PROLOGUE,

Upon the Revival of the AUTHOR'S Farce.

Spoken by Mrs CLIVE.

S when fome ancient, hofpitable seat,

Where plenty oft has giv'n the jovial treat,

Where in full bowls each welcome guest has drown'd

All forrowing thought, while mirth and joy went round;

Is by fome worthless wanton heir destroy'd,
Its once full rooms grown a deserted void:

With fighs, each neighbour views the mournful place;
With fighs, each recollects what once it was.

So does our wretched theatre appear;

For mirth and joy once kept their revels here.
Here the beau-monde in crowds repair'd each day,
And went well pleas'd and entertain'd away.
While Oldfield here hath charm'd the lift'ning age,
And Wilks adorn'd, and Booth hath fill'd the stage;
Soft eunuchs warbled in fuccefslefs ftrain,
And tumblers fhow'd their little tricks in vain :
Those boxes ftill the brighter circles were,
Triumphant toafts receiv'd their homage there.
But now, alas! how alter'd is our cafe!

I view with tears this poor deferted place;
None to our boxes now in pity stray,

But poefs free o' th' house, and beaux who never pay.
No longer now we fee our crowded door

Send the late comer back again at four.
At feven now into our empty pit

Drops from his counter fome old prudent cit,
Contented with twelve pennyworth of wit.

-Our author, of a gen'rous foul poffefs'd,
Hath kindly aim'd to fuccour the distress'd;
To-night what he shall offer in our caufe
Already hath been bleft with your applaufe;
Yet this his mufe, maturer, hath revis'd,

And added more to that which once fo much you priz'd.
We fue, not mean to make a partial friend;

But without prejudice at least attend.

If we are dull, c'en cenfure; but we trust
Satire can ne'er difplease you when 'tis just:
Nor can we fear a brave, a gen'rous town
Will join to crush us, when we're almost down.

}

ACT I.

SCENE, Covent-Garden.

Mrs HIGHMAN, LETTICE.

Mrs HIGHMAN.

H! Mrs Lettice; is it you? I am extremely glad to fee you; you are the very perfon I would meet.

Let. I am much at your service, Madam.

Mrs High. Oh, Madam, I know very well that; and at every one's fervice, I dare fwear, that will pay for it:

but

but all the fervice, Madam, that I have for you, is to carry a meffage to your mafter I defire, Madam, that you would tell him from me, that he is a very great vilÍain; and that I intreat him never to come near my doors; for if I find him within 'em, I will turn my niece out of them.

Let. Truly, Madam, you muft fend this by another meffenger; but, pray, what has my mafter done, to deferve it fhou'd be fent at all?

Mrs High. He has done nothing yet, I believe; I thank heaven, and my own prudence; but I know what he wou'd do.

Let. He wou'd do nothing but what becomes a gentleman, I am confident.

Mrs High. Oh! I dare fwear, Madam; debauching a young lady is acting like a very fine gentleman: "but I fhall keep my niece out of the hands of such fine gentle

men.

Let. You wrong my mafter, Madam, cruelly; I know his defigns on your niece are honourable.

Mrs High. You know!

Let. Yes, Madam; no one knows my mafter's heart better than I do: I am fure, were his defigns otherwise, I would not be acceffary to 'em; I love your niece too much, Madam, to carry on an amour in which she shou'd be a lofer: but as I know that my mafter is heartily in love with her, and that' fhe is heartily in love with my master, and as I am certain they will be a very happy couple, I will not leave one stone unturn'd to bring them together.

Mrs High. Rare impudence! Huffy, I have another match for her, fhe fhall marry Mr Oldcastle.

Let. Oh! then I find it is you that have a dishonourable defign on your niece.

Mrs High. How, faucinefs!

Let. Yes, Madam, marrying a young lady, who is in love with a young fellow, to an old one whom the hates, is the fureft way to bring about I know what, that can poffibly be taken.

AIR I. Soldier Laddy.

When a virgin in love with a brisk jolly lad,
You match to a fpark more fit for her dad,

'Tis as pure, and as fure, and fecure as a gun,
The young lover's bufinefs is happily done:
Tho' it feems to her arms he takes the wrong rout,
Yet my life for a farthing,

Pursuing

His wooing,

The young fellow finds, tho' he go round about,

'Tis only to come

The nearest way

home.

Mrs High. I can bear this no longer. I wou'd advise you, Madam, and your mafter both, to keep from my house, or I shall take measures you won't like.

[Exit. Let. I defy you: We have the strongest party; and I warrant we'll get the better of you. But here comes the young lady herfelf.

Enter Charlotte. Char. So, Mrs Lettice!

Let. 'Tis pity you had not come a little fooner, Madam; your aunt is but juft gone, and has left pofitive orders that you should make more frequent vifits at our houfe.

Char. Indeed!

Let. Yes, Madam; for fhe has forbid my mafter ever vifiting at your's, and I know it will be impoffible for you to live without feeing him.

Char. I affure you! Do you think me fo fond then? Let. Do I! I know you are; you love nothing else, think of nothing else all day; and, if you will confess the truth, I dare lay a wager that you dream of nothing else all night.

Char. Then to fhow you, Madam, how well you know me-the devil take me if you are not in the right.

Let. Ah! Madam, to a woman practis'd in love, like me, there's no occafion for confeflion; for my part, I don't want words to affure me of what the eyes tell me. Oh! if the lovers wou'd but confult the eyes of their miftreffes, we fhou'd not have fuch fighing, languishing, and defpairing as we have.

AIR II.

Bush of Beon.

What need he truft your words precife,

Your foft defires denying;

When

When, oh! he reads within your eyes
Your tender heart complying.

Your tongue may cheat,

And with deceit

Your fofter wishes cover;

But oh! your eyes

Know no difguife,

Val. My dearest Charlotte! this is meeting my wishes indeed; for I was coming to wait on you.

Let. 'Tis very lucky that you do meet her here, for her house is forbidden ground; you have seen the last of that, Mrs Highman fwears.

Val. Ha! not go where my dear Charlotte is? what danger cou'd deter me? what difficulty prevent me? Not cannon, nor plagues, nor all the most frightful forms of death, fhould keep me from her arms.

Char. Nay, by what I can find, you are not to put your valour to any proof; the danger is to be mine, I am to be turn'd out of doors if ever you are seen in them again.

Val. The apprehenfions of your danger wou'd, indeed, put it to the fevereft proof: But why will my dearest Charlotte continue in the house of one who threatens to turn her out of it? why will fhe not know another home, one where she would find a protector from every kind of danger?

Char. How can you pretend to love me, Valentine, and ask me that in our present defperate circumstances?

Let. Nay, nay, don't accuse him wrongfully: I won't indeed infift that he gives you any great inftance of his prudence by it; but I'll fwear it is a very ftrong one of his love, and fuch an instance, as when a man has once shown, no woman of any honefty, or honour, or gratitude, can refuse him any longer. For my part, if I had ever found a lover who had not wicked mercenary views upon my fortune, I fhould have married him, whatever he had been.

Char. Thy fortune!

Let. My fortune! Yes, Madam, my fortune; I was worth fifty-fix pounds before I put it into the lottery:

What