your view?

a

Beauty is weak, and passion bold and strong- Spatter. A itinging-nettle for his lordfhip's othen-but modesty restrains my tongue.

brcait :
May this night's bard a skitful raylor bc, And to my stars and dashes leave the rest.
And like a well-made coat his tragedy.

I'll make them milcrable, never fear;
Tho' close, yet casy ; decent, but not dull; Pout in a month, and part in half a year.
Short, but not scanty ; without buckram, fall. I know ny genius, and can trust my plan;

I'll break a woman's heart with any man.
2. Altor. Thanks, thanks, dear Spatter! be

fevere and bolal! 736 Epilogue to the English Mercbant; 1767. Spa:ter. No qualms of conscience with a purse

GARRICK.

of gold.

Tho' pill’ries threaten, and tho' crab-sticks fall, Enter Lady Alton [ Mrs. Abin 291] in a passion; Yours are my heari, soul, pen, cars, boncs, and all, • Spalter [Mr. King) following.

[Exit Sputter. L. Alton. I'll hear no more, thou wretch !

Lady Alton alone. Spatter. Aind to reason ! L. Akon. A woman of my rank, 'ris petty Thus to the winds at onee my cares I scattertreason !

O, 'tis a charming rascal, this same Spatter! Hear reason, blockhead! reason! what is that? His precious inifchief makes the storin fubfide! Bid me wear pattens and a high arown'd hat! My antyer, thank my kars! all role f.om pride! N'on't you begonc? What, won't you ? What's Pride thould belorg to us alone of fathion ;

And let the moð take love, that vulgar pallionSpalier. Humbły to serve the tuncful nine in Love, pity, tenderness, are only made you

for poets, Abigails, and folks in trade. L. Al!on. I renounce such things;

Some cits about their feelings make a fuss, Not Phobus now, but vengeance, sweeps the And some are better bred-who live with us. ftrings:

How low Lord Falbridge is !-He takes a wife, My mind is discord all !—I scorn, deteft To love, and cherish, and be fix'd for life! All human kind-you more than all the rest. Thinks marriage is a comfortable ftate, Spater. I humbly thank you, Ma'amn--but No pleasure like a vartuous téte à tête ! weigh the matter.

Do our lords justice, for I would not wrong'em, L. Alton. I won't hcar rcalon ! and I hate you, There are rot many such poor fouls among 'em. Spatter!

Our turtles from the town will fly with speed, Myself, and ev'ry thing.

And I hit foretel the vulgar life they ll lead. Spaiter. That I deny ;

With love and cale grown fat, they face all wcather, You love a little mischicf, fo do I;

And, farmers both, trudge ai min arm together. And mischief I have for you.

Now view their stock, now in their nursery prattle, L. Alton. How where when?

For ever with their children or their cattle. Wilt you ftab Falbridge?

wike the dull mill-horie in one round they keep; Spaiter, Ycs, Ma'am—with my pen.

They walk, talk, fondle, dine, and fall aileep; Ł. Alton. Let loose, my Spattes, till to death f“ Their custom always in the afternoon" you've ftung'em,

He bright as Sol, and the the chaste full moon! That green-cyed monster, jealousy, among 'em. Wak'd with her coffee, Madam first begins,

Spatter. To dalh at all, the spirit of my trade is, She rubs her eyes, his lordship rubs lois lhins; Men, women, children, parfons, lords, and ladies. She lips and imirks" Next week 's our wedThere will be danger.

"diny-day, L. Alton. And there Mall be

pay

" Married seven years !- and ev'ry hour more Take my purse, Spatter! [Gives is bim.

[Towns. : Spatter. In an honest way.

" True, Emmy,” cries my lord, “ the bleiling

{Smiles, and takes it. L. Alton. Should my lord beat you

“Our hearts in ev'ry thing fo fympathize!" Spatter. Let them laugh that win:

[Yawns. for all my bruises hero's goll-beaters skin! The day thus spent, my lord for music calls;

[Chinking ibe purse. He thrums the base, to which my lady squalls; L. Alton. Nay, should he kill you !

