AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, PERFORMED AT THE OPENING OF THE THEATRE-ROYAL IN THE HAYMARKET, 1767. WRITTEN BY SAMUEL FOOTE, ESQ. [Not inserted in the Editions of Mr. Foote's Works.] Scene, the STREET. Enter LACONIC and SNARL. Snar.WHAT! master Laconic, whither are you tambling this evening? To collect, I reckon, the coffee-house compliments on your late epigrammatical efforts. Well, I must say, for a tierse point, a happy surprise, or a risible quibble, there is no man in this town can match little Laconic. Lac. O! fye, Snarl, this amongst friends! Snar, Nay, so much detraction itself must allow why, man, you are the very life and soul of the Chronicle; shut but the poets out of their corner, and we shall soon see an end of that paper. Lac. I can't but say, Mr. Snarl, my conceits are pretty current in town; but then my genius is cramp'd; I could, perhaps, produce an epic equal to Virgil, or Iliad, or any of them there fellows of old; but to what end? Lack-a-day! I should never be read; no man's attentions hold out now for more than six or eight lines--No, no, poor poetry is but a drug. Snar. Then why do you deal in it? Lac. Nature impels: Whilst but a child, and yet unknown to fame, A mere involuntary effusion of mine; a kind of poetical diabetes. Lac. Could I bridle my impulse, damme, Mr. Snarl, if I would hitch a ryme, or clench a couplet again, as long as I liv'd.-No, no, the land of prose is the land of promise, aye, and of performance too: why I dare swear you make more by a single letter from Leonora, or Buckhorse, or the Cobler of Cripplegate, than I do by a quire of epigrams. Snar. Our compositions are of a different kind, and have a different tendency: your purpose, my dear Laconic, is to amuse, mine to reform; you tickle the ear with a rattle, a kind of jingling chime, which suits well enough with women and children; whilst I with my flapper rouse the public attention, and like another Hercules, my broom in my hand, cleanse this great Augean stable from every nuisance. To mend the world's a great design! Martial and Cato were different characters, Laconic. Lac. I beg your pardon, my man of importance. Cato! ha, ha, ha: what, because you have filled up a ditch in Fleet-street, rouz'd a slumbering watchman in the Strand, sent half a score beggars from pitch and hustle to bridewell, widen'd the Devil's Gap for the lawyers, and brought a habeas corpus for a dunghill in Hol born Snar. How! Lac. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cato! Snar. Why, thou little clumsy fetterer of freeborn English, thou slave to sounds, thou botcher of syllables, thou bawd to an echo; is it for thy circumscribed insignificant quill to record the public services of a Snarl? Lac. They might with ease be cramm'd into a distich. Snar. Why, you wasp of the buzzing creation, that hast nought of the bee but his sting, answer me: who is it has given decency to churches, politeness to play-houses, stability to the stocks, and secu rity to the state, but a Snarl? Lac. Why, as to the churches, if they all resemble that where I was on Sunday, the reform is not great; the ladies curtsied and whisper'd all the first part of the service, and the church-wardens snor'd so loud, there was no hearing the sermon. Snar. Some paltry, pewless place in the suburbs, which the Gazetteer never reaches. Lac. The play-houses still have their pantomimes: they have made one improvement, indeed, for most of their new things are now set to music; so that though our ears are wounded, our understandings are safe. Snar. Barbarian! unharmonious Goth! Lac. Change-Alley is still crowded: the stocks are a staple commodity, witness the bulls, bears, &c. and as to the state, I'm sure you can't think that secure, for your paper overturns it at least three times a week. Snar. What a little satirical whelp! Lac. Whelp! ay- The critics call me cur from what I write, With reason too, for like a cur I bite. There's an extempore for you, that I composed before breakfast this morning. Snar. I believe I had best make it up with the reptile: nay, Mr. Laconic, you know I never denied the fire of your poetry. Lac. Nor I the force of your prