PROLOGUE

To Mr. HAYLEY'S Tragedy of LORD RUSSEL.
Written by Mr. COLMAN.
Spoken by Mr. PALMER.

bard, whofe tragic ftrains we now rehearse,

Beguiling o'er his lines the vacant hour,

Oft have you felt and own'd his mufe's pow'r!
Now to this roof we bring his favour'd page,
And force him, half reluctant, to the stage;
The stage, where those who fimple nature paint
Fear left their ftrokes, too faithful, feem too faint.
For bere the artist, with a defperate hand,
And broad pound brush, not pencil, takes his ftand;
Anxious to make his cloth at diftance strike,
Daubs, in diftemper-rather large than like.
Thron'd in high car, and ufher'd by loud drums,
From Bedlam fome Great Alexander comes!
Appals with noife, and labours to furprise,

The very faculties of cars and eyes!"'
Yet, Britons never have difdain'd to grace
The natural heroes of a milder race!
Cato's firm bofom, and expiring groan
For virtuous Liberty, they made their own.
Yet Cato's fteel but fign'd his country's fate;
For with him died the freedom of the ftate!"
Your own calm Ruffel, by his nobler end,
Freedom's mild martyr, prov'd her firmett friend;
Roue'd by his fate, a band of heroes rofe,
To fovereign tyranny determin'd foes;
Champions of faith and law, their aweful stand
Chac'd Bigotry and Slavery from the land.
To vindicate an injur'd nation's claims,
Naffa and Brunfwick join'd their glorious names!
To Britain her dear liberty enfur'd,
Stamp'd her great charter, and her rights fecur'd!
To guard thofe rights, old England's noblest pride,
To guard thofe rights, our gallant Ruffel died.
Britons attentively his tale fhall hear,
Nor blush at patriot woe to drop a tear;
A tear they'd fanctify with streams of blood,
Dying, like Ruffel, for their country's good!

PROLOGUE To the new Farce of HUNT THE SLIPPER. Spoken by Mr. BANNISTER, Jun.

T

Hunt the Slipper! 'is a dangerous name, At once that hints the port, and finds the game,

Will, like a poacher, mob the game in cover.
Give him fair play-judge when y chace is done!
He only begs you'd let him have a-run.

But, left this hunted fimile we tire,
If not one more fublime, we'll take one bigher.
Since 'tis the ton to travel to the moon,
Our author dares to launch bis air-balloon.
He fends it off, the fport of wayward chance;
Yet boats not one material brought from France
No-his is true old English home-fpun stuff,
Nor rais'd by one inflammatory puff!
Oh! may he find good-nature's milky way,
Nor near the critic's harsh attraction stray!
For the poor author, tho' up many a stair,
To garret mounted-yet can't live on air;
The Mufes give, while half-ftarved poets write
Ideal food-but real appetite.

His "airy nothing" don't prefume to claim
"A local habitation and a name;"
May it be playful, round the fancy fport,
And let its lightnefs be its beft fupport!
But, fhould foft Candour lend her genial breeze,
With fpring elaftic it will mount with ease;
Will gain new vigour each fucceeding night,
And to the very gods will wing its flight!-

Our

Our fun extinguifh'd, terror fhook the ball,
And heaven refounded at her hero's fall.
Tho' truth pour'd golden light along the years,
And crown'd her martyr high o'er all his peers;
Black Rancour burn'd, to blaft each heaven-born
bloom,

And Murder throwded virtue in the tomb.
Then, like Vefuvius, blaz'd up honest rage!
Then Juftice lighten'd from the impaflion'd page:
Then Liberty, irom her ítar-studded throne,
Down darting, mark'd the model all her own:
For liberty, like air, all uncontin`d,
Like reafon, Magna Charta ot mankind;
The mean, the partial purpofe heaps with fcorn,
But beams like gladnets laughing from the morn;
Beams upon all, tho' at Heaven's high command
She pours her brighter bleflings on our land;
Beams upon all, though nations proftrate lie;
Nor owns one charter'd flave beneath the iky.
Nor lefs the enthufiaft fpurns her equal fway;
The fcreech-owl blind, amid the blaze of day;
Time yawn'd-and all was falfe fanatic light,
Mad meteor fweeping thro' the polar night;
Time woke-and ruin into Chaos hurl'd
The conftitution, wonder of a world!
That fun round whom each stated planet turns,
When Majefty in all her glory burns,
Body and foul, are king and people--prove
Our fovereign lives but in his people's love;
His people, too, their father all adore;
For virtue never brighter blaz'd before.
Faction and falfehood to the venal flave,
Freedom to Britons, freedom to the brave.