The children join, which so delight the!c ninSpatter, Ma'am ?

nics, L. Alion. My kindness meant

The brats scem all Guaduccies, Lovarinis. To pay your merie with a monument !

-What means this qualmi-Why, fure, while Spatter. Your kindness, lady, takes away iny I'm deipiting, breath :

That vulgar pallion, Envy, is vot rising! We'll stop, with your good leave, on this file derth. O no!-Contempt is struggling to burst out

L. Alton. Atrack Amelia, both in versc and prese, i'll give it vent at Laly Scalp'em's loui. Your wit can make a nertle of a cose,

Evt bati.

gay!"

a

}

74. Epilogue to Zenobia; 1768. Spoken by Mrs. $ 75. Epilogue spoken by Mrs. Pritcbard, om ber
Abington.
GARRICK.

quitting ibe Stage; 1768. GARRICK.
{sbe peeps through the curtain. THE curtain droptmy mimic life is paft

,

How do you all, good folks :-In tears, for

of sleep and my

Could I in such a scene my exit make,
Ill only take a peep behind the curtain : When ev'ry real feeling is awake?
You're all so full of tragedy and sadness, Which beating here, superior to all art,
For me to come among you, would be madness! Bursts in full tides from a molt grateful heart.
This is no time for giggling-when you've lei- I now appear myself, distressid, dismay'd,
fure,

More than in all the characters I've play'd;
Call out for me, and I'll attend your pleasure ; In acted paffion, tears may seem to fow,
As soldiers hurry at the beat of drum,

“ But I have that within that palleth dhow.” Bcat but your hands, that infant I will come. Before I go, and this lov'd spot forsake,

[Sbe enters upon their clapping. What gratitude can give, my wishes, take:
This is so good! to call me out so soon- Upon your hearts may no affliction prey,
The Comic Muse by me entreats a boon ; Which cannot by the stage be chas'd away;
She callid for Pritchard, her first maid of honour, and may the stage, to please each vinuous mind,
And beggd of her to take the task upon her ; Grow ev'ry day more moral, more refin'd,
But she, I'm sure you'll all be sorry for it, Refind from grossness, not by foreign skill:
Resigns her place, and soon retires from court : Weed out the poison, bue be English ftill!
To bear this loss we courtiers make a shift,

To all my brethren whom I leave behind,
When good folks leave lis, worse may have a lift. Still may your bounty, as to ine, be kind ;
The Comic Muse whose ev'ry simile is grace, To me for many years your favours How'd,
And her stage sister, with her tragic face, Humbly receiv'd-on finall defert beftow'd:
Have had a quarrel-each has writ a cale; For which I feel--what cannot be expressid
And on their friends assembled now I wait, Words are too weak--my tears muftipuak the rut
To give you of their diff'rence a true state.
Melpomene complains, when the appears,
For five good acts, in all her pomp of tears,
To raise your souls, and with your raptures $ 76. Prologue to the Good-natured M.29; 1768.

wing 'em,
Nay, wet your handkerchiefs, that you may

Јонх50s. wring 'em

PREST by the load of life, the weary mind
Some flippant hussey, like myself, comes in; Surveys the gen'ral toil of human kind,
Crack her fan, and with a giggling grin, With cool submiilion joins the lab'ring traic,

Hey! Presto! pass!"--all topsy-turvy lee, And social forrow loses half its pain;
For “ ho, ho, ho!" is chang'd to he, he, he!" Our anxious bard without complaint may share
We own'd the fault, but 'uis a fault in rogue; This bulling fcaton's cpidemic care ;
'Tis theirs who call and bawl for-Epilogue ! Like Cæfar's pilot dignificd by fate,
O, Ihame upon you !--for the time to come, Toft in one common storm with all the great ;
Know better, and go miserable home,

Diftrcft alike the statelman and the wit,
What says our comic goddess:-With reproches, When one a Borough courts, and one the Pit.
She vows her sister tragedy encroaches! The busy candidates for power and fame
And, spite of all her virtue and ambition, Have hopes, and fears, and wishes jult che fare ;
Is known to have an amorous disposition ! Disabled both to combat, or to Hy,
For in False Delicacy-wondrous fly,

Must hear all taunts, and hear without repr.
Join'd with a certain Irishman-ofre! Uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage,
She made you, when you ought to laugh, tocry. As mongrels bay the lion in a cage.
Her fifter's (miles with tears the tried to fmother, Th’offended burgess hoards his angry tale,
Rais'd such a tragi-comic kind of pother, For that blest year when all that vote may rail;
You laugh'd with one eye, while you cried Their Schemes of spite the poet's foes dismits,
with t'other.

