Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
POETRY .
PROLOGUE , TO FORTUNE ' S FOOL , W [' . ITTi :. N BY W . T . FITZGERALD , Eso . KPflKKN BY Mil . TOMS .
To each new Play a Prologue must appear , fYear—Like Poet Laureat ' s Ode to each New-Hut here , at once , the simile must end , Chance is the Laureat's , not the Prologue ' s Friend : He may anticipate the coming hour , By the " prophetic M use ' s magic pow'r ;
But we , like shewmcn , trumpet forth nur ware , [ Fare ; Promise you feasts ; but shew no Bill of Bound down to secrecy , we must not say One word upon the subject of the Play . Yet for our Author this I dare impart , He bears your former favours next his heart—And though the course lie steers to-niht
g be new-, He fears no quicksands , piloted by you ; . ' Whose powerful aid , and still sustaining hand / Have erer brought his little bark to line ] , And moor'd her where his hope begins and ends ,
Safe in the haven of his gen ' rous friends . Perhaps these crowded benches may contain Some who ' ve been fool'd in Fortune ' s giddy train ! Some who , with ceaseless toil , pursuing wealth . Have gain'd their object , but have lost "
theirhealth ; [ bestow And prov'd , at let gth , tii . it gold c .: ii ne'er A balm for sickness , or a shield for woe : Some , who ambitious of a lieeir . g name , Have barter'd Happiness , and Peace for Fame-^ . ¦ [ school , And found too late , in Disappointment ' s Kmv oft Ambition makes us Port line ' s Fool .
Our Author en Thalia's treasury draws—An annual Candida e for your applause ! Which , like the fresh'ning dews of rising morn , Hangs , through his life , a gem on ev ' ry thorn ! To-night , once more , his fate on you del-ends , [ friends I His gen ' rous patrons , arid his " pow ' rful VOL . VIII .
Poetry.
'Twas you who brighlen'd , up his early day , And " now to independence lead the way ! The curtain dropp'd , he'll prove , if you have smsl'd , Not Fortune's Fool , but Fortune ' s fav ' - rite Child !
Epilogue, To The Same,
EPILOGUE , TO THE SAME ,
WRITTEN" BY M . P . ANDREWS , ESQ . SPOKEN BY MHS . MATTOCKS . £ A Chair , Table , and Lady ' s Work-bag . ] ONCE more I comeyour favouring smile
, to catch , Mvseli I offer now—say , is't a match ? No partial flame I feel , for great or small ; I love you roundly—and will take ' you ' all :--Perhaps you think me bold , to court the men ; If I do but nine in ten
so , copy ; Like high-drest mi ' s ^ es , to attract the beaux , Each g . ace of Art , and Nature too expose ; Yet , as I only trust to mental charms , And bare no elbows , bosom , knee , or arms ; My frankness , 1 without a biush may boast , You can but say , that I ' m bare-fae'd at most .
But hold , true woman , fond of selfish ' prattle , I fight my own , hut notour Author ' s battle ;• He , trembling Dramatist , of Notoriety , To Speculation fears to add satiety ;' Oft he has tried your patience heretofore ; Shall he not try ii now a little more ? Of that , and of your kindness , nothing
loth , He gives you ample room to practise both : Sweet Pa ' . ience ! long they exercise thy pow ' rs , In cither houses , 'full as much as ours : — See anxious Trepidation , how il flushes , The virgin member , with his maiden blushes ! He lakes his seat [ JI ' . ' J- down in chair } and
all his troubles past , The long expected moment conies at last ; He rises , [ gets tip ] twirls his hat , hems , strokes his ' chin , Probes hii cravat , and ventures to begin—S
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
POETRY .
PROLOGUE , TO FORTUNE ' S FOOL , W [' . ITTi :. N BY W . T . FITZGERALD , Eso . KPflKKN BY Mil . TOMS .
To each new Play a Prologue must appear , fYear—Like Poet Laureat ' s Ode to each New-Hut here , at once , the simile must end , Chance is the Laureat's , not the Prologue ' s Friend : He may anticipate the coming hour , By the " prophetic M use ' s magic pow'r ;
But we , like shewmcn , trumpet forth nur ware , [ Fare ; Promise you feasts ; but shew no Bill of Bound down to secrecy , we must not say One word upon the subject of the Play . Yet for our Author this I dare impart , He bears your former favours next his heart—And though the course lie steers to-niht
g be new-, He fears no quicksands , piloted by you ; . ' Whose powerful aid , and still sustaining hand / Have erer brought his little bark to line ] , And moor'd her where his hope begins and ends ,
Safe in the haven of his gen ' rous friends . Perhaps these crowded benches may contain Some who ' ve been fool'd in Fortune ' s giddy train ! Some who , with ceaseless toil , pursuing wealth . Have gain'd their object , but have lost "
theirhealth ; [ bestow And prov'd , at let gth , tii . it gold c .: ii ne'er A balm for sickness , or a shield for woe : Some , who ambitious of a lieeir . g name , Have barter'd Happiness , and Peace for Fame-^ . ¦ [ school , And found too late , in Disappointment ' s Kmv oft Ambition makes us Port line ' s Fool .
Our Author en Thalia's treasury draws—An annual Candida e for your applause ! Which , like the fresh'ning dews of rising morn , Hangs , through his life , a gem on ev ' ry thorn ! To-night , once more , his fate on you del-ends , [ friends I His gen ' rous patrons , arid his " pow ' rful VOL . VIII .
Poetry.
'Twas you who brighlen'd , up his early day , And " now to independence lead the way ! The curtain dropp'd , he'll prove , if you have smsl'd , Not Fortune's Fool , but Fortune ' s fav ' - rite Child !
Epilogue, To The Same,
EPILOGUE , TO THE SAME ,
WRITTEN" BY M . P . ANDREWS , ESQ . SPOKEN BY MHS . MATTOCKS . £ A Chair , Table , and Lady ' s Work-bag . ] ONCE more I comeyour favouring smile
, to catch , Mvseli I offer now—say , is't a match ? No partial flame I feel , for great or small ; I love you roundly—and will take ' you ' all :--Perhaps you think me bold , to court the men ; If I do but nine in ten
so , copy ; Like high-drest mi ' s ^ es , to attract the beaux , Each g . ace of Art , and Nature too expose ; Yet , as I only trust to mental charms , And bare no elbows , bosom , knee , or arms ; My frankness , 1 without a biush may boast , You can but say , that I ' m bare-fae'd at most .
But hold , true woman , fond of selfish ' prattle , I fight my own , hut notour Author ' s battle ;• He , trembling Dramatist , of Notoriety , To Speculation fears to add satiety ;' Oft he has tried your patience heretofore ; Shall he not try ii now a little more ? Of that , and of your kindness , nothing
loth , He gives you ample room to practise both : Sweet Pa ' . ience ! long they exercise thy pow ' rs , In cither houses , 'full as much as ours : — See anxious Trepidation , how il flushes , The virgin member , with his maiden blushes ! He lakes his seat [ JI ' . ' J- down in chair } and
all his troubles past , The long expected moment conies at last ; He rises , [ gets tip ] twirls his hat , hems , strokes his ' chin , Probes hii cravat , and ventures to begin—S