No More Learning

The war against the Turks, which was now raging in Hungary, seems
to have occupied much of James's attention. He amused himself with
anxiety about the fate of this holy warfare, as he probably thought
it, while his own crown was tottering on his head. In all his letters
to the Prince of Orange, he expresses his wishes for the peace of
Christendom, that the emperor and the Venetians might have leisure to
prosecute the war against the Turks; and conjectures about the taking
of Belgrade, and the progress of the Duke of Lorraine, are very gravely
sent, as interesting matter to the prince, who was anticipating the
conquest of England, and the dethronement of his father-in-law. There
may be something of affectation in this; but, as Dryden takes up
the same tone, it may be supposed to have forwarded James's general
conversation, as well as his letters to the Prince of Orange. --_See_
DALRYMPLE'S _Memoirs_. _Appendix to Book V. _


Note IV.

_Behold another Sylvester, to bless
The sacred standard, and secure success;
Large of his treasures, of a soul so great,
As fills and crowds his universal seat. _--P. 292.

Dryden talks of the Pope with the respect of a good Catholic.
Nevertheless it happened, by a very odd chance, that, while the throne
of England was held by a Catholic, for the first time during the course
of a century, the chair of St Peter was occupied by Innocent XI. who
acquired the uncommon epithet of the Protestant Pope. He received, with
great coldness, the Earl of Castlemain, whom James sent to Rome as his
ambassador, and refused the only two requests which a king of England
had made to Rome since the days of Henry VIII. , although they were only
a dispensation to Petre the king's confessor, to hold a bishopric,
and another to the Mareschal D'Humier's daughter to marry within the
prohibited degrees. Nay, the Pope is said to have privately admitted
the Prince of Orange's envoy to his confidence, while he treated
Castlemaine with so much contempt. The cause of this coldness was the
Pope's quarrel with James's ally, Louis, and his dislike to the order
of Jesuits, by whom the king of England was entirely ruled. In truth,
Innocent XI. was much more anxious to maintain the privileges of the
Roman see against those princes who retained her communion, than to add
England to a flock which was become so mutinous and untractable. He
was, besides, a man of no extended views, and chiefly concerned himself
with managing the papal revenue, involved in debt by a succession of
wasteful pontificates. To this the conversion of England promised no
immediate addition, and, with the narrowness of view natural to his
pursuits, Innocent XI. thought it better to employ his exertions in
realizing an immediate income, than in endeavouring to extend the faith
and authority of the church, by embarking in a design of great doubt
and hazard. He was, therefore, but a very poor representative of Pope
Sylvester. As for the last two lines, they contain, what we seldom
meet with in Dryden's poetry, a compliment not only bombastic, but
unappropriate, and even unmeaning.


Note V.

_Born in broad day-light, that the ungrateful rout
May find no room for a remaining doubt. _--P. 293.

In these lines, and the following, where the poet, with indecent
freedom, compares the suspicions entertained of a spurious birth to
the devil's doubts concerning our Saviour's godhead, he alludes to
those circumstances of publicity, which one would have supposed might
have rendered the birth of the prince indisputable. It took place at
ten o'clock in the morning; and eighteen privy counsellors, besides a
number of ladies, were present at the delivery. But the party violence
of the period was so extravagant, as to receive and circulate a variety
of reports, inconsistent with each other, and agreeing only in the
general conclusion, that the child was an imposition upon the nation.
The reasoning of the Bishop of Salisbury, on this point, is admirably
summed up by Smollet.

"On the 10th of June, 1688, the queen was suddenly seized with
labour-pains, and delivered of a son, who was baptized by the name of
James, and declared Prince of Wales. All the Catholics and friends of
James were transported with the most extravagant joy at the birth of
this child; while great part of the nation consoled themselves with
the notion, that it was altogether supposititious. They carefully
collected a variety of circumstances, upon which this conjecture
was founded; and though they were inconsistent, contradictory, and
inconclusive, the inference was so agreeable to the views and passions
of the people, that it made an impression which, in all probability,
will never be totally effaced. Dr Burnet, who seems to have been at
uncommon pains to establish this belief, and to have consulted all the
Whig nurses in England upon the subject, first pretends to demonstrate,
that the queen was not with child; secondly, that she was with child,
but miscarried; thirdly, that a child was brought into the queen's
apartment in a warming-pan; fourthly, that there was no child at all
in the room; fifthly, that the queen actually bore a child, but it
died that same day; sixthly, that it had the fits, of which it died at
Richmond; therefore, the Chevalier de St George must be the fruit of
four different impostures. "


Note VI.

_Five months to discord and debate were given. _--P. 295.

During the five months preceding the birth of the Chevalier de St
George, James was wholly engaged by those feuds and dissensions which
tended to render irreparable the breach between him and his subjects.
The arbitrary attacks upon the privileges of Magdalen College, and
of the Charter-House, fell nearly within this period. Above all, the
petition of the seven bishops against reading the Declaration of
Indulgence, their imprisonment, their memorable trial and acquittal,
had all taken place since the month of April; and it is well known
to what a state of violent opposition the nation had been urged by a
train of arbitrary acts of violence, so imprudently commenced, and
perversely insisted in. Dryden, like other men of sense, probably began
to foresee the consequences of so violent and general irritation; and
expresses himself in moderate and soothing language, both as to the
past and future. Nothing is therefore dropt which can offend the church
of England. Perhaps they may have been spared by the royal command;
for it seems, as is hinted by a letter from Halifax to the Prince of
Orange, that, not finding his expectations answered by the dissenters,
whom he had so greatly favoured of late, James entertained thoughts of
returning to his old friends, the High-churchmen; "but the truth is,"
his lordship adds, "the Papists have of late been so hard and fierce
upon them, that the very species of those formerly mistaking men is
destroyed; they have so broken that loom in pieces, that they cannot
now set it up again to work upon it. "--DALRYMPLE'S _Memoirs_. Appendix
to Book V.


Note VII.

----_When the sudden blast,
The face of heaven, and our young sun, o'ercast,
Fame, the swift ill increasing as she rolled,
Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told. _--P. 297.

