PROLOGUE

TO

CESAR BORGIA.

[EY MR. N. LEE, 1680.]

THE unhappy man, who once has trail'd a

pen,

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Lives not to please himself, but other men ;
Is always drudging, waftes his life and blood,
Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.
What praise foe'er the poetry deserve,
Yet every fool can bid the poet ftarve.
That fumbling letcher to revenge is bent,
Because he thinks himself or whore is meant:
Name but a cuckold, all the city swarms;
From Leadenhall to Ludgate is in arms:

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Ver. 1. The unhappy man,] Lce had fo melodious a voice, and fuch pathetic elocution, that reading one of his own scenes to Major Mohun at a rehearsal, Mohun in the warmth of his admiration, threw down his part, and exclaimed, "Unless I were able to play it as well as you read it, to what purpose fhould I undertake it." Yet it is a very remarkable circumstance, that Lee failed as an actor in attempting to perform the character of Duncan in Macbeth, 1672. As did Otway in a play of Mrs. Afra Behn, entitled the Jealous Bridegroom. After this failure, the first wrote his Alcibiades, and the last mentioned author his Nero. Dr. J. WARTON.

Were there no fear of Antichrift, or France,
In the bleft time poor poets live by chance.
Either you come not here, or, as you grace
Some old acquaintance, drop into the place,
Careless and qualmish with a yawning face: 15
You fleep o'er wit, and by my troth you may;
Moft of your talents lie another way.
You love to hear of fome prodigious tale,
The bell that toll'd alone, or Irish whale.
News is your food, and you enough provide, 20
Both for yourselves, and all the world befide.
One theatre there is of vaft resort,

Which whilome of Requests was called the
Court;

But now the great Exchange of News 'tis hight,

And full of hum and buz from noon 'till night.
Up ftairs and down you run, as for a race, 26
And each man wears three nations in his face.
So big you look, though claret
you retrench,
That, arm'd with bottled ale, you huff the
French.

But all your entertainment ftill is fed

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By villains in your own dull island bred.
Would you return to us, we dare engage
To fhew you better rogues upon the stage.
You know no poifon but plain ratsbane here;
Death's more refin'd, and better bred elfe-

where.

35

They have a civil way in Italy,

By fmelling a perfume to make

A trick would make you lay your fnuff-box by. Murder's a trade, fo known and practis'd there, That 'tis infallible as is the chair.

40

But, mark their feaft, you fhall behold fuch

pranks;

The pope fays grace, but 'tis the devil gives

thanks.

PROLOGUE

ΤΟ

SOPHONISBA, AT OXFORD, 1680.

THESPIS, the first professor of our art, At country wakes, fung ballads from a cart. Το prove this true, if Latin be no trespass, "Dicitur et plauftris vexiffe Poemata Thefpis."

But Æfchylus, fays* Horace in fome page, 5 Was the first mountebank that trod the stage:

* Succeffit vetus his Comoedia, etc. i. e. Comedy began to be cultivated and improved from the time that tragedy had obtained its end, ïoxe tùu iavîñç qúow, under Æfchylus. There is no reafon to fuppofe, with fome critics, that Horace meant to date its origin from hence. The fuppofition is, in truth, contradicted by experience and the order of things. For, as a celebrated French writer obferves, "Le talent d'imiter, qui nous eft naturel, nous porte plutôt à la comedie, qui roule fur des chofes de notre connoiffance, qu'à la Tragedie, qui prend des fujets plus éloignés de l'ufage commun; et en effect, en Grèce aussi bien qu'en France, la Comedie eft l'aînée de la tragedie." [Hift. du Theat. Franc. par M. de Fontenelle.] The latter part of this affertion is clear from the piece referred to; and the other, which refpects Greece, feems countenanced by Ariftotle himself [wp ποιητ. κ. .] "Tis true, comedy, though its rife be every where, at leaft, as early as that of tragedy, is perfected much later. Menander, we know, appeared long after fchylus. And, though the French tragedy, to speak with Ariftotle, oxe Thu tans quo in the hands of Corneille, this cannot be faid of their comedy, which was forced to wait for a Moliere, before it arrived at that pitch of perfection. But then this is owing to

Yet Athens never knew your learned sport
Of toffing poets in a tennis-court.
But 'tis the talent of our English nation,
Still to be plotting fome new reformation :
And few years hence, if anarchy goes on,
Jack Prefbyter fhall here erect his throne,
Knock out a tub with preaching once a day,
And every prayer be longer than a play.
Then all your heathen wits fhall go to pot,
For disbelieving of a Popish-plot:

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15

the fuperior difficulty of the comic drama. Nor is it any objection that the contrary of this happened at Rome. For the Romans, when they applied themselves in carneft to the stage, - had not to invent, but to imitate, or rather tranflate, the perfect models of Greece. And it chanced, for reasons which I fhall not stay to deduce, that their poets had better fuccefs in copying their comedy than tragedy.

The two happieft fubjects, faid Fontenelle, for tragedy, and comedy among the moderns, are the Cid, and l'Ecole des Femmes. But unluckily, the refpective authors that wrote on each, were not arrived at the full force of their geniufes when they treated thefe fubjects. Events that have actually happened, are, after all, the propereft fubjects for poetry. The beft eclogue of Virgil †, the beft ode of Horace, are founded on real incidents. If we briefly caft our eyes over the most interesting and affecting ftories, ancient or modern, we shall find that they are fuch, as however adorned and a little diversified, are yet grounded on true history, and on real matters of fact. Such, for inftance, among the ancients, are the stories of Jofeph, of Edipus, the Trojan war, and its confequences, of Virginia and the Horatii; fuch, among the moderns, are the ftories of King Lear, the Cid, Romeo and Juliet, and Oronooko. The ferics of events contained in thefe ftories, feem far to furpafs the utmost powers of human imagination. In the beft conducted fiction, fome mark of improbability and incoherence will fill appear. Dr. J. WARTON,