OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, On opening the THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET, May 31, 1783. Spoken by Mr. PALMER

Of real Novelty, we're told, there's none, We know there's nothing new beneath the Sun. Yet still, untir'd, a Phantom we pursue, Still expectation gapes for something new! To whet your appetite, and pique your taste, Each Bard serves some old dish in new Puff-Paste; Crams with hard crusts the Literary Glutton, And like, Lord Peter, swears they're Beef and Mutton. Old Magazines each Manager too plunders, Like Quacks and Mountebanks cries, Wonders! Wonders! Detection scorns! risks contradictions flat; Boasts a Black Swan! and gives us—a Black Cat! Two Magpies, thus, all Winter charms the ear; The self-same note our Cuckow dwells on here! For We, like Them, our Penny Trumpets sound, And Novelty's the word the whole year round. What tho' our house be threescore years of age, Let us new-vamp the Box, new-lay the Stage, Long paragraphs shall paint with proud parade The gilded front and airy balustrade; While on each post, the flaming bill displays Our Old New Theatre, and New-Old Plays.

The Hag of Fashion thus all paint and flounces, Fills up her wrinkles, and her age renounces. Stage answers Stage: from other boards, as here, Have Sense and Nonsense claim'd by turns your ear. Here late his jests Sir Jeffrey Dunstan broke; Yet here too Lillo's Muse sublimely spoke; Here Fielding, foremost of the hum'rous train, In Comick Mask indulg'd his laughing vein! Here frolick Foote your favour well could beg, Propt by his genuine Wit, and only Leg; Their humble follower feels his merit less, Yet feels, and proudly boasts, as much success. Small though his talents, smaller than his size, Beneath your smiles his little Lares rise: And, oh! as Jove once grac'd Philemon's Thatch, Oft of our Cottage may You lift the latch! Oft may we greet you, full of hope and fear, With hearty welcome, though but homely cheer! May our old roof its old success maintain, Nor know the Novelty of your disdain!