There was, Dryden informs us, a report of the prince's death, to which
he alludes. James, in a letter to the Prince of Orange, dated June 12,
mentions the birth of his son on the Sunday preceding, and adds, "the
child was somewhat ill this last night, of the wind, and some gripes,
but is now, blessed be God, very well, and like to have no returns
of it, and is a strong boy. " About this illness, Burnet tells the
following gossipping story: "That night, one Hemings, a very worthy
man, an apothecary by his trade, who lived in St Martin's Lane, the
very next door to a family of an eminent Papist, (Brown, brother to
the Viscount Montacute, lived there;) the wall between his parlour and
their's being so thin, that he could easily hear any thing that was
said with a louder voice, he (Hemings) was reading in his parlour late
at night, when he heard one come into the neighbouring parlour, and
say, with a doleful voice, the Prince of Wales is dead: Upon which a
great many that lived in the house came down stairs very quick. Upon
this confusion he could not hear any thing more; but it was plain they
were in a great consternation. He went with the news next morning to
the bishops in the Tower. The Countess of Clarendon came thither soon
after, and told them, she had been at the young prince's door, but
was denied access: she was amazed at it; and asked, if they knew her:
they said, they did; but that the queen had ordered, that no person
whatsoever should be suffered to come in to him. This gave credit to
Hemings' story; and looked as if all was ordered to be kept shut up
close, till another child was found. One, that saw the child two days
after, said to me, that he looked strong, and not like a child so newly
born. "

The poem of Dryden plainly proves, that such a report was so far
from being confined among the Catholics, that it was spread over
all the town; and what the worthy Mr Hemings over-heard in his next
neighbour's, the Papist's, might probably have been heard in any
company in London that evening, although the mode of communication
would doubtless have been doleful or joyous, according to the party and
religion of the news-bearer.




PROLOGUES

AND

EPILOGUES.




PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES.


The prologue of the English drama was originally, like that of the
ancients, merely a kind of argument of the play, instructing the
audience concerning those particulars of the plot, which were necessary
in order to understand the opening of the piece. That this might be
done more artificially, it was often spoken in the character of some
person connected with the preceding history of the intrigue, though
not properly one of the _dramatis personæ_. But when increasing
refinement introduced the present mode of opening the action in the
course of the play itself, the prologue became a preliminary address
to the audience, bespeaking their attention and favour for the piece.
The epilogue had always borne this last character, being merely an
extension of the ancient "_valete et plaudite_;" an opportunity seized
by the performers, after resigning their mimic characters, to pay their
respects to the public in their own, and to solicit its approbation
of their exertions. By degrees it assumed a more important shape, and
was indulged in descanting upon such popular topics as were likely to
interest the audience, even though less immediately connected with the
actor's address of thanks, or the piece they had been performing. Both
the prologue and epilogue had assumed their present character so early
as the days of Shakespeare and Jonson.

With the revival of dramatic entertainments, after the Restoration,
these addresses were revived also; and a degree of consequence seems
to have been attached to them in that witty age, which they did not
possess before, and which has not since been given to them. They were
not only used to propitiate the audience; to apologize for the players,
or poet; or to satirize the follies of the day, which is now their
chief purpose; but they became, during the collision of contending
factions, vehicles of political tenets and political sarcasm, which
could, at no time, be insinuated with more success, than when clothed
in nervous verse, and delivered with all the advantages of elocution
to an audience, whose numbers rendered the impression of poetry and
eloquence more contagious.

It is not surprising that Dryden soon obtained a complete and absolute
superiority in this style of composition over all who pretended to
compete with him. While the harmony of his verse gave that advantage
to the speaker, which was wanting in the harsh, coarse, broken measure
of his contemporaries, his powers of reasoning and of satire left them
as far behind in sense as in sound. This superiority, and the great
influence which he had in the management of the theatre, made it usual
to invoke his assistance in the case of new plays; many of which he
accordingly furnished either with prologues or epilogues. The players
also had recourse to him upon any remarkable occasion; as, when a new
house was opened; when the theatre was honoured by a visit from the
king or duke; when they played at Oxford, during the public acts;
or, in short, in all cases when an occasional prologue was thought
necessary to grace their performance.

The collection of these pieces, which follows, is far from being the
least valuable part of our author's labours. The variety and richness
of fancy which they indicate, is one of Dryden's most remarkable
poetical attributes. Whether the theme be, the youth and inexperience
or the age and past services, of the author; the plainness or
magnificence of a new theatre; the superiority of ancient authors, or
the exaltation of the moderns; the censure of political faction, or
of fashionable follies; the praise of the monarch, or the ridicule
of the administration; the poet never fails to treat it with the
liveliness appropriate to verses intended to be spoken, and spoken
before a numerous assembly. The manner which Dryden assumes, varies
also with the nature of his audience. The prologues and epilogues,
intended for the London stage, are written in a tone of superiority,
as if the poet, conscious of the justice of his own laws of criticism,
rather imposed them upon the public as absolute and undeniable,
than as standing in need of their ratification. And if he sometimes
condescends to solicit, in a more humble style, the approbation of the
audience, and to state circumstances of apology, and pleas of favour,
it is only in the case of other poets; for, in the prologues of his
own plays, he always rather demands than begs their applause; and if
he acknowledges any defects in the piece, he takes care to intimate,
that they are introduced in compliance with the evil taste of the age;
and that the audience must take the blame to themselves, instead of
throwing it upon the writer. This bold, style of address, although it
occasionally drew upon our author the charge of presumption, was,
nevertheless, so well supported by his perception of what was just
in criticism, and his powers of defending even what was actually
wrong, that a miscellaneous audience was, in general, fain to submit
to a domination, as successfully supported as boldly claimed. In the
Oxford prologues, on the other hand, the audience furnished by that
seat of the Muses, as of more competent judgment, are addressed with
more respectful deference by the poet. [330] He seems, in these, to lay
down his rules of criticism, as it were under correction of superior
judges; and intermingles them with such compliments to the taste and
learning of the members of the university, as he disdains to bestow
upon the motley audience of the metropolis. In one style, the author
seems dictating to scholars, whose conceit and presumption must be
lowered by censure, to make them sensible of their own deficiencies,
and induce them to receive the offered instruction; in the other, he
seems to deliver his opinions before men, whom he acknowledges as his
equals, if not his superiors, in the arts of which he is treating. And
although Brown has very grossly charged Dryden with having affected,
for the university, an esteem and respect, which he was far from really
feeling; and with having exposed its members, in their turn, to the
ridicule of the London audience, whom he had stigmatized in his Oxford
prologues as void of taste and judgment; it is but fair to state, that
nothing can be produced in proof of such an accusation. [331] In another
respect, the reader may remark a pleasing difference between the London
prologues and epilogues, and those spoken at Oxford. The licence
of the times permitted, and even exacted from an author, in these
compositions, the indulgence of an indelicate vein of humour; which,
however humiliating, is, in general, successful in a vulgar or mixed
audience, as turning upon subjects adapted to the meanest capacity.
This continued even down to our times; for, till very lately, it was
expected by the mobbish part of the audience, that they should be
indemnified for the patience with which they had listened to the moral
lessons of a tragedy, by the indecency of the epilogue. In Dryden's
time, this coarse raillery was carried to great excess; but our author,
however culpable in other compositions, is, generally speaking, more
correct than his contemporaries in his prologues and epilogues. In the
Oxford pieces, particularly, where the decorum of manners, suited to
that mother of learning, required him to abstain from all licentious
allusion, Dryden has given some excellent specimens of how little he
needed to rely upon this obvious and vulgar aid, for the amusement of
his audience. Upon the whole, it will be difficult to find pieces of
this occasional nature so interesting and unexceptionable as those
spoken at Oxford. They are, as they ought to be, by far the most
laboured and correct which our author gave to the stage. It may not be
improper to add, that the players were only permitted to visit Oxford
during the Public Acts, which were frequently celebrated on occasions
of public rejoicing. They acted, it would appear, in a Tennis-court,
fitted up as an occasional theatre; and the prologues and epilogues
of Dryden tended doubtless greatly to conciliate the favour of an
audience, consisting of all that was learned in the generation then
mature, and all that was hopeful in that which was rising to succeed it.

