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PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE,

A TRAGEDY.

IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore

The distant climates, and the savage shore;
When wise astronomers to India steer,

And quit for Venus many a brighter here;
While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently-go simpling;
Our bard into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.
With Scythian stores and trinkets deeply laden,
He this way steers his course, in hopes of
trading;

Yet, ere he lands, has order'd me before

To make an observation on the shore.

Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost!

This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast.
Lord, what a sultry climate am I under!
Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with

thunder:

[Upper gallery.

There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em

[Pit.

Here trees of stately size, and billing turtles in

em

[Balconies.

Here ill-condition'd oranges abound- [Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground: [Tasting them.

The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear :

I heard a hissing-there are serpents here!
O, there the people are best keep my distance;
Our captain (gentle natives) craves assistance;
Our ship's well-stored-in yonder creek we've
laid her,

His honour is no mercenary trader.

This is his first adventure: lend him aid,
And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought
from far,

Equally fit for gallantry and war.

What, no reply to promises so ample?
-I'd best step back, and order up a sample.

SONG.

O MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys, recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain!

Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe;
And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.

EPILOGUE;

SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWES, IN THE CHARACTER OF HARLEQUIN, AT HIS BENEFIT.

HOLD! prompter, hold! a word before your

nonsense;

I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.
My pride forbids it ever should be said,
My heels eclips'd the honours of my head;
That I found humour in a piebald vest,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest.

[Takes off his mask. Whence and what art thou, visionary birth? Nature disowns, and reason scorns, thy mirth; In thy black aspect every passion sleeps, The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps. How hast thou fill'd the scene with all thy brood,

Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd! Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses, Whose only plot it is to break our noses; Whilst from below the trap-door demons rise, And from above the dangling deities.

H

And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew?
May rosin'd lightning blast me, if I do!
No I will act, I'll vindicate the stage:
Shakspeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.
Off, off, vile trappings; a new passion reigns!
The madd'ning monarch revels in my veins.
Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme:
'Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!
-soft-'twas but a dream.'

Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating:

If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.

'Twas thus that Æsop's stag, a creature blameless,

Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless,

Once on the margin of a fountain stood,
And cavill'd at his image in the flood.

'The deuse confound,' he cries, these drumstick shanks,

They neither have my gratitude nor thanks:
They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead!
But for a head,-yes, yes, I have a head.
How piercing is that eye! how sleek that

brow!

My horns! I'm told, horns are the fashion now.'

Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd, to his view, Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew.

Hoicks! hark forward! came thundering from behind;

He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind:
He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways;
He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.
At length his silly head, so priz'd before,
Is taught his former folly to deplore;
Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free,
And at one bound he saves himself, like me.
[Taking a jump through the stage door.

SONG.

FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY,

THE wretch condemn'd with life to part,

Still, still on hope relies;

And every pang that rends the heart,

Bids expectation rise.

Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way:

And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.

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