nfe, appetite, and all, give way to fashion: hate as much as he a turtle-feaft, it, till the prefent turtle-rage is ceas'd, i ride a hundred miles to make myself a beast.

have no ears; yet operas I adore! Iways prepar'd to die-to fleep-no more! he ladies too were carp'd at, and their drefs, : wants them all ruff'd up like good queen Befs!

hey are, forfooth, too much expos'd and free:

ere more expos'd, no ill effects I fee, r more or lefs, 'tis all the fame to me, or gaming too was maul'd among the reft, at precious cordial to a high-life breaft! enthoughts arife, I always game or drink, English gentleman fhould never think

e reafon's plain, which ev'ry foul might hit on

at trims a Frenchman, overfets a Briton, us reflection breeds a fober fadness, ich always ends in politics or madness: erefore now propofe, by your command, at tragedies no more thall cloud this land; d o'er your Shakspeares to the fons of France,

them grow grave-let us begin to dance! ith your gloomyfcenes to foreign climes, erve alone, to blefs thefe golden times, arce or two--and Woodward's pantomimes.

52. Occafional Prologue to the Mafk of Britan ia; 1755 Written and spoken by Mr. Garrick, the Character of a Sailor,fuddled,and talking himself.

rs, finging, "How pleafant a failor's life paffes !"

7FLL! if thou art, my boy,a little mellow, A failor, half-feas o'er-'s a pretty fellow.

Whene'er he thuffles we fhould always cut. I'll to 'em, faith-Avaft-before I goHave I not promis'd Sall to fee the show? Pulls out a play-bill.

From this fame paper we fhall understand What work's to-night-I read your printed hand.

First let's refresh a bit-for, 'faith, I need itI'll take one fugar-plum-[takes fome tobacco] and then I'll read it.

[He reads the play-bill of Zara, which was acted that evening. "At the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane"Will be prefen-ta-ted a tragedy called

Sarah-"

at cheer, ho? Do I carry too much fail?

[He faggers forward, and then flops. fofaly tho'-the vellel feems to heeldy! ny boy-the muft not thew her keel. now,thus ballafted-what courfe to fteer? III again to fea-and bang Mounteer? tay on fhore, and toy with Sall and Sue? t love'em, boy? By this right hand, I do! ell-rigg'd girl is furely mott inviting: ere's nothing better, 'faith-fave flip and fighting.

uft away-I must——

at! fhall we fons of beef and freedom foop, lower our flag to flavery and foup? at! fhall thefe Parly-vocs make fuch a racket,

d I not lend a hand to lace their jacket?

But find that charity has got no ears. I fiift attack'd a colonel of the guardsSir, charity-confider its rewards; With healing hand the faddeft fores it fkins, And covers-O! a multitude of fins. He fwore the world was welcome to his thoughts:

'Twas damn'd hypocrify to hide one's faults; And with that fin his confcience ne'er was twitted,

The only one he never had committed.

Next to my knight I plead. He shook his head, Complain'd the stocks were low, and trade was dead.

In thefe Bath charities a tax he'd found More heavy than four thill ngs in the pound, 3 R

What

abbey,

What with the play-house, hofpital, and [fhabby. A man was ftripp'd—unless he'd look quite Then fuch a train,and fuch expence, to wit; My lady, all the brats, and coufin KitHe'd fteal himself, perhaps, into the pit.

Old Lady Slipflop, at her morning cards, Vows that all works of genus the regards, Raffles for Chinese gods, card houses, fhells,

Nor grudges to the mufic, or the bells,
But has a ftrange antiquity to nafty ofpitals.
I hope your lordship-then my lord re-
plies-

No doubt, the governors are very wife;
But, for the play, hewonder'd at their choice.
In Milton's days fuch stuff might be the taste,
But, 'faith! he thought it was damn'd dull¦
and chaste:

Then fwears he to the charity is hearty,
But can't in honour, break his evening party.
When to the gouty alderman I fued,
The nafty fellow (gad) was downright rude.
Is begging grown the fashion, with a pox!
The mayor fhould fend fuch housewifes in
the stocks.
[beaft,
Give you a guinea! Z-ds! replied the
'Twould buy a ticket for a turtle-feaft.
Think what a guinea a-head might fet before

various things the stage has been compar'd,

}

As apt ideas ftrike each humorous bard:
This night, for want of better fimile,
Let this our theatre a tavern be:
The poets vintners, and the waiters we.
So, as the cant and cuftom of the trade is,
You're welcome, gem'men; kindly welcome,
ladies.