By great'good-luck of fortune, wind, and weather,
Was dropp'd (fo fays the tale) exactly HITHER.
Suppofe him then all-anxious in his zeal
For LITERATURE, and the DRAMATIC weal!
Suppofe, thus eager, he unhapp'ly prov'd
His finance injur'd for the Mufe he lov'd!
For fome there are- (but that is entre nous)
Who do not always give the bard his due;
And tho' he fpurn at WEALTH Courts only FAME,
What other trade can ftand a lfing game?

On thefe two grounds, our voluntary troop, (New-levied forces, an unpractic'd groupe, Comes forth to-night, in LITERATURE's de fence,

And truits an AUTHOR to your better fenfe;
Truits y your favour, prov'd in RuSSEL's praife,
Their monument of honour will upraife;
Nay, trufts their SPOUTING-Oh, the horrid
fhame!

Pray, damn it, and prevent their further blamel
No, they must speed, with fouls fo nobly kind
To every dawn of merit in the mind.
Propitious then, O aid the double caufe!
Lo! SCIENCE fmiles, fecure of your applaufe.
And that the MUSE fhould fuffer by her art,
Awakes each gen'rous feeling of your heart!
To these we truit, ý HONEST VOTES to gain
(And may no future SCRUTINY remain!)
So fhall each ACTOR, in his proper iphere,
Record the partial praife indulged him HER B

The ADDRESS

Unfhaken we, but by our own alarms:
For let but Britons, Heaven's heroic race,
Hufh the hoarfe war of faction into peace,
Britain herself a world-thall ever ftand,
And dash the roaring billows from her land.
Yes! RUSSEL.'s blood ftill reigns in honeft veins,
For freedom-* look, immortal freedom reigns.

The OCCASIONAL ADDRESS Written and Spoken by Mr. Lucas before Dr. STRATFORD'S Tragedy of LORD KUSSEL, on Friday evening, Aug. 24.

[The Prompter calls aloud in his place.] CALL, call'm, boy! where's he that's to begin?

Dr. STRATFORD's Play of LORD RUSSEL.

BE

EFORE this brilliant houfe once more we

bend,

From deep diftrefs to fave a finking friend:
In friendship's caufe to act a generous part,
And do y good which warm'd his patron's heart.
For tho' unbleft in thefe his tragic lays,
Bright genius crown'd his early youth with bays;
In Grecian trains he bade the Mules fing,
And urg'd his flight to heav'n on Homer's wing.
He taught the Nine in their lov'd founds to fpeak,
And our firit father, e'en Adam, Greek.
He bade, thro' ages dark, remote, and crar,
His British tree a Grecian feion bear;
And treading foft o'er all the claffic dead,

M here, Sir PROMPT! tho' trembling in my

I'M

íkin.

This aweful fight! I never can proceed -Unless their plaudits arm me for the deedWhat magic in that found! My fears difperfe,

Another cheer-and then-I may rehearse!I bend in thanks. And tho' untram'd by ART, Tho' far unequal to one SCENIC part; Tho', like to all who tread these boards to-night, Unnerv'd, unhing'd, the victims of affright; Yet by YOUR favour thus infpir'd, and bold, A fimple tale, as fimply wrote as told, TO YOUR indulgent ears will I untold.

Once on a TIME--the PLACA mutt fure be

HERE,

For who, like Britons, claim the Mufe's care?-
A travell'd bard launch'd in an air-ball.on,
From fome poetic quarter of the Moon,

Looking to

+ Looking round the house, frighted.

But now around misfortunes, whirlwinds fly, Obfcure the day, and blot the light on high: Fate threats aloud, thro' all the stygian dark, To dath on Scylla's rocks his little bark. Loud furges roar, once pleating profpects frown, And floods of troubl'd waters prefs him down; Yet ftill our port, our hapless friend to fave, We brave each blatt, and ftem each ftormy waves No vain contention brought us here to-night, Or taught our bard, with other bards to write. Too much we dread the night's approaching heat, To rifk, in Drury's plains, a mean defeat; For who can fee furrounding ruin hurl'd, Or fland, unfhock'd, amidit a buifting world? Thio' all thefe fcenes we've us'd y pruning knife, And each part breathes with renovated life.

