OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, To the TRAGEDY of TANCRED and SIGISMUNDA, and the COMEDY of the GUARDIAN, revived at the…

If anxious for his Sigismunda's fate, Your Tancred for awhile foregoes his state; If, like Prince Prettyman, he risques your scoff, Half-buskin'd—one boot on, and t'other off; You, who can judge a young advent'rer's fears, You, who've oft felt a female's sighs and tears, Will hear a suppliant, who for mercy sues, Courting your favour through the Tragick Muse.

Across the vast Atlantick she was led, With blank-verse, blood-bowls, daggers, in her head! And as she past in storms the Western Ocean, Felt her rapt soul, like that, in wild commotion! But now an awful calm succeeds; and draws, In this dread interval, a solemn pause. Within these seas, what various peril shocks! Dire Critick shoals, and Actor-marring rocks! Alas! no chart or compass she can boast; Yet runs her vessel on a dangerous coast— That coast, where late, in spite of ev'ry sand, A greater Sigismunda gain'd the land. Yet Britain ever hails the cloth unfurl'd, And opens her free ports to all the world: Majestick navies in her harbours ride, Skiffs, snows, and frigates anchor by their side: And oh! may now, with no unprosp'rous gale, The Sigismunda spread her little sail! And while the Kemble follows fast behind, A Guardian in her Sister's fame she'll find.