To draw in customers, our bills are fpread;
You cannot mifs the fign, 'tis Shakspeare's
Head.
[vine,

From this fame head, this fountain-head di
For different palates fprings a different wine;
In which no tricks, to strengthen or to
thin 'em-

Hence flow for martial minds potations strong,

And fweet love potions for the fair and young, For you, my hearts of oak, for your regak, To the upper al There's good old English ftingo, mild and stale:

For high, luxurious fouls, with lof There's Sir John Falstaff in a butt of fact; And, if the ftronger liquors more invite Bardolph is gin, and Piftol aqua vitz. But fhould you call for Falstaff, where to f him, form

He's gone-nor left one cup of fack behin
Sunk in his elbow chair, no more he'll roam
No more, with merry wags, to Eaftcher
come;
[fack at ho
He's gone-to jeft and laugh, and give t
As for the learned critics, grave and dem
Who catch at words,and.catching, fall a
Who, in the ftorms of paffion, humandh
For fuch our mafter will no liquor dra
So blindly thoughtful, and fo darkly re
They take Tom Durfey's for the Shakir
Head.

A vintner once acquir'd both praife and And fold much Perry for the beft Chan Some rakes this precious stuff did so alam They drank whole nights-what's that—": wine is pure?

"Come, fill a bumper, Jack."-" "Here's cream!-damn'd fine!-immenupon my word!

"Sir William," what say you?"-"TH

believe me."

"In this-eh, Jack!—the devil can'ts Thus the wife critic, too, mistakes l Cries out, with lifted hands-Tisg

vine!

[vein,

pagne, Whofe fparkling atoms fhoot thro' every Then mount in magic vapours to th' enrap

tur'd brain!.

The culprit of this night appears Before his judges dares thefe boards "With all his imperfections on his Prologues precede the piece,in mount As-undertakers walk before the beat

Fxpos'd to fire and water, sword and bullet-
vight damp the heart of any virgin pullet.
I dread to think what might have come to pafs,
Had not the British lion quell'd the Gallicafs.
By Champignon a wretched victim led
To cloifter'd cell, or more detefted bed,
My days in pray'r and fafting I had spent ;
As nun, or wife, alike a penitent.
His gallantry, fo confident and eager,
Had prov'd a mefs of delicate foup-meagre.
To bootlefs longings I had fell a martyr;
But, Heaven be prais'd, the Frenchman caught
a Tartar.

Yet foft-our author's fate you muft decree;
Shall he come fafe to port or fink at fea?
Your fentence, fweet or bitter, foft or fore,
Floats his frail bark,or runs it bump afhore-
Yewits above, reftrain your awful thunder;
In his firft cruize'twere pity he fhould founder.
[To the gallery.
Safe from your fhot, he fears no other foe,
No gulf but that which horrid yawns below.
[To the pit.
The braveft chiefs, ev'n Hannibal and Cato,
Have here been tam'd with-pippin and po-

tatoe.

Cur bard embarks in a more Chriftian cause,
Fe craves not mercy, but he claims applaufe,
Elis pen against the hoftile French is drawn,
Who danins him is no Antigallican.
Indulg'd with fav'ring gales and fmiling skies,
Hereafter he may board a richer prize.
But if this welkia angry clouds deform,

To dafh the poet's ineffectual claim, And quench his thirst for univerfal fame, The Grecian fabulist in moral lay Has thus addrefs'd the writers of his day: Once on a time, a fon and fire, we're told, The ftripling tender, and the father old, Purchas'd a jack-afs at a country fair, To eafe their limbs, and hawk about theirsz: But as the fluggish animal was weak, They fear'd, if both fhould mount, his b would break:

Up gets the boy, the father leads the afs, And through the gazing crowd attemptat pafs.

Forth from the throng the grey beards hott And hail the cavalcade with feeble hout. "This the refpect to rev'rend age you I' "And this the duty you to parents owe? "He beats the hoof, and you are fet af: "Sirrah! get down, and let your fatherr As Grecian lads are feldom void of grz... The decent duteous youth refign'd his ;. Then a fresh murmur through the rabb Boys, girls, wives, widows, all attack ther "Sure never was brute beast so void of "Have you no pity for the pretty creat "To your own baby can you be unkind "Here-Suke, Bill, Betty-put the chil hind."

Old Dapple next the clown's comp claim'd:

trouble.

58. Prologue to the Author; 1757. FOOTE. SEVERE their task, who, in this critic age, With fresh materials furnish out the stage! Not that our fathers drain'd the comic store; Fresh characters fpring up as heretofore. Nature with novelty does ftill abound; On ev'ry fide freth follies may be found. But then the taste of every gueft to hit, To pleafe at once the gallery, box, and pit, Requires, at leaft, no common fhare of wit.

Thofe who adorn the orb of higher life, Demand the lively rake or modifh wife; Whilst they who in a lower circle move, Yawn at their wit, and flumber at their love. I light low mirth employs the comic scene, Such mirth as drives from vulgar minds the fpleen,

The polifh'd critic damns the wretched stuff, and cries-Twill pleafe the gall'ries well enough."

ch jarring judgments who can reconcile ? ~nce fops will frown, where humble traders

lealt."

The pair, till pliant to the partial va Difmount, and bear the afs-I hen vå noife!

Huzzas,loud laughs, low gibe, and bittern From the yet filent fire, thefe words prosa 'Proceed,my boy, nor heed their farther "Vain his attempts, who strives to pthem all."