OCCASIONAL ADDRESS,
ON THE REVIVAL OF THIS PLAY.
SPOKEN BY MR. BARTLEY.
STILL in the drama's ancient round we dwell;
And MASSINGER is master of the spell;
Whilst SHAKSPEARE, rising midst the sculptur'd dead,
Beams like the genius of the sacred shade;
Whilst all have seen where JONSON's ashes lie,
And point the moral of mortality;
Nor monumental urn, nor image, shows
Where the last relics of our bard repose:
Yet shall he rest secure of fame to come;
Your praise, his epitaph-this vault, his tomb.
Here FLETCHER too, and FARQUHAR, now behold
Those smiles reviv'd that wak'd their wit of old.
In its own shrine each honour'd bust replac'd,
And British genius crown'd by British taste.
But not your smile returning life imparts
To one alone of all the sister arts:
Here too (for gratitude may boast her zeal)
The living warmth our glowing bosoms feel.
Then let your kindness still improve our skill,
And lead from triumph on to triumph still.
Ye that have thrill'd beneath the smile or frown,
When Richard courts a queen, or wins a crown;
Ye that have throbb'd at all Othello's woes,
His jealous madness, and repentant throes;
And ye who nightly swell the throng, to share
The villain's daring guilt and last despair;
Partake our mimic transports now, and prove
The double tyranny of hate and love.
And if the bard, in every look express'd,
Shall kindle all the passions of the breast;
If critics, kindly partial, feel they view
The portraits MASSINGER'S own pencil drew,
Oh! let your favour then divide the praise,
And blend the actor's with the poet's bays.
Guards, Servants, and Attendants.
SCENE-For the first and second Acts, in MILAN; during part of the third, in the Imperial Camp near PAVIA; the rest of the Play, in MILAN and its Neighbourhood.
SCENE I. An outer Room in the Castle. Enter GRACCHO, JULIO, and GIOVANNI, with
AKE every man his flagon; give the oath To all you meet; I am this day the state drunkard, I am sure against my will; and if you find A man at en that's sober, he's a traitor, And, in my name, arrest him.
Julio. Tery good, sir;
But say he be a sexton?"
Grac. f the bells
Ring outof tune, as if the streets were burning,
And he cy, ""Tis rare music!" bid him sleep;
"Tis a sign he has ta'en his liquor: and if you meet
An office preaching of sobriety,
Unless le read it in Geneva spirit,
Lay him by the heels.
Julio But think you 'tis a fault
To be bund sober?
Gra. It is capital treason;
Or, if you mitigate it, let such pay
Forty crowns to the poor; but give a pension
To all the magistrates you find singing catches,
Or their wives dancing; for the courtiers reeling,
And the duke himself, I dare not say distemper'd,
But kind, and in his tottering chair carousing,
They do the country service.
And so, dear friends, co-partners in my travails,
Drink hard; and let the health run through the city,
Until it reel again, and with me cry,
Long live the dutchess!"
Enter TIBERIO and STEPHANO.
Julio. Here are two lords! what think you? Shall we give the oath to them?
Grac. Fie! no; I know them:
You need not swear them; your lord, by his patent, Stands bound to take his rouse. Long live the dutchess! [Exeunt Graccho, Julio, and Giovanni.
Steph. The cause of this? but yesterday the court Wore the sad livery of distrust and fear; No smile, not in a buffoon, to be seen, Or common jesler: the great duke himself Had sorrow in his face; which, waited on By his mother, sister, and his fairest dutches, Dispersed a silent mourning through all Mikn; As if some great blow had been given the sate, Or were at least expected.
I know as you are noble, you are honest,
And capable of secrets of more weight
Than now I shall deliver.. If that Sforza,
The present duke (though his whole life hathbeen
But one continual pilgrimage through danger,
Affrights, and horrors, which his fortune, guided
By his strong judgment, still hath overcome),
Appears now shaken, it deserves no wonder:
All that his youth hath labour'd for, the harves
Sown by his industry ready to be reap'd too,
Being now at stake; and all his hopes confirm'd
Or lost for ever.
Steph. I know no such hazard:
His guards are strong and sure, and though war rages In most parts of our western world, there is
No enemy near us.
Tib. Dangers that we see
To threaten ruin, are with ease prevented;
But those strike deadly that come unexpected.
The wars so long continued between
The emperor Charles, and Francis, the French king,
Have interest'd, in either's cause, the most
Of the Italian princes; among which, Sforza,
As one of greatest power, was sought by both;
But with assurance, having one his friend,
The other lived his enemy.
Steph. 'Tis true;
And 'twas a doubtful choice.
Tib. But he, well knowing
And hating too, it seems, the Spanish pride,
Lent his assistance to the king of France;
Which hath so far incens'd the emperor,
That all his hopes and honours are embark'd
With his great patron's fortune.
Steph. Which stands fair,
For aught I yet can hear.
Tib. But should it change,
The duke's undone. They have drawn to the field
Two royal armies, full of fiery youth,
Of equal spirit to dare, and power to do;
So near intrench'd, that 'tis beyond all hope
Of human counsel they e'er can be severed,
Until it be determin'd by the sword
Who hath the better cause; for the success
Concludes the victor innocent, and the vanquish'd
Most miserably guilty.
In such a time, when every knee should bend
For the success and safety of his person,
Are these loud triumphs in my weak opinion,
They are unseasonable.
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