Publisher's Synopsis
PROLOGUE, Written By Mr. Pilon Spoken At The Theatre Royal, Covent-Garden, June 24, 1780. All's safe here, I find, though the rabble routA few doors lower burnt the quorum out.Sad times, when Bow-street is the scene of riot, And justice cannot keep the parish quiet.But peace returning, like the dove appears, And this association stills my fears;Humour and wit the frolic wing may spread, And we give harmless Lectures on the Head.Watchmen in sleep may be as snug as foxes, And snore away the hours within their boxes;Nor more affright the neighbourhood with warning, Of past twelve o'clock, a troublesome morning.Mynheer demanded, at the general shock,"Is the Bank safe, or has it lower'd the stock?""Begar," a Frenchman cried, "the Bank we'll rob,"For I have got the purse to bribe the mob."-"Hoot awa, mon!" the loyal Scot replies,"You'll lose your money, for we'll hong the spies: "Fra justice now, my lad, ye shanna budge,"Tho' ye've attack'd the justice and the judge."-"Oh! hold him fast," says Paddy, "for I'll swear"I saw the iron rails in Bloomsbury-square"Burnt down to the ground, and heard the mob say,"They'd burn down the Thames the very next day."Tumult and riot thus on every sideSwept off fair order like the raging tide;Law was no more, for, as the throng rush'd by,"Woe to my Lord Chief Justice!" was the cry.And he, rever'd by every muse so long, Whom tuneful Pope immortaliz'd in song, Than whom bright genius boasts no higher name, Ev'n he could find no sanctuary in fame;With brutal rage the Vandals all conspire, And rolls of science in one blaze expire.But England, like the lion, grows more fierceAs dangers multiply, and foes increase;Her gen'rous sons, with Roman ardour warm, In martial bands to shield their country arm, And when we trembled for the city's fate, Her youth stood forth the champions of the state;Like brothers, leagu'd by nature's holy tie, A parent land to save, or bravely die.Did Britons thus, like brothers, always join, In vain to crush them would the world combine;Discord domestic would no more be known, And brothers learn affection from the throne.But know your Lecturer's awful hour is comeWhen you must bid him live, or seal his doom!He knows 'tis hard a leader's post to fillOf fame superior, and more ripen'd skill.The blame will all be mine, if troops should fail, Who'd lose their heads, but never could turn tailWho no commander ever disobey'd, Or overlook'd the signals which he made.Under your auspices the field I take, For a young general some allowance make;But if disgracefully my army's led, Let this court-martial then cashier my head. ADDITIONAL LINES TO THE PROLOGUE, Spoken At Newbury, In Consequence Of Lady Craven Bespeaking The Lecture, Who Had PublishedSome Lines On DreamingShe Saw Her Heart At Her Feet.Written By Mr. Pratt.'MIDST scenes like these, for so her lines impart, The Queen of Benham lost that gem her heart;Scar'd by the din, her bosom treasure flew, And with it every grac