Till that glad night when all that hate may hils:
What can be done!--fad work behind the scenes! " This day the powder'd curls and golden coat,
There comic females fcold with tragic queens ; Says swelling Crispin," begg'd a cobler's vote;"
Each party diff'rent ways the foe allails, “ This night our wit," the pert apprentice cries,
There'fhake the daggers, those prepare their nails. “ Lies at my feet; I hiss him, and he dics.".
· 'Tis you alone must calm these dire milhaps,

'tis true, can charm th'electing tribe;
Or we shall ftill continue pulling caps. The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe.
What is your will: I read it in your faces, Yec judg’d by those whose voices ne'er were fald,
That all hercafter take their proper places, He fecls no want of a!l-persuading gold;
Shake hands, and kiss, and friends, and burn But confident of praise, if praise be duc,
their calcs.

Trufts without fear to racrit and to you. * The lat scene of Lady Macbeck.

T Ac TH А

goes

}

F

The great,

a

}

$ 77. Prologue to False Delicacy; 1768. Spoken. First, something, in lingo of schools call’d an ode; by Mr. King

GARRICK. All critics, they told me, allow'd very good: I'M vex’d-quite vex'd—and you'll be vex'd One faid-you may take it for truth, I affure ye,

'Twas made by the little great man of oid Drury, -that's worfeTodeal with stubborn scribblers—there's the curse. By my brother Martin (for whose fake, d’yc hear) Write moral plays the blockhead !--why, good

This night I'd a mind for a touch at Shakspeare *;

But, honestly speaking, I take more delight in people, You'll foon expect this house to wear a freepie !

A bit of good fun, than drums, trumpets, and For our fine piece, to let you into facts,

fighting Is quite a serion--only preach'd in acts.

The proccllion, 'twas laid, would have been a fine You'll scarce believe me, till the proof appears ;

train,

Butcould not move forward-la!-fortherain) But even 1, Tom Fool, must lhed some tears : Do, ladics, look upon me--nay, no fimpering ;

Such tragical, comical folks, and fo fine Think you this face was ever made for whimp’ringWhat pity it was that the fun did not thine! Can I a cambric handkerchief ditplay, '

Since ladies, and baroncts, alderınen, 'squires, Thump my unfeeling breast, and roar away?

All went to this Jubilee full of desires, Why this is comical, perhaps you'll say.

In crowds, as they go for to see a new play; Rcfolving this strange awkward bard to pump,

And when it was done-why, they all came away! alk'd him what he meant :-He, tomewhat Don't let me forget-a main part of the thow, plump,

Was long-tail'd fine comets, by fam'd Angelo. New purs'd his belly, and his lips thus biting, Some turtle I got, which they call pashapeé'; “I must keep up the dignity of writing!”

But honest roatt beef's the best turtle for me. “ You may, but if you do, Sir, 1 inust tell ye,

I hate all ragouts; and, like a bold Briton, “ You'll not keep up that dignity of belly.”