The more miscellaneous prologues and epilogues of Dryden are not
without interest. In ridiculing the vices or follies of the age, they
often touch upon circumstances illustrative of manners; and certainly,
though the modern theatres of the metropolis are so ill regulated,
as nearly to exclude modest females from all the house, except the
private boxes, their decorum is superior to that of their predecessors.
If we conceive the boxes filled with women, whose masks levelled
all distinction between the woman of fashion and the courtezan; the
galleries crowded with a rabble, more ferocious and ignorant than
its present inmates; the pit occupied by drunken bullies, whose
quarrels perpetually interrupted the performers, and often ended in
bloodshed, and even murder, upon the spot; we shall have occasion to
congratulate ourselves upon being at least in the way of reformation.
These enormities of his time, Dryden has pointed out, and censured in
his strong and nervous satire. It is to be regretted, that his painting
is often coarse, and sometimes intentionally licentious; although,
as has been already observed, more seldom so than that of most of
his contemporaries. The historical antiquary may also glean some
observations on the state of parties, from those pieces which turn upon
the politics of the day; and there occur numerous hints, which may be
useful to an historian of the drama. Thus the Prologues and Epilogues
form no improper supplement to Dryden's historical poetry.

It remains to say, that all these prologues and epilogues were,
according to the custom of that time, printed on single leaves, or
broadsides, as they are called, and sold by the hawkers at the door
of the theatres. Some of these, but very few, have been preserved by
Mr Luttrell, in the collection belonging to Mr Bindley. If a set of
them existed, I think it probable they would be found to contain many
variations from those editions, which the more mature reflection of
the author gave to the world in the Miscellanies. But the loss is the
less to be lamented, as, in general, the original editions which I have
seen are not only more inaccurate, but coarser and more licentious,
than those which Dryden finally adopted. In the original prologue
of Circe, which is printed in this edition, for example, the reader
will find, that, in place of the well-known apology for an author's
first production, by an appeal to those of Shakespeare, Fletcher,
and Jonson, his youth is only made the subject of some commonplace
raillery. Indeed, so little value did Dryden himself set upon these
occasional effusions before they were collected, and so little did he
consider them as entitled to live in the recollection of the public,
that, on one occasion at least, but probably upon several, he actually
transferred the same prologue from one new play to another. Thus he
reclaimed, from his adversary Shadwell's play of "The True Widow,"
the prologue which he had furnished, and affixed it to the "Widow
Ranter" of Mrs Behn. Sometimes also he laid under contribution former
publications of his own, which he supposed to be forgotten, in order to
furnish out one of these theatrical prefaces. Thus the satire against
the Dutch furnishes the principal part of the prologue and epilogue to
"Amboyna. "

Inaccurate as they seem to have been, the original editions might have
proved useful in arranging the prologues and epilogues according
to their exact dates, which, where they are not attached to any
particular play, can now only be assigned from internal evidence. But
absolute accuracy in this point, though no doubt desirable if it can
be obtained, does not appear to be a point of any serious moment; and,
after having bestowed considerable pains, the Editor will neither
be much ashamed, nor inconsolably sorry, to find, that some of the
prologues and epilogues have been misplaced in the order which he has
adopted.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 330: Our author's several modes of coaxing or bullying the
audience in the prologues, are ridiculed in the "Rehearsal;" where
Bayes says, "You must know there is in nature but two ways of making
very good prologues;--the one is, by civility, by insinuation, good
language, and all that to ---- a ---- in a manner steal your plaudit
from the courtesy of the auditors: the other, by making use of some
certain personal things, which may keep a hank upon such censuring
persons as cannot otherwise, egad, in nature, be hindered from being
too free with their tongues. "]

[Footnote 331: The following is the statement of the accusation in
Tom's peculiar style, being a sort of cant jargon, not void of low
humour:

"_Bayes. _ Now, there being but three remarkable places in the whole
island; that is, the two universities, and the great metropolitan city;
I shall, consequently, confine my discourse only to them: But, first
of all, I must tell you, that I am altogether of my Lord Plausible's
opinion in the "Plain Dealer;" if I chance to commend any place, or
order of men, out of pure friendship, I choose to do it before their
faces; and if I have occasion to speak ill of any person or place,
out of a principle of respect and good manners, I do it behind their
backs. You cannot imagine, Mr Crites, when I visit either of the
two universities, in my own person, or by my commissioners of the
playhouse, how much I am taken with a college life: Oh, there's nothing
like a cheese cut out into farthings! and my Lord Mayor, amidst all
his brutal city luxury, does not dine half so well as a student upon
a single chop of rotten roasted mutton; nay, I can scarce prevail
with myself, for a month or two after, to eat my meat on a plate,
so great a respect have I for a university trencher; and then their
conversation is so learned, and withal so innocent, that I could sit a
whole day together at a coffee-house to hear them dispute about _actus
perspicui_, and _forma misti_. From this beginning I naturally fall a
railing at London, with as much zeal as a Buckingham-shire grazier, who
had his pocket picked at a Smithfield entertainment; or a country lady,
whose obsequious knight has spent his estate among misses, vintners,
and linen-drapers; and then I tell my audience, that a man may walk
farther in the city to meet a true judge of poetry, than ride his horse
on Salisbury Plain to find a house.

London likes grossly, but this nicer pit
Examines, fathoms, all the depths of wit.

You see here, Mr Crites, that scholars won't take Alderman Duncomb's
leaden halfpence for Irish half crowns, while dull Londoner swallows
every thing; and takes it with as little consideration, as a true
Romanist takes a spiritual dose of relicts, that are sealed up with the
council of Trent's coat-of-arms.

_Eugen. _ How was that, Mr Bayes, about the council of Trent? Pray, let
us hear it again.

_Bayes. _ Gad forgive me for't! --it dropt from me ere I was aware; but I
shall in time wear off this hitching in my gait, and walk in Catholic
trammels as well as the best of them; nature, I must confess, is not
overcome on the sudden--But let me see, gentlemen, whether I have any
more lines to our last purpose; oh, here they are!

Poetry, which is in Oxford made
An art, in London only is a trade.
Our poet, could he find forgiveness here,
Would wish it rather than a plaudit there.

You are sensible, without question, how little beholden the city is to
me, when I am upon my progress elsewhere. But 'tis a comfort that this
peremptory humour does not continue long upon me; for, as I have the
grace to disown my mother-university, with a jug in one hand, and a
link in the other, when I am at Oxford,--

Thebes did his green unknowing years engage;
He chuses Athens in his riper age.

So, when I am got amongst my honest acquaintance here in Covent-Garden,
I disown both the sisters, and make myself as merry as a grig, with
their greasy trenchers, rusty salt-sellers, and no napkins, with their
everlasting drinking, and no intervals of fornication to relieve it.
In fine, I make a great scruple of it, whether it be possible for a
man to write sound heroics, and make an accomplished thorough-paced
wit, unless he comes to refine and cultivate himself at London;
unless be knows how many stories high the houses are in Cheapside
and Fleet-street; is acquainted with all the gaming ordinaries about
town, and the rates of porters and hackney-coachmen; has shot the
bridge; seen the tombs at Westminster; heard the Wooden-head speak; can
tell you where the insuring-office is kept; and which of the twelve
companies has the honour of precedence. "

_The Reasons for Mr Bayes changing his Religion_, p. 10.
]




PROLOGUE

SPOKEN

THE FIRST DAY OF THE KING'S HOUSE ACTING AFTER THE FIRE.


_In January_, 1671-2, _the play-house in Drury-Lane_, _occupied by
the King's company_, _took fire_, _and was entirely destroyed_, _with
fifty or sixty adjoining houses_, _which were either involved in
the conflagration_, _or blown up to stop its progress_. _During the
rebuilding of this theatre, the King's servants acted in the old
house in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. The following Prologue announces
the distressed situation of the company on their retreat to this
temporary asylum. The sixth couplet alludes to the recent desertion
of the Lincoln's-Inn theatre, by the rival company, called the
Duke's, who were now acting at one in Dorset Gardens, splendidly
fitted up under the direction of Sir William D'Avenant. _

So shipwrecked passengers escaped to land,
So look they, when on the bare beach they stand,
Dropping and cold, and their first fear scarce o'er,
Expecting famine on a desart shore.
From that hard climate we must wait for bread,
Whence even the natives, forced by hunger, fled.
Our stage does human chance present to view,
But ne'er before was seen so sadly true:
You are changed too, and your pretence to see
Is but a nobler name for charity.
Your own provisions furnish out our feasts,
While you, the founders, make yourselves the guests.
Of all mankind beside, fate had some care, }
But for poor Wit no portion did prepare, }
'Tis left a rent-charge to the brave and fair. }
You cherished it, and now its fall you mourn,
Which blind unmannered zealots make their scorn,
Who think that fire a judgment on the stage,
Which spared not temples[332] in its furious rage.
But as our new-built city rises higher, }
So from old theatres may new aspire, }
Since fate contrives magnificence by fire. }
Our great metropolis does far surpass
Whate'er is now, and equals all that was:
Our wit as far does foreign wit excel,
And, like a king, should in a palace dwell.
But we with golden hopes are vainly fed,
Talk high, and entertain you in a shed:
Your presence here, for which we humbly sue,
Will grace old theatres, and build up new.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 332: St Paul's, and other churches, were consumed in the
great fire, then a recent event. ]




PROLOGUE

FOR

THE WOMEN, WHEN THEY ACTED AT THE OLD THEATRE, LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS.


_Female performers were first introduced after the Restoration.
They became speedily acceptable to the court and the public.
The dramatic poets were in so many ways indebted to them, that
occasional exertions, dedicated to their benefit, as I presume the
following to have been, were but a suitable return for various
favours received. Our author's intimacy with the beautiful
Mrs Reeves particularly called forth his talents in behalf of
these damsels, distressed as they must have been by the unlucky
burning of the theatre in Drury-Lane. The Prologue occurs in the
Miscellanies; but is, I know not why, omitted by Derrick in his
edition of Dryden's poems. _

Were none of you, gallants, e'er driven so hard,
As when the poor kind soul was under guard,
And could not do't at home, in some by-street
To take a lodging, and in private meet?
Such is our case; we can't appoint our house,
The lovers' old and wonted rendezvous,
But hither to this trusty nook remove;
The worse the lodging is, the more the love.
For much good pastime, many a dear sweet hug,
Is stolen in garrets, on the humble rug.
Here's good accommodation in the pit;
The grave demurely in the midst may sit,
And so the hot Burgundian[333] on the side,
Ply vizard mask, and o'er the benches stride:
Here are convenient upper boxes too, }
For those that make the most triumphant show;}
All that keep coaches, must not sit below. }
There, gallants, you betwixt the acts retire,
And, at dull plays, have something to admire:
We, who look up, can your addresses mark,
And see the creatures coupled in the ark:
So we expect the lovers, braves, and wits;
The gaudy house with scenes[334] will serve for cits.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 333: That is, the consumer of Burgundy, or drunken bully of
the day. ]

[Footnote 334: Dorset-Garden theatre, where the Duke's company acted
various shewy pieces, directed by D'Avenant. ]




PROLOGUE

SPOKEN AT

THE OPENING OF THE NEW HOUSE,

MARCH 26, 1674.


_The Drury-Lane theatre, after being burned in_ 1671-2, _was rebuilt
upon a plan furnished by Sir Christopher Wren_, _who superintended
the execution_. _It is said to have been most admirably planned,
but spoiled by some injudicious alterations in the course of
building. The following Prologue informs us, that the exterior
decorations were plain and simple in comparison to those of the
rival house in Dorset Gardens, which, as repeatedly noticed, had
been splendidly fitted up under the direction of D'Avenant, noted
for his attachment to stage pomp and shew. It appears that Charles
II. , who was possessed of considerable taste, and did not disdain
to interest himself in the affairs of the drama, had himself
recommended to the King's company, the simplicity and frugality of
scenery and ornament to which the poet alludes. The other house
were not unapt to boast of the superior splendour which is here
conceded to them. In the epilogue to_ "_Psyche_" _the actors boast_,

----Gallants, you can tell,
No foreign stage can ours in pomp excel;
And here none e'er shall treat you half so well.
Poor players have this day such splendour shown,
Which yet but by great monarchs has been done.