Fresh flowers to your impatient eyes we bring, And the fott Mufe has prun'd each ruth'd wing.

Crouching back. § Bows to the audience.

To you the ftrives each beauty to adorn,
And culls the rofe from ev'ry pedant thorn;
And now, methinks, foft beams of mercy rife,
To fhed a rainbow in these stormy skies!
Oh! may no further ills affail us here,
And not a turtle's feather feel this air.
Oh! may we find fome calm benignant ray,
Like Lethe's tide, to take all faults away;
So fhall the fears which late perplex'd each breaft,
By your kind fimiles, be gently laid to reit.

A

EPILOGUE to the SAME. Written and Spoken by Mrs. BATIER. Sone who 'fcapes the horrors of a dream, And hails & grateful joy ý morning beam, So have I 'fcap'd the more than Stygian flood Of tyrants fcorn, and a lov'd husband's blood; 'Scap'd with delight from dark ideal pain, To the true bleifings of the prefent reign; Where every virtue fpark les round the throne, With native worth, and beauty all our own. Thus, tho' my veffel was on danger's brink, Bound for its Cape-Good Hope fhall never fink. And let creation's lords fay what they will, Thank Heaven! we have the odds of talking ftill; Elfe how could I, the tragic business over, So foon the power of utterance recover; Like Milton, caft on evil times and tongues, My part required prodigious ftrength of lungs; One lonely female, thro' five acts to brave On Sorrow's ocean each tempestuous wave, With no kind pilot in the tragic storm, Where grief aflaulted me in every form, Thrown by our author on that hectic age Of lawless appetite, and bigot rage; I freely own the melancholy part Has left a mournful fomething at my heart; A foft regretting languor, quite unfit For this attempt, where chafte, yet ready wit, Should, like the lightning of thofe radiant eyes, Correct, delight, enliven, and furprise. Wild are my numbers, and my feelings quick, Nor have I yet acquired one play-houfe trick: But fure the hearer will vouchfafe to blend, Nay, lofe the critic in the generous friend, In Friendship's caufe a volunteer I came, Intreating pity, yet fubmit to blame; And tho' a stranger to dramatic lore, I but prefume to tremble on this floor. Yet the great motive which infpires my heart, Might to a Siddons fome new charms impart, Extend her fame, if wider it can ipread, And add the faireft laurel to her head. Away then, fear, defpondency, and doubt, My better angels drive fuch traitors out; Command our labours, and let your defire Forbid that Ruffel fhould again expire. The dragon cenfure's wakeful eye-lids steep, Create and lengthen the dread moniter's fleep, While we the harveft of his flumbers reap; So fhall the author find this honour'd piece, And your protection prove a golden fleece.

PROLOGUE

By novelty all rivalship to fmother.
Play follows play-one juft as good as t'other;
And now, to lull the dragons of the pit,
Two Connoiffeurs take counsel, wit with wit.
As thieves catch thieves, fo poet convicts poet;
Their plan's all wrong-and I mult overthrow it.

I am an author, too; my name is Bayes;
My trade is fcribbling; my chief fcribbling, plays.
Many I've written, clapp'd by houfes cramm'd-
Acted with valt applaufe!-and fome few damn'd:
But ne'er tryed aught so low, or so fublime,
As tragedy in profe, or comedy in rhyme.

A comedy in rhyme! the thought's not new:
'Twas tryed long fince-and then it would not do.
What happy point the dialogue can crown,
Set to the hacknied tune of Derry-down?
What Pegafus in flight can reach the spheres,
With bells, like packhorfe, gingling at his ears?
Smart profe gives hit for hit, and dath for dath,
Joke after joke, like lightening, flath on flash.
Retort fo quick, and repartee fo nimble,
'Tis all Prince Prettyman, and tharp Tom
Thimble!

As the piece ftands, no critic could endure it.
'Twould die, but Bayes has a receipt to cure it.
And little Bayes, egad, has long been known
To make the works of others all his own.
Whate'er your piece-'tis mine if you rehearse it;
Verfe I tranfprofe; and if profe, I tranfverfe it.
Say but the word, I'll pull this drama down,
And build it up again, to please the town.
The thing's unfashion'd-yet it his fome foul;
The fable's neat-the characters are droll;
The fcope and moral has a right intention,
And aíks no added labour of invention.
Rhyme's the mere fuperitructure; down it goes;
The old foundation fhall fupport my profe.
If here and there fome fparks of genius fhine,
I will not drop a thought, nor lofe a line-
So damn this play, that you may come to mine!

