Prologue

New to the Stage—By no past Praises fir'd, Young, and unfam'd, and, but, by Hope, inspir'd: Raise us to reach that Hope's ambitious Call, Or, with soft Pity; break our threaten'd Fall. Small, tho' our Merit be, your Minds are Great, And undeserv'd Applause may Worth create. Sweetness sits, smiling, where the Heart beats true, And they praise most, to whom most Praise is due.

Low let me court ye, to befriend our Cause! If Justice pleads not, gen'rous Pity draws. In a full World, our Author lives, Alone! Unhappy—and, of Consequence, unknown; Yet, amidst Sorrow, he disdains Complaint: Nor, languid, in the Race of Life, grows faint. He swims, unyielding, against Fortune's Stream, Nor, to his private Suff'rings, stoops his Theme: Adopts the Pains, which others undergo; And, for your Pleasure, feels not his own Woe.

They shou'd, themselves, be pleas'd, who love to please; And he, who fears not Mis'ry, merits Ease. Oh!—save unfriended Virtue from Distress— 'Tis the Divine Prerogative—to bless!

Sad, for the Tragic Scene, your Hearts prepare, Where Love kills Friendship, and awakes Despair; Where cherish'd Mischiefs tow'r above Controul, And warring Passions rend the tortur'd Soul!

Taught by the pictur'd Woes, which weep, to-night, Let long-weigh'd Caution guide your Wishes right; Slow, thro' your Eyes, give smiling Ruin Way; Love, by That Pass, but enters to betray! Beauty fades fast—nor will its transient Grace Sooth the sick Bosom, when the Thought takes Place.

But, when Twin Souls each other's Transport claim, And pant, and burn, and twist their struggling Flame, Safe, let 'em meet, by no false Fears oppress'd; Form'd to be one, and, till rejoin'd, unbless'd!