's Houses-both full of every species of abomination-at last united in 1686, and the most profligate poet of the age was fitly chosen to proclaim the banns. 7 Plain sense, without the talent of foretelling, Might guess 'twould end in downright knocks and quelling: For seldom comes there better of rebelling. 8 When men will, needlessly, their freedom barter For lawless power, sometimes they catch a Tartar ; There's a damn'd word that rhymes to this call'd Charter. 9 But, since the victory with us remains, You shall be call'd to twelve in all our gains; 10 Old men shall have good old plays to delight them: And you, fair ladies and gallants, that slight them, We'll treat with good new plays; if our new wits can write them. 11 We'll take no blundering verse, no fustian tumour, No dribbling love, from this or that presumer; No dull fat fool shamm'd on the stage for humour. 12 For, faith, some of them such vile stuff have made, As none but fools or fairies ever play'd; But 'twas, as shopmen say, to force a trade. 13 We've given you tragedies, all sense defying, And singing men, in woful metre dying; This 'tis when heavy lubbers will be flying. 14 All these disasters we well hope to weather; We bring you none of our old lumber hither; Whig poets and Whig sheriffs may hang together. XXXIV. PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, SPOKEN BY MR HART, AT THE ACTING OF 66 THE SILENT WOMAN." WHAT Greece, when learning flourish'd, only knew, Athenian judges, you this day renew; Here too are annual rites to Pallas done, And here poetic prizes lost or won. Methinks I see you, crown'd with olives, sit, And strike a sacred horror from the pit. Where even the best are but by mercy free: A day, which none but Jonson durst have wish'd to see. Here they, who long have known the useful stage, 10 Come to be taught themselves to teach the age. Follies and faults elsewhere by them are shown, Sees virtue, vice, and passions in their cause, And fame from science, not from fortune, draws. 20 So Poetry, which is in Oxford made There haughty dunces, whose unlearned pen 28 40 SPOKEN BY THE SAME. No poor Dutch peasant, wing'd with all his fear, Than we with our poetic train come down, For refuge hither, from the infected town: Heaven, for our sins, this summer has thought fit A French troop first swept all things in its way; For love you heard how amorous asses bray'd, When you, who only can, their scenes have praised, 5 10 20 30 |