Prologue

Some eau de luce! Your fans, dear ladies, pray! Strait from Parnassus—'tis a dev'lish way! I might have strode our Pegasus's back, But the poor devil's grown so mere a hack; So often call'd upon—taught such strange paces, That alter'd woefully, alack, his case is! In former times, but once or twice a-year The fiery steed was summon'd to appear; Then in elegiac pas grave seen dancing, Or in a comedy-curvet came prancing: A tragedy each spring, a birth-day ode, Was all his bus'ness on the Muse's road: But now, such hurrying, helter-skelter work— Each cart-horse moves with a genteeler jirk; So—in a word, your patience not t' abuse, We've sent our Pegasus to learn of Hughes.

My business here?—Plainly and flatly this— To beg your Honours not to frown or hiss. Thalia sent me, and it makes me sad, For "entre nous, (says I) the thing is bad." "Tut, fool!" the Muse replies—"this powder take, "Long I've reserv'd it for a last dear stake— "This powder take—dear Mercury, be quick"— Here 'tis—a mighty spell, in this slim stick. Scarce had she left me, when Melpomé came— "Jove's Messenger, (says she) I'm in a flame! "I know where Thal' has sent you—never sham it, "But bribe 'em, God of Thieves! bribe 'em to damn it!" "No, Madam, damn me, if I do!" I cry'd— She aim'd a blow, I bow'd, and hither hied.

Now for my spell— There 'tis—I see it spread! 'Tis felt in ev'ry heart—in ev'ry head! Now shall you fancy character and wit; Taste in the boxes, humour in the pit. You'll fancy, friends, that 'tis so droll and funny— And you, that you've some substance for your money: But should the charm dissolve e'er the play ends, Oh! for Thalia's sake, be yet its friends!