_D'Avenant, by whom the Duke's company were long directed, was the
first who introduced regular scenery upon a public stage. His drama
of the "Siege of Rhodes" seems to have been the first exhibited
with these decorations. _--See MALONE'S Account of the English
Stage. "


A plain-built house, after so long a stay,
Will send you half unsatisfied away;
When, fallen from your expected pomp, you find
A bare convenience only is designed.
You, who each day can theatres behold,
Like Nero's palace, shining all with gold,
Our mean ungilded stage will scorn, we fear,
And, for the homely room, disdain the chear.
Yet now cheap druggets to a mode are grown, }
And a plain suit, since we can make but one, }
Is better than to be by tarnished gawdry known. }
They, who are by your favours wealthy made,
With mighty sums may carry on the trade;
We, broken bankers, half destroyed by fire, }
With our small stock to humble roofs retire;}
Pity our loss, while you their pomp admire. }
For fame and honour we no longer strive;
We yield in both, and only beg--to live;
Unable to support their vast expence,
Who build and treat with such magnificence,
That, like the ambitious monarchs of the age,
They give the law to our provincial stage.
Great neighbours enviously promote excess,
While they impose their splendour on the less;
But only fools, and they of vast estate, }
The extremity of modes will imitate, }
The dangling knee-fringe, and the bib-cravat,}
Yet if some pride with want may be allowed,
We in our plainness may be justly proud;
Our Royal Master willed it should be so;
Whate'er he's pleased to own, can need no show:
That sacred name gives ornament and grace,
And, like his stamp, makes basest metal pass.
'Twere folly now a stately pile to raise,
To build a playhouse while you throw down plays;
While scenes, machines, and empty operas reign,
And for the pencil you the pen disdain;
While troops of famished Frenchmen hither drive,
And laugh at those upon whose alms they live:
Old English authors vanish, and give place
To these new conquerors of the Norman race.
More tamely than your fathers you submit;
You're now grown vassals to them in your wit.
Mark, when they play, how our fine fops advance }
The mighty merits of their men of France, }
Keep time, cry, _Bon! _ and humour the cadence. }
Well, please yourselves; but sure 'tis understood,
That French machines have ne'er done England good. [335]
I would not prophecy our house's fate;
But while vain shows and scenes you over-rate,
'Tis to be feared----
That, as a fire the former house o'erthrew,
Machines and tempests[336] will destroy the new.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 335: St André, the famous ballet dancer, composed dances
for many operas about this time, which were probably performed by his
light-footed countrymen, at Dorset-Gardens. ]

[Footnote 336: "In 1673, the 'Tempest, or the Enchanted Island,'
made into an opera by Mr Shadwell, having all new in it, as scenes,
machines, &c. : one scene painted with myriads of ærial spirits; and
others flying away with a table furnished with fruits, sweetmeats, and
all sorts of viands, just when Duke Trinculo and his company were going
to dinner. All things were performed so admirably well, that not any
succeeding opera could get any money. "--_Roscius Anglicanus_, p. 34.
Shadwell had also, about this time, produced his opera of "Psyche,"
which, with the "Tempest" and other pieces depending chiefly upon shew
and scenery, were acting in Dorset-Garden, when this Prologue was
written. In order to ridicule these splendid exhibitions, the company
at Drury-Lane brought forward parodies on them, such as the "Mock
Tempest," "Psyche Debauched," &c. These pieces, though written in the
meanest style by one Duffet, a low buffoon, had a transient course of
success. ]




EPILOGUE

ON

THE SAME OCCASION.


Though what our Prologue said was sadly true,}
Yet, gentlemen, our homely house is new, }
A charm that seldom fails with wicked you. }
A country lip may have the velvet touch; }
Though she's no lady, you may think her such: }
A strong imagination may do much. }
But you, loud sirs, who through your curls look big,
Critics in plume and white vallancy wig,
Who, lolling, on our foremost benches sit,
And still charge first, the true forlorn of wit;
Whose favours, like the sun, warm where you roll,
Yet you, like him, have neither heat nor soul;
So may your hats your foretops never press,
Untouched your ribbons, sacred be your dress;
So may you slowly to old age advance,
And have the excuse of youth for ignorance;
So may fop-corner full of noise remain,
And drive far off the dull, attentive train;
So may your midnight scourings happy prove,
And morning batteries force your way to love;
So may not France your warlike hands recal,
But leave you by each others swords to fall,[337]
As you come here to ruffle vizard punk,
When sober rail, and roar when you are drunk.
But to the wits we can some merit plead,
And urge what by themselves has oft been said:
Our house relieves the ladies from the frights
Of ill-paved streets, and long dark winter nights;
The Flanders horses from a cold bleak road,
Where bears in furs dare scarcely look abroad;[338]
The audience from worn plays and fustian stuff,
Of rhime, more nauseous than three boys in buff. [339]
Though in their house the poets' heads[340] appear,
We hope we may presume their wits are here.
The best which they reserved they now will play, }
For, like kind cuckolds, though we've not the way }
To please, we'll find you abler men who may. }
If they should fail, for last recruits we breed }
A troop of frisking monsieurs to succeed: }
You know the French sure cards at time of need. }

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 337: This seems to be an allusion to the recent death of
Mr Scroop; a man of fortune, who, about this time, was stabbed in
the theatre at Dorset-Gardens by Sir Thomas Armstrong, afterwards
the confidential friend of the Duke of Monmouth. Langbaine says, he
witnessed this real tragedy, which happened during the representation
of "Macbeth," as altered and revised by D'Avenant in 1674. Mr Scroop
died immediately after his removal into a neighbouring house. ]

[Footnote 338: Alluding to the recent establishment in
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, then separated from the city by a large vacant
space. ]

[Footnote 339: "The three boys in buff," were, I believe, the three
Bold Beauchamps in an old ranting play:

"The three bold Beauchamps shall revive again,
And, with the London Prentice, conquer Spain. "
]

[Footnote 340: Some part of the ornaments of D'Avenant's scenes
probably presented the portraits of dramatic writers. ]




PROLOGUE

TO

THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1674.

SPOKEN BY MR HART.


_Hart, who had been a captain in the civil wars, belonged to
the King's company. He was an excellent actor, and particularly
celebrated in the character of Othello. He left the stage,
according to Cibber, on the union of the companies in_ 1686. _But it
appears from a paper published in a note on the article_ "_Betterton_"
_in the_ Biographia, _that he retired in_ 1681, _upon receiving a
pension from Dr D'Avenant_, _then manager of the Duke's company_,
_who in this manner bought off both Hart and Kynaston_, _and greatly
weakened the opposite set_.

Poets, your subjects, have their parts assigned,
To unbend, and to divert their sovereign's mind;
When tired with following nature, you think fit
To seek repose in the cool shades of wit,
And, from the sweet retreat, with joy survey
What rests, and what is conquered, of the way.
Here, free yourselves from envy, care, and strife,
You view the various turns of human life;
Safe in our scene, through dangerous courts you go,
And, undebauched, the vice of cities know.
Your theories are here to practice brought,
As in mechanic operations wrought;
And man, the little world, before you set,
As once the sphere of crystal[341] shewed the great.
Blest sure are you above all mortal kind,
If to your fortunes you can suit your mind;
Content to see, and shun, those ills we show,
And crimes on theatres alone to know.
With joy we bring what our dead authors writ,
And beg from you the value of their wit:
That Shakespeare's, Fletcher's, and great Jonson's claim,
May be renewed from those who gave them fame.
None of our living poets dare appear;
For muses so severe are worshipped here,
That, conscious of their faults, they shun the eye, }
And, as profane, from sacred places fly, }
Rather than see the offended God, and die. }
We bring no imperfections, but our own;
Such faults as made are by the makers shown;
And you have been so kind, that we may boast,
The greatest judges still can pardon most.
Poets must stoop, when they would please our pit,
Debased even to the level of their wit;
Disdaining that, which yet they know will take,
Hating themselves what their applause must make.
But when to praise from you they would aspire,
Though they, like eagles, mount, your Jove is higher.
So far your knowledge all their power transcends,
As what should be, beyond what is, extends.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 341: Its properties are thus described by Spenser:

It vertue had to show in perfect sight
Whatever thing was in the world contained,
Betwixt the lowest earth and heaven's height,
So that it to the looker appertained.
Whatever foe had wrought, or friend designed,
Therein discovered was ne ought mote pass,
Ne ought in secret from the same remained,
Forthy it round, and hollow-shaped was,
Like to the world itself, and seemed a world of glass.