EPILOGUE

To THE TWO CONNOISSEURS.
Written by E. TOPHAM, Efq.
Spoken by Mifs FARREN.

A you've feen a in

S manners alter with the varying times,

}

THE TWO CONNOISSEURS.

Written by Mr. COLMAN,

Spoken by Mr. Willon, in the character of Bayes. UR manager, long fince a connoiffeur,

LOND. Mac. Sept. 1784.

lure.

When Drury's mighty monarch takes the field,
When Ruffel's rival excellence gives birth
To patent tragedies, and mournful mirth:
Where one eternal handkerchief fcarce dries
The exhaustlefs tears that flow from Bedford's

Where crape and fables deaden all the scene,
Till Hubert pops his pleafant head between:
Till James, York, Ruflell, Peters, all engage,
And boxing Jefferies clears the crowded itage.

Oh! had fuch mighty forrows fill'd my mind!
Me-whom stage articles and falary bind,
The weighty talk had furely broke my heart-
"For I'm no voluntier, and can't depart!”*
If fuch of tragedy the pleating pain,
Say-who would that y doors of Drury-lane?
"To act or not?-to let the house-that's all-
"To get a little cash-or none at all?'*
Friends to the trade, and lett the market drop,
As one thuts up another opens fhop;
For now, releas'd from length of patriot toil,
One houfe of greater actors fleeps awhile,

Where wit and argument for ever jar,
And "Ayes and Noes" keep up continual war.
Here India triumphs-there unfmuggled tea-
And patronage is balanc'd-by bohea!
While commutation-window-tax between
Pays her ten-pounds-for ten-pence fav'd on green.
Nor thefe alone complete the general din:
Without we grumble, as we fcold within-
The quicken'd poft-office laments its cure,
And clerks ftill with their pofls" were flow and
fure.

Such are the novelties whofe force engage,
With grief or joy, this tragi-comic age!
May we "the living manners" ftill purfue,
And find your approbation ever new!

REVIE W. LXXX.

THE numerous claffes of new publications, and the fmall portion of our magazine which is allotted to the Literary Review, has obliged us to defer the conclufion of our account of this entertaining volume to the prefent number. We fhall now finish this

article:

LETTER XXs Contains an account of the funeral of the Princefs Kurakin, the ceremony of which Mr. Richardfon reprefents as being very folemn, though the loudnefs of the lamentations was fuch as to destroy the pleafing melancholy which fuch fights ought to produce.

LETTER XXI. Exhibits a tranflation of the hymn chaunted at the afpafmus, or laft embrace of the princefs. It was written originally in Greek, by the famous Joannes Damafcenus, and tranflated from him, for the use of the Ruffian church, into the Sclavonian dialect. It is curious, as, indeed, is every part of the defcription of the funeral ce

remony.

LETTER XXII. Gives us an account of a poor library belonging to the Academy, and of fome relics of Peter the Great.

LETTER XXIII. Contains an admirable tranflation of a German poem,

intituled Abiran, or the Victim of fancied Woe, which our readers cannot but remember to have feen, in the poetical department of our magazine for February laft, Vol. II. p. 127.

LETTER XXIV. Journal of the weather for fifty-five days during the winter 1769-79.

LETTER XXV. Account of a comet, which was feen in Ruffia, in the year 1769, with an account of fome other comets. This is an ingenious and entertaining letter.

LETTER XXVI.

Prefents us with a defcription of the famous equeftrian ftatue of Peter the Great, and of the rock intended for the pedestal.

LETTER XXVII. Imitations of fome German fables, which will have a place in fome future number of our magazine.

LETTER XXVIII, to Letter XXXIV. Contains fome very curious and interefting accounts of the state of the Ruffians, as well peafants as men of rank, with reflections on their government, modes of punishment, and on their national character. In these feven letters our ingenious author has difplayed great infight into the human heart, and evinced no common share of obfervation. We lament that our

confined

confined limits will not permit us to tranfcribe the whole of them- we must content ourselves with referring our readers to the book.

LETTER XXXV. Contains fome verfes on the death of a nightingale. LETTER XXXVI. Account of goods exported from St. Petersburgh in 1 1769, by 326 English ships, and 247 of other nations. Thefe commodities coft at firft above 6,964,504 roubles.

