PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MR. KING.

HITHER, in days of yore, from Spain or France,
Came a dread sorceress; her name, Romance.
O'er Britain's isle her wayward spells she cast,
And common sense in magic chain bound fast.
In mad sublime did each fond lover woo,
And in heroics ran each billet-doux:
High deeds of chivalry their sole delight,
Each fair a maid distrest, each swain a knight.
Then might Statira Orondates see,
At tilts and tournaments, arm'd cap-a-pie:
She too, on milk-white palfrey, lace in hand,
A dwarf to guard her, prane'd about the land.

This fiend to quell, his sword Cervantes drew,
A trusty Spanish blade, Toledo true:
Her talismans and magic wand he broke
Knights, genii, castles - vanished into smoke.
But now, the dear delight of later years,

The younger sister of romance appears;
Less solemn is her air, her drift the same,
And Novel her enchanting, charming name.
Romance might strike our grave forefathers' pomp;
But novel for our buck and lively romp!
Cassandra's folios now no longer read,
See two neat pocket volumes in their stead!
And then so sentimental is the style,
So chaste, yet so bewitching all the while!
Plot and elopement, passion, rape, and rapture,
The total sum of every dear-dear-chapter.

"Tis not alone the small-talk and the smart,

'Tis novel most beguiles the female heart. Miss reads she melts-she sighs-love steals upon herAnd then-alas, poor girl!-good-night, poor honour!

* Thus of our Polly having lightly spoke; Now for our author!-but without a joke.

Have laid this bantling at certain door,

before,

Where, lying store of faults, they'd fain heap more; S

I now declare it, as a serious truth,
'Tis the first folly of a simple youth,

Caught and deluded by our harlot plays:-
Then crush not in the shell this infant Bayes!
Exert your favour to a young beginner,
Nor use the stripling like a batter'd sinner!

* These lines were added by Mr. Garrick, on its being reported, that he was the author of this piece: and, however humorous and poetical, contain as strict matter of fact as the dullest prose.

SCENE I. An Apartment in HONEYCOMBE'S House. Enter POLLY, with a Book in her Hand.

Polly. WELL said, sir George!- the dear man! -But so -"With these words the enraptur'd baronet [Reading] concluded his declaration of love." So! -"But what heart can imagine, [Reading] what tongue describe, or what pen delineate, the amiable confusion of Emilia?" - Well! now for it! "Rea

der, if thou art a courtly reader, thou hast seen, at polite tables, iced cream crimsoned with raspberries; or, if thou art an uncourtly reader, thou hast seen the rosy-finger'd morning dawning in the golden east;" Dawning in the golden east! - Very pretty; - "Thou hast seen, perhaps, [Reading] the artificial vermilion on the cheeks of Cleora, or the vermilion of nature on those of Sylvia; thou hast seen in a word, the lovely face of Emilia was overspread with blushes.". This is a most beautiful passage, I protest! Well, a novel for my money! Lord, lord, my stupid papa has no taste. He has no notion of humour, and character, and the sensibility of delicate feeling. [Affectedly] And then mamma-but where was I?-Oh here- "overspread with blushes. [Reading] Sir George, touched at her confusion, gently seized her hand, and softly pressing it to his bosom, [Acting it as she reads] where the pulses of his heart beat quick, throbbing with tumultuous passion, in a plaintive tone of voice breathed out, Will you not answer me, Emilia?" -Tender creature! "She, half raising [Reading and acting] her downcast eyes, and half inclining her averted head, said in faltering accents-Yes, sir!" - Well, now!" Then gradually recovering, with ineffable sweetness she prepared to address him; when Mrs. Jenkinson bounced into the room, threw down a set of china in her hurry, and strewed the floor with porcelain fragments: then turning Emilia round and round, whirled her out of the apartment in an instant, and struck sir George dumb with astonishment at her appearance. She raved; but the baronet resuming his accustomed effrontery"

Enter Nurse.

Oh, nurse! I am glad to see you! -Well, and howNur. Well, chicken!

Polly. Tell me, tell me all this instant. Did you see him? Did you give him my letter? Did he write? Will he come? Shall I see him? Have you got the answer in your pocket? Have you

Nur. Blessings on her, how her tongue runs!

Polly. Nay, but come, dear nursee, tell me, what did he say?

Nur. Say? why he took the letter

Polly. Well!

Nur. And kiss'd it a thousand times, and read it a thousand times, and

Polly. Oh charming!

Nur. And ran about the room, and blest himself, and, heaven preserve us, curst himself, and

Polly. Very fine! very fine!

Nur. And vowed he was the most miserable creature upon earth, and the happiest man in the world, and