Such was the glassy globe that Merlin made,
And gave unto King Ryence for his guard.

_Fairy Queen_, Book iii. Canto 2.
]




EPILOGUE

SPOKEN

AT OXFORD, BY MRS MARSHALL.


_The date of this Epilogue is fixed by that of Bathurst's
vice-chancellorship_, _which lasted from 3d October_, 1673, _to 9th
October_ 1675.

Oft has our poet wished, this happy seat
Might prove his fading muse's last retreat:
I wondered at his wish, but now I find
He sought for quiet, and content of mind;
Which noiseful towns, and courts, can never know,
And only in the shades, like laurels, grow.
Youth, ere it sees the world, here studies rest,
And age, returning thence, concludes it best.
What wonder if we court that happiness
Yearly to share, which hourly you possess,
Teaching e'en you, while the vext world we show,
Your peace to value more, and better know?
'Tis all we can return for favours past,
Whose holy memory shall ever last,
For patronage from him whose care presides
O'er every noble art, and every science guides;[342]
Bathurst, a name the learned with reverence know,
And scarcely more to his own Virgil owe;
Whose age enjoys but what his youth deserved,
To rule those muses whom before he served.
His learning, and untainted manners too,
We find, Athenians, are derived to you;
Such antient hospitality there rests }
In yours, as dwelt in the first Grecian breasts, }
Whose kindness was religion to their guests. }
Such modesty did to our sex appear, }
As, had there been no laws, we need not fear, }
Since each of you was our protector here. }
Converse so chaste, and so strict virtue shown,
As might Apollo with the muses own.
Till our return, we must despair to find
Judges so just, so knowing, and so kind.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 342: Ralph Bathurst, thus highly distinguished by our author,
was a distinguished character of the age. He was uncle to Allen, the
first Lord Bathurst. He was born in 1620, and bred to the church, but
abandoned divinity for the pursuit of medicine, which he practised
until the Restoration, when he resumed his clerical character. In 1663
he became head of Trinity college, Oxford, into the court and chapel
of which he introduced the beauties of classical architecture, to
rival, if it were possible, the magnificence of the Gothic edifices
by which it is surrounded. In 1673, he had the honour to be appointed
vice-chancellor; an office which he retained for two years. During
his execution of this duty he is said to have reformed many abuses
which had crept into the university; and by liberal benefactions
added considerably to the prosperity of literature. Anthony Wood, who
had some private reason for disliking him, and who, moreover, was as
determined an enemy to the fair sex as ever harboured in a cloister,
picked a quarrel with Bathurst's wife, as he could find no reasonable
fault with the vice-chancellor himself. "Dr Bathurst took his place
of vice-chancellor; a man of good parts, and able to do good things;
but he has a wife that scorns that he should be in print; a scornful
woman! scorns that he was dean of Wells: no need of marrying such a
woman, who is so conceited, that she thinks herself fit to govern a
college, or university. "--Perhaps the countenance given by Bathurst
to the theatre, for which Dryden here expresses his gratitude, might
not tend to conciliate the good will of Anthony, who quarrelled
with his sister-in-law by refusing to treat her to the play. But it
agreed well with the character of Bathurst, who was not only a patron
of literature in all its branches, but himself an excellent Latin
poet, as his verses prefixed to Hobbes' "Leviathan," fully testify;
and as good an English poet as most of his contemporaries. He died
in his eighty-fourth year, 1704. Warton has given us the following
character of his Latin compositions, for which Dryden has celebrated
him so highly: "His Latin orations are wonderful specimens of wit and
antithesis, which were the delight of his age. They want, upon the
whole, the purity and simplicity of Tully's eloquence, but even exceed
the sententious smartness of Seneca, and the surprising turns of Pliny.
They are perpetually spirited, and discover an uncommon quickness of
thought. The manner is concise and abrupt, but yet perspicuous and
easy: His allusions are delicate, and his observations sensible and
animated; his sentiments of congratulation, or indignation, are equally
forcible: his compliments are most elegantly turned, and his satire is
most ingeniously severe. These compositions are extremely agreeable to
read, but, in the present improvement of classical taste, not so proper
to be imitated. "--_Life of Bathurst, prefixed to his Literary Remains,
published under the inspection of Mr Warton. _]




ORIGINAL

PROLOGUE TO CIRCE,

BY

DR CHARLES D'AVENANT, 1675.


_Dr Charles D'Avenant, the author of "Circe," was son of the
Rare Sir William D'Avenant, whom he succeeded as manager of the
Duke's company. He practised physic in Doctor's Commons, which
he afterwards abandoned for politics. He became a member of
Parliament, and inspector of the exports and imports, of which
office he died possessed in_ 1714. _He wrote many tracts upon
political subjects, especially those connected with the revenue.
"Circe," his only drama, is an opera, to which Bannister composed
the music. Besides the Prologue by our author, it was honoured by
an Epilogue by the famous Rochester, and thus graced was received
favourably. It contains some good writing, considering it was
composed at the age of nineteen; a circumstance alluded to in the
following Prologue. The original Prologue is from the 4to edition
of "_Circe_," _London_, 1677. _It was afterwards much improved, or
rather entirely re-written, by our author. _

Were you but half so wise as you're severe,
Our youthful poet should not need to fear;
To his green years your censures you would suit,
Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit.
The sex, that best does pleasure understand,
Will always chuse to err on t'other hand.
They check not him that's aukward in delight,
But clap the young rogue's cheek, and set him right.
Thus heartened well, and fleshed upon his prey,
The youth may prove a man another day.
For your own sakes, instruct him when he's out,
You'll find him mend his work at every bout.
When some young lusty thief is passing by, }
How many of your tender kind will cry,-- }
"A proper fellow! pity he should die! }
He might be saved, and thank us for our pains,
There's such a stock of love within his veins. "
These arguments the women may persuade,
But move not you, the brothers of the trade,
Who, scattering your infection through the pit, }
With aching hearts and empty purses sit, }
To take your dear five shillings worth of wit. }
The praise you give him, in your kindest mood,
Comes dribbling from you, just like drops of blood;
And then you clap so civilly, for fear
The loudness might offend your neighbour's ear,
That we suspect your gloves are lined within,
For silence sake, and cotton'd next the skin.
From these usurpers we appeal to you,
The only knowing, only judging few;
You, who in private have this play allowed,
Ought to maintain your suffrage to the crowd.
The captive, once submitted to your bands,
You should protect from death by vulgar hands.