LETTER XXXVII. Contains an account of the abdication of Victor Amadeus, King of Sardinia, in the year This curious and interefting 1730. narrative was tranflated from the Italian, by a friend of Mr. Richardfon.

LETTER XXXVIII. Defcription of the Hofpodar or Prince of Wallachia, who was taken prifoner by the Ruffians, at the reduction of Chotzim. He was reftored to his dominions at the peace, but as he was fufpected of having proved falfe to the Sultan, our readers will not be furprised to hear that he was foon after aflaffinated in his palace. LETTER XXXIX. Contains anecdotes of the battle of Kahul, and of the Count Romanzow, who defeated the Vizir and the grand Turkish army. The following anecdotes deferve tranfcription:

"The count's earlieft paffion was the love of military glory: his fuperior understanding foon convinced him, that improvement in his profeffion could not, at that time, be obtained in Rufia; and his eagernels determined him to a measure which his perfeverance and addrefs enabled him to execute. He left his own country without the knowledge of his friends, and inlifted as a private foldier in the army of his Pruffian Majefty. Here he continued for fome time; was at length difcovered; received promotion fuited to his rank; and did not return to Ruffia but in obedience to the commands of his fovereign. This anecdote receives fome confirmation from an expreflion in a letter from Romanzow to the British ambaffador, delivered by a Scotch officer who had been recommended to him by his lordship, and who ferved with dutinguished honour to himself as a voluntier in the Ruffian army. Of that letter, written originally in French, the following is an extract:

I contefs I have always been ambitious of having the good opinion of your nation. I had much intercourfe with the natives of your country in my youth; and I reckon among them many particular friends. Befides, the obligations I owe to the late Marefchal Keith, that is to fay, all the knowledge I have in my profeffion, and confequently all my fortune, fhall make me, on all occafions, ardently defire to render justice to the

merit of Englishmen. It is a fort of retribution; and the worthieft incenfe I am capable of offering to the manes of that great man.”

LETTER XLI. In this letter, we find the following defcription of his Royal Highness Prince Henry of fent King, who was then on a vifit to Pruffia, the famous brother of the prethe Emprefs of Russia.

Prince Henry of Pruffia is one of the most celebrated generals of the prefent age. So great are his military talents, that his brother, who is not apt to pay compliments, fays of him-that in commanding an army he was never known to commit a fault. This, however, is but a negaglory of fuperior genius, which, though capable tive kind of praife. He referves to himfelf the of brilliant achievements, is yet liable to unwary mittakes; and allows him no other than the

praife of correctnefs. To judge of him by his appearance, fhould form no high estimation of his abilities. But the Scythian ambaffadors judged in the fame manner of Alexander the Great. He is under the middle fize; very thin; he walks firmly enough, or rather ftruts, as if he his air or geiture. He is dark-complexioned; wanted to walk firmly; and has little dignity in and he wears his hair, which is remarkably thick, clubbed, and dreffed with a high toupee. His forehead is high; his eyes large, with a little quint; and when he fmiles, his upper lip is drawn up a little in the middle. His look exprefles fagacity and obfervation; but nothing very amiable: and his manner is grave and stiff rather him, in a light blue trock, with filver frogs; and than affable. He was dreifed, when I firft faw

He is

wore a red waistcoat, and blue breeches. not very popular among the Ruffians; and accordingly, their wits are difpofed to amufe themfelves with his appearance, and particularly with his toupee. They fay he refembles Samplon; that all his strength lies in his hair; and that, confcious of this, and recollecting the fate of the fon of Manoah, he fuffers not the nigh approaches of any deceitful Dalilah.”

The letter clofes with a humourous

defcription of a masquerade, and bril

liant firework.

LETTER XLII. Prefents us with an account of the confecration of the waters. This ceremony is as follows:

"A pavilion, fupported by eight pillars, under which the chief part of the ceremony was performed, was erected on the Moika, a ítream which enters the Neva between the winter palace and the Admiralty. On the top was a gilded figure of St. John; on the fides were pictures of our Saviour, reprefented in different fituations; and within, immediately over the hole which was cut through the ice into the water, was fufpended the figure of a dove. The pavilion was furrounded with a temporary fence of fitbranches; and a broad lane from the palace was defended on each fide in a fimilar manner. This paffage, by which the proceffion advanced, was covered with red cloth. The banks of the river, Ff2