Prefer good plum-pudding to aught I e'er bit on. Still he preach'd on—“ Bards of a former age

I drank too (and now I a poet may be) “ Held up abandon’d pictures on the stage ;

From a charming fine cup of the mulberry tree. “ Spread out their wit, with fascinating art,

To bed I must go-for which, like a ninny, “ And catch'd the fancy, to corrupt the heart:

I paid, like my betters, no less than a guinea, But, happy change ! in these more moral days, For rolling—not tleeping—in linen fo damp, “ You cannot (port with virtue, even in plays ;

As struck iny great toe, ever since, with the cramap. « On virtue's lide his pen the poet draws,

Thus fleec'd-in my pocket I felta great tinart“And boldly asks a hearing for his cause."

ing, Thusdid he prance and twell.-- The man mayprate,

Yet griev'd not when I and the splinters were And feed these whimsies in his addle pate,

parting, That you'll protect his Musc because ihe's good : 'Twas worth ten times more to hear sweet broA virgin, and to chafte!- lud! O lud !

ther Martin. No Mule the critic beadle's lath escapes ;

He spoke, till poor Scrub was just fit, with one eye Though vinuous, if a dowdy and a trapes:

To laugh, while the other was ready to cry, If his come forth a decent likely lais,

Which makes me now tell you, without any brug, You'll 1pcak her fair, and grant the proper pass :

He's a (ccond to none but the Warwickshire way. Or should his brain be turn'd with wild pretences,

The Jubilee over, I came to this place, In three hours time you'll bring hiin to his fenfes; To tell you iny story, and lue for your grace: And well you may, whcn in your pow's you get with granting fuce kir.dness, bound gratitude

You never refu:'d it-yet never before, him; In that short space, you blister, bleed, and sweat him.

I live but to own, with a diligent spirit, Among the Turks, indeed, he'd run no danger; Your favours have ever outrun my flight merit. They facred hold a madman and a stranger.

a

more.

$ 79. Prologue 10 Doelor Las in his Chariot; 1969, $ 78. Scrul's Trip to the Jubilee ; 1769. Spoken by Mr. Wifton.

Spoken by Mr. Foose. Garrick. FROM Stratford arriv'd-piping hot-gentle YOUR servant, kind masters, from bottoni to top, folks,

Be ailur'd, while I breathe, or can stand I From the rarest of thows, and most wonderful

mean, hop; jokes,

Be you pleased to finile, or be pleased to grumble, Your simple acquaintance, Scrub, comes to declare, Be whatever you please, I'm still your molt humble, "Twas fuller, by far, than our Litchfield great fair; As to laugh is a right only given to man, Such crowds of fine ladies, serenading and singing, To keep up that right is iny pride and my plan. Such firing of loud patereroes, and ringing

Fair ladies, don't frown; I meant woman too: To tell it in London, must scem all a fable; What's common to man, inust be commun to And yet I will tell it as well as I'm able.

you.
• This alludes to Ms. Weiton's desigo of playing Richard.

Yog

a

a

You all have a right your sweet muscles to curl, 1 Old sinners, loving the licentious joke,
From the old smirking prude to the tite’ing young May think there wants too, here and there, aftroke;
girl;

Round oaths and double meanings ftrew'd betwech,
And ever, with pleasure my brains I could spin, With them the virtues of the comic lcne.
To make you all giggle, and you, ye gods, grin. And yet the town in gen'ral is so nice,
In this present summer, as well as the part, It holds these virtuos as a kind of vice :
To your favour again we present Dr. Last, From the tecth outwards chafte, their hands bea
Who, by wonderful feats, in the papers recounted,

forc 'em,
From trudging on foot to his chariot is mounted. Like reps, even demi-reps, are all decorum.
Amongst the old Britons when war was begun, Thio' gross their thoughts, so delicate their ticaring,
Charioteers would Nay ten, while the foot could They think the very ftage should fine for livearing.
fay one.

Our author therefore fcrupled to cmploy
So when doctors on wheels with dispatches are sent, Your vulgar Damme, Sir ! and Damme, bor!
Mortality bills rise a thousand per cent. Nay, when by chance a naughty joke came par is,
But think not to physic that quackery's confin d; He wrape it up, you know, in lawyers Latia.

ir
All the world is a stage, and the quacks are man. So much refind the tecne fince former days,
kind:

When Congreve, Vanburgh, Wycherly

, wole There's trade, law, and state quacks; nay, would plays, we but search,

“ The Itage so loosely did Akrca tread, We should find---Heaven bless us !---some quacks “Shc fairly put all characters to bed." in the church!