PROLOGUE TO CIRCE,

AS CORRECTED BY DRYDEN.


Were you but half so wise as you're severe,
Our youthful poet should not need to fear;
To his green years your censures you would suit,
Not blast the blossom, but expect the fruit.
The sex, that best does pleasure understand,
Will always choose to err on t'other hand.
They check not him that's aukward in delight,
But clap the young rogue's cheek, and set him right.
Thus heartened well, and fleshed upon his prey,
The youth may prove a man another day.
Your Ben and Fletcher, in their first young flight,
Did no Volpone, nor no Arbaces write;[343]
But hopped about, and short excursions made }
From bough to bough, as if they were afraid, }
And each was guilty of some Slighted Maid. [344] }
Shakespeare's own muse her Pericles first bore;[345]
The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor:
'Tis miracle to see a first good play;
All hawthorns do not bloom on Christmas-day. [346]
A slender poet must have time to grow,
And spread and burnish as his brothers do.
Who still looks lean, sure with some pox is curst,
But no man can be Falstaff-fat at first.
Then damn not, but indulge his rude essays,
Encourage him, and bloat him up with praise,
That he may get more bulk before he dies;
He's not yet fed enough for sacrifice.
Perhaps, if now your grace you will not grudge,
He may grow up to write, and you to judge.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 343: Characters in Jonson's "Volpone," and Fletcher's "King
and no King," which plays are justly held the master-pieces of these
authors. ]

[Footnote 344: The "Slighted Maid" was a contemporary drama, written
by Sir Richard Stapylton, of which Dryden elsewhere takes occasion
to speak in terms of contempt. See the _Parallel betwixt Poetry and
Painting_. ]

[Footnote 345: This opinion seems to be solely founded on the
inferiority of "Pericles," to the other plays of Shakspeare; an
inferiority so great, as to warrant very strong doubts of its being the
legitimate offspring of his muse at all. ]

[Footnote 346: Alluding to the legend of the Glastonbury thorn,
supposed to bloom on Christmas day. ]




EPILOGUE

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN BY

THE LADY HEN. MAR. WENTWORTH.

WHEN CALISTO WAS ACTED AT COURT, IN 1675.


"_Calisto, or the Chaste Nymph_," _was a masque written by John
Crowne, who, by the interference of Rochester, was employed to
compose such an entertainment to be exhibited at court, though this
was an encroachment on the office of Dryden, the poet laureat.
The principal characters were represented by the daughters of the
Duke of York, and the first nobility. The Lady Mary, afterwards
Queen, to whom the masque was dedicated, acted Calisto; Nyphe was
represented by the Lady Anne, who also succeeded to the throne;
Jupiter, by Lady Harriot Wentworth; Psecas, by Lady Mary Mordaunt;
Diana, by Mrs Blague, and Mercury by Mrs Sarah Jennings, afterwards
Duchess of Marlborough. Among the attendant nymphs and dancers were
the Countesses of Pembroke and of Derby, Lady Catharine Herbert,
Mrs Fitzgerald, and Mrs Fraser. The male dancers were the Duke
of Monmouth, Viscount Dunblaine, Lord Daincourt, and others of
the first quality. Although the exhibition of this masque, which
it was the privilege of his office to have written, must have
been somewhat galling to Dryden, we see that he so far suppressed
his feelings as to compose the following Epilogue, which, to his
farther mortification, was rejected, through the interference of
Rochester. _

_The Lady Henrietta Maria Wentworth, Baroness of Nettlested, who
acted the part of Jupiter on the present occasion, afterwards
adapted her conduct to that of Calisto, and became the mistress of
the Duke of Monmouth. He was so passionately attached to her, that
upon the scaffold he vindicated their intercourse by some very warm
and enthusiastic expressions, and could by no means be prevailed on
to express any repentance of it as unlawful. This lady died about
a year after the execution of her unfortunate lover_, _in_ 1685.
_Her mother, Lady Wentworth, ordered a monument of L. _ 2000 _value
to be erected over her in the church of Teddington, Bedfordshire. _

As Jupiter I made my court in vain;
I'll now assume my native shape again.
I'm weary to be so unkindly used,
And would not be a God, to be refused.
State grows uneasy when it hinders love;
A glorious burden, which the wise remove.
Now, as a nymph, I need not sue, nor try
The force of any lightning but the eye.
Beauty and youth, more than a god command;
No Jove could e'er the force of these withstand.
'Tis here that sovereign power admits dispute;
Beauty sometimes is justly absolute.
Our sullen Cato's, whatsoe'er they say,
Even while they frown and dictate laws, obey.
You, mighty sir, our bonds more easy make,
And, gracefully, what all must suffer, take;
Above those forms the grave affect to wear,
For 'tis not to be wise to be severe.
True wisdom may some gallantry admit,
And soften business with the charms of wit.
These peaceful triumphs with your cares you bought,
And from the midst of fighting nations brought. [347]
You only hear it thunder from afar,
And sit, in peace, the arbiter of war:
Peace, the loathed manna, which hot brains despise,
You knew its worth, and made it early prize;
And in its happy leisure, sit and see
The promises of more felicity;
Two glorious nymphs of your own godlike line,
Whose morning rays, like noontide, strike and shine;[348]
Whom you to suppliant monarchs shall dispose,
To bind your friends, and to disarm your foes.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 347: The war between France and the confederates was now
raging on the Continent. ]

[Footnote 348: The glorious nymphs, afterwards Queens Anne and Mary,
both lived to exclude their own father and his son from the throne.
Derrick, I suppose, alluded to this circumstance, when in the next line
he read _supplant_ for _suppliant_ monarchs. ]




EPILOGUE

TO THE

MAN OF MODE; OR SIR FOPLING FLUTTER.

BY

SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE, 1676.


_This play, which long maintained a high degree of reputation
on the stage, presents us with the truest picture of what was
esteemed good breeding and wit in the reign of Charles II. All
the characters, from Dorimant down to the Shoemaker, were either
really drawn from the life, or depicted so accurately according
to the manners of the times, that each was instantly ascribed to
some individual. Sir Fopling Flutter, in particular, was supposed
to represent Sir George Hewit, mentioned in the Essay on Satire,
and who seems to have been one of the most choice coxcombs of
the period. A very severe criticism in the_ Spectator, _pointing
out the coarseness as well as the immorality of this celebrated
performance, had a great effect in diminishing its popularity. The
satire being in fact personal, it followed as a matter of course,
that the Prologue should disclaim all personality, that being an
attribute to be discovered by the audience, but not avowed by
the poet. Dryden has accomplished this with much liveliness, and
enumerates for our edification the special fopperies which went
to make up a complete fine gentleman in_ 1676--_differing only in
form from those required in_ 1806, _excepting that the ancient beau
needed, to complete his character, a slight sprinkling of literary
accomplishment, which the modern has discarded with the "_sacred
periwig_. "_

Most modern wits such monstrous fools have shown,
They seem not of heaven's making, but their own.
Those nauseous Harlequins in farce may pass;
But there goes more to a substantial ass:
Something of man must be exposed to view,
That, gallants, they may more resemble you.
Sir Fopling is a fool so nicely writ,
The ladies would mistake him for a wit;
And, when he sings, talks loud, and cocks, would cry,
I vow, methinks, he's pretty company!
So brisk, so gay, so travelled, so refined,
As he took pains to graff upon his kind.
True fops help nature's work, and go to school,
To file and finish God Almighty's fool.
Yet none Sir Fopling him, or him can call;
He's knight o' the shire, and represents ye all.
From each he meets he culls whate'er he can;
Legion's his name, a people in a man.
His bulky folly gathers as it goes,
And, rolling o'er you, like a snow-ball, grows.
His various modes from various fathers follow;
One taught the toss, and one the new French wallow;
His sword-knot this, his cravat that designed;
And this the yard-long snake he twirls behind.
From one the sacred periwig he gained,
Which wind ne'er blew, nor touch of hat profaned.
Another's diving bow he did adore,
Which with a shog casts all the hair before,
Till he, with full decorum, brings it back,
And rises with a water-spaniel shake.
As for his songs, the ladies' dear delight,
These sure he took from most of you who write.
Yet every man is safe from what he feared;
For no one fool is hunted from the herd.




EPILOGUE

TO

MITHRIDATES, KING OF PONTUS.

BY

MR N. LEE, 1678.


_This, as appears from the Prologue preserved in the Luttrell
collection, was the first play acted in the season_, 1698-9. _It has,
like all Lee's productions, no small share of bombast, with some
strikingly beautiful passages. _

You've seen a pair of faithful lovers die; }
And much you care; for most of you will cry, }
'Twas a just judgment on their constancy. }
For, heaven be thanked, we live in such an age,
When no man dies for love, but on the stage:
And e'en those martyrs are but rare in plays;
A cursed sign how much true faith decays.
Love is no more a violent desire;
'Tis a mere metaphor, a painted fire.
In all our sex, the name examined well,
'Tis pride to gain, and vanity to tell.
In woman, 'tis of subtle interest made;
Curse on the punk, that made it first a trade!
She first did wit's prerogative remove,
And made a fool presume to prate of love.
Let honour and preferment go for gold,
But glorious beauty is not to be sold;
Or, if it be, 'tis at a rate so high,
That nothing but adoring it should buy.
Yet the rich cullies may their boasting spare;
They purchase but sophisticated ware.
'Tis prodigality that buys deceit,
Where both the giver and the taker cheat.
Men but refine on the old half-crown way;
And women fight, like Swissers, for their pay.




PROLOGUE

TO

THE TRUE WIDOW, 1679.


At this period Shadwell and our author were on such good terms, that
Dryden obliged him with the following Prologue to the "True Widow;" a
play intended to display the humours of various men of the town. Thus
we have in the Dramatis Personæ,--

"_Selfish. _ A coxcomb, conceited of his beauty, wit, and breeding,
thinking all women in love with him, always admiring and talking to
himself.

_Old Maggot. _ An old, credulous fellow; a great enemy to wit, and a
lover of business for business-sake.

_Young Maggot. _ His nephew: an inns-of-court man, who neglects law,
and runs mad after wit, pretending much to love, and both in spite of
nature, since his face makes him unfit for one, and his brains for the
other.

_Prig. _ A coxcomb, who never thinks or talks of any thing but dogs,
horses, hunting, hawking, bowls, tennis, and gaming; a rook, a most
noisy jockey.

_Lump. _ A methodical coxcomb, as regular as a clock, and goes as true
as a pendulum; one that knows what he shall do every day of his life by
his almanack, where he sets down all his actions before-hand; a mortal
enemy to wit. "

* * * * *

So many characters, so minutely described, lead us to suppose, that
some personal satire lay concealed under them; and, accordingly,
the Prologue seems to have been written with a view of deprecating
the resentment which this idea might have excited in the audience.
We learn, however, by the Preface, that the piece was unfavourably
received, "either through the calamity of the time (during the Popish
plot), which made people not care for diversions, or through the anger
of a great many who thought themselves concerned in the satire. " The
piece is far from being devoid of merit; and the characters, though
drawn in Shadwell's coarse, harsh manner, are truly comic. That of
the jockey, since so popular, seems to have been brought upon the
stage for the first time in the "True Widow. " It is remarkable, that,
though Dryden writes the Prologue, the piece contains a sly hit at
him. Maggot, finding himself married to a portionless jilt, says, "I
must e'en write hard for the play-house; I may get the reversion of
the poet-laureat's place. " This, however, might be only meant as a
good-humoured pleasantry among friends.

After the deadly quarrel with Shadwell, our author seems to have
resumed his property in the Prologue, as it is prefixed to "The Widow
Ranter, or The History of Bacon in Virginia," a tragi-comedy by Mrs
Behn, acted in 1690.




PROLOGUE

TO

THE TRUE WIDOW.

BY

THOMAS SHADWELL, 1679.


Heaven save ye, gallants, and this hopeful age!
Y'are welcome to the downfall of the stage.
The fools have laboured long in their vocation,
And vice, the manufacture of the nation,
O'erstocks the town so much, and thrives so well,
That fops and knaves grow drugs, and will not sell.
In vain our wares on theatres are shown,
When each has a plantation of his own.
His cause ne'er fails; for whatsoe'er he spends,
There's still God's plenty for himself and friends.
Should men be rated by poetic rules,
Lord, what a poll would there be raised from fools!
Meantime poor wit prohibited must lie,
As if 'twere made some French commodity.
Fools you will have, and raised at vast expence;
And yet, as soon as seen, they give offence.
Time was, when none would cry,--That oaf was me;
But now you strive about your pedigree.
Bauble and cap[349] no sooner are thrown down,
But there's a muss[350] of more than half the town.
Each one will challenge a child's part at least;
A sign the family is well encreased.
Of foreign cattle there's no longer need,
When we're supplied so fast with English breed.
Well! flourish, countrymen; drink, swear, and roar;
Let every free-born subject keep his whore,
And wandering in the wilderness about,
At end of forty years not wear her out.
But when you see these pictures, let none dare
To own beyond a limb, or single share;
For where the punk is common, he's a sot,
Who needs will father what the parish got.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 349: The fool's cap and bauble, with which the ancient jester
was equipped. ]

[Footnote 350: A scramble.