« PreviousContinue »
To-morrow comes. I know your merit,
The coach below, the clock gone five,
If not, I take a pinch of snuff,
That done, a-gape the critics sit,
- But hist ! — the prompter rings his bell. - Down there! hats off!--the curtain draws! What follows is – the just applause.
HE Jealous Wife! a Comedy! poor man
! A charming subject! but a wretched plan. His skittish wit, o’erleaping the due bound, Commits flat trespass upon tragic ground. Quarrels, upbraidings, jealousies, and spleen, Grow too familiar in the comic scene. Tinge but the language with heroic chime, 'Tis Passion, Pathos, Character, Sublime ! What round big words had swell’d the pompous scene, A king the husband, and the wife a queen ! Then might Distraction rend her graceful hair, See sightless forms, and scream, and gape, and stare. Drawcansir death had rag'd without controul, Here the drawn dagger, there the poison'd bowl.
had stream'd at all the whining woe! What hands had thunder'd at each Hab! and Ob!
But peace! the gentle prologue cuítom sends, Like drum and serjeant, 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 honest skill is shewn,
your decision he submits his cause, Secure of candour, anxious for applause.