Tho' now no bard would venture to depofit
The stiff-band and stiff-bob of the Methodist race, A inacaroni in a lady's closet ;
Give the balfam of life and the tincture of grace; Left the frail fair-one he be thought to ruin,
And their poor wretched patients think inuch good “ While inoon and stars alone" ice what they're
is done 'em,

doing.
Tho' blisters and cauftics are ever upon 'em. In the old plays, gallants cake no denial,
As for laws and the state, if quackery's a curse, But puc the struggling actress to the trial.
Which will make the good bad, and the bad will Bless me! I shudder even now to think,
make worse,

How near myfelf may come to danger's brick! We should point out the quack from the regular in modern plays more safe the female station, brother;

Secure as our lad folcmn situation !
They are wiler than I who can tellone from t'other! No rakith forward spark dares now be rude,
Can the stage, with its bills, puffs, and patients, The Comic Muse herself grown quite a prude!
stand trial?

No wonder, then, it in fo pure an axe
Shall we find out no quacks in the Theatre-Royal: No Congreves write for ac demure a stage !
Some dramatical drugs, that are puff’d on the town,
Cause many wry faces, and scarce will go down.
Nay, an audience fometimes will in quack'ry de- $ 81. Prologue to the School for Rakes; 1974
light,

Spoken by Mr. King

GARRICK And fiveat down an author fome pounds in one THE fcribbling gentry, ever frank and frien night.

Tofwccp the ftage with prologues, fix come To return to our quack--should he, help'd by the A female representative I come, weather,

And with a prologue, which I call a brocin, Raise laughter, and kind perspiration, together; To tweep the critic cobwebs from the room. Should his noftrums of hip and of vapours but Critics, like tpiders, into corners creep, cure ye,

And at new plays their bloody revels keeps His chariot he well can deserve, I assure ye: With some finall venom close' in ambulh lien 'Tis easy to let up a chariot in town,

Ready to seize the poor dramatic fly :
And easier still is chat chariot laid down. The weak and hecdless soon become their prev, ?
He petitions by me, both as doctor and lover,

But the strong blue-bottle will force its have
That you'll not stop his wheels, or his chariot tip Clean well its wings, and hum another day.

Unknown to nature's laws, we've here one cri!,
Fix him well, I beseech you; the worst on't would be, For flies, turn'd spiders, play the
Should overturn him, you may over fet me. F'caring fome danger, I will lay before ye

A hort, true, recent, tragic-comic story.

As late I launcer' in the Park for air,
§ 8o. Epilogue to the Duellift ; 1773. Spoken by As free from thought as any coxcomb there,
Miss Barsanti.
Two sparks came up; one whisper'd in my ear

, So, men of valour! you difike our play: He was a critic; then alk'd me, with a sneer--

Nothing against it do the ladies lay. Thus standing,ttaring--with a swaggeringswing To own they're pleas'd the critics cver loth, “ You've writ a farce;"..." Yes, Sir, a foolib Nlutter, " A Duellist, with scarce an oath !

"thing." « 'Tis like his hat that was without a feather; “ Damn'd foolish---You'd better mind your “ Duels and Dammes always go together.”

" acting, King

*715

a

Over

Very devi!

you

a

a

grint 'em,

as

"'Tis ten to one.--I speak it for your sake, Our landlords are game-cocks, and fair play but “ That this fame farce will prove---your Wit's * last Stake."

I'll warrant you pastime from each little bantam. " I fcribble for amusement, boast no pow’rs.” Let's return to the punch---) hope, frum iny loul,

That now the old Naypye may fell Right, for yourown amusement---not for ours.”

bowl:

you a Thus he went on; and with his pleasant talking, We have all sorts and sizes, a quick trade to drive, I lost the appetite I got with walking.

