If not, I take a pinch of snuff,

And wonder where you got fuch stuff.

That done, a-gape the critics fit, Expectant of the comic wit.

The fiddlers play again pell-mell,

But hift!—the prompter rings his bell.

Down there! hats off!-the curtain draws!—

7

PRO

PROLOGUE

To the JEALOUS WIFE.

Spoken by Mr. GARRICK.

THE

HE JEALOUS WIFE! a Comedy! poor man! A charming fubject! but a wretched plan. His fkittish wit, o'erleaping the due bound, Commits flat trespass upon tragic ground.. Quarrels, upbraidings, jealoufies, and spleen, Grow too familiar in the comic scene.. Tinge but the language with heroic chime, 'Tis Paffion, Pathos, Character, Sublime! What round big words had fwell'd the pompous fcene, A king the husband, and the wife a queen! Then might Distraction rend her graceful hair, See fightless forms, and scream, and gape, and stare. Drawcanfir death had rag'd without controul, Here the drawn dagger, there the poison'd bowl.

What

What eyes had ftream'd at all the whining woe! What hands had thunder'd at each Hah! and Oh!

But peace! the gentle prologue custom fends,
Like drum and ferjeant, to beat up for friends.
At vice and folly, each a lawful game,

Our author flies, but with no partial aim.
He read the manners, open as they lie
In nature's volume to the general eye.

Books too he read, nor blush'd to use their store.
He does but what his betters did before.
Shakespeare has done it, and the Grecian stage
Caught truth of character from Homer's page.

If in his scenes an honeft skill is fhewn,
And borrowing, little, much appears his own;
If what a master's happy pencil drew
He brings more forward, in dramatic view;
To your decifion he fubmits his cause,
Secure of candour, anxious for applause.

But

But if, all rude, his artless scenes deface
The fimple beauties which he meant to grace;
If, an invader upon others land,

He spoil and plunder with a robber's hand,
Do justice on him! As on fools before,
And give to Blockheads paft one Blockhead more.

The

The Nightingale, the Owl, and the Cuckow.

A F FABLE.

Addreffed to DAVID GARRICK, Efq.

On the report of his retiring from the stage, Dec. 1760,

C

RITICS, who like the scarecrows ftand

Upon the poet's common land,

And with severity of sense,

Drive all imagination thence,

Say that in truth lies all fublime,

Whether you write in profe or rhyme.

And yet the truth

may

lofe its grace,

If blurted to a perfon's face;

Efpecially, if what you speak

Shou'd crimson o'er the glowing cheek:
For when you throw that flaver o'er him,
And tumble out your praise before him,
However just the application,

It looks a-fquint at adulation.

I would