As one shilling, two fhilling, three thilling, five: He laugh'd.--I bow d---but, ere I could retreat, In this town of Stratford we'll have cach inHis lifping friend did thus the dose repeat:

gredient, Pray, Sir---this School for Rakes---the wo- Befide a kind welcome from me, your obedient. " man's play

(turday; I'll now squeeze my fruit, pur tugar and rum in, “When do you give it us :"..." Next Sa. And be back in a moment [Bill rings] A com. * I hope you'll both be kind to her, at icaft."

ing, a coming, a coming! * A fcribbling woman is a dreadful beaft!--" Then they're so ugly, all these female wits--

§ 83. Prologue to the Cbristmas Tule; 1774. “I'll damn her play.--to throw Her into fits.

GARRICK. “ Had I my will, those lattern fluttith dames-.. “ They all should see the bottom of the Thames."' Music plays, and enter several persons with difIf you are here, good Sirs, to breed a riot,

ferent kinds of diflris. [Looking alout ibe house. Enter Mr. Palmer in the character of Chrisimas. Den’t thew your spite; för if you are not quiet, 'Tis ten to one--- I speak it for your fake,

Go on prepare my bounty for my friends, This School for Rakes will prove your Wits

And see that Mirth, with all her crew,

tends. lat Stake: As you [10 ibe pit) save me from their tyrannic

To the Audience. will,

Behold a perfonae, well known to fame, You will not let them use a woman ill.

Once lov'd and honour'da -Christmas is my Protect her and her brat---the truly brave My officers of 1tare my talte display ; [name? Women and children will for ever fare:

Cooks, fcullions, pastry-cooks, prepare my way;

Holly and ivy round nie honours fpicad, $ 82. Prologue to the Jubile; 1969. Spoken And my retinue thew--- I'm not iil-fed ; by Mr. King, in the Character of a llator. Minc'd pics, by way of belt, my breast divide,

GARRICK. And a large carving-knise adorns my fide; FROM London, your honours, to Stratford I'm Tis no sop's weapon, 'twil! be often drawn:

{Tom; | This turtán for my head-.-js collar'd brawn. I'm a waiter, your honours; you know bustling Tho' old, and white my locks, my cheeks are Who, proud of your orders, and bowing before ye, cherry;

(merry ; Till supper is ready, I'll tell you a story. Warın'd by good fires, good cheer, I'm always 'Twixt Hlounslow and Colnbrooke, two houses l'ith carrol, niddle, dance, and pleasant tale, of fame,

[by name : Juft, gibe, prank, gumbol, mummery, and ale, Well known on that road, the Tivo Viaypves Englith hearts rejoic'd in days of yore; The one of long standirg, the other a new one; For new strange modes, imported by the score, This boafts it's the old one, and that it's the true

Suppole yourselve's well featud by a fire, Sure we, the old Ma pye, as well as the younger, (Stuck close, you fuem more warın than you May boast that our liquor is clcarcr and stronger. Of bragging and puffing you make but a jest; Old Father Chrismas, now in all his glory, You tate of us both, and will stick to the best. Begs with kind hearts you'll listen to his itory i A race we have had for your priime and laughter; Clear well your thoughts from politics and fpleen, Young Mag started firít, with oid Mag hopping Hear my tale out, toe all that's to be seen. afier.

Take care, my children, that you well behavc... 'Tis faid the old house hath porturs d a receipt

You, Sir, in blue red cape, not quite to grave : To make a choice mixture of four, strong, and That critic there in black ---lo ftern and thin, swect;

Before you frown, pray let the tale beginA Jubilee punch, which, right skilfully made, You in the crimfoi capuchin, I fear you; Insur'd the old Magpye a good running trade: Wy, Madam, at this tine lucross

appear vou But think you we mean to inonopolize... No, no, Excute me, pray--- I did not see your husband We are like biother Ashley, pro publico bono. Each Maypye, your honours, will peck at his į Don't think, fair ladies, I expcét that you brother,

[other. Should hearmytale---you've fomething clle to do: And their natures were always to crib froin each Nor will our beaux old English fare encourage; Young landlords and old ones are taug'it by their No foreign tiste could c’er digest plum-porridge. calling

I have no fauce to quicken lifeleis finners; To laugh at engrossing---but practise foreitalling My food is meant for honest hearty guinners.

Tor &

como:

one.

defire)

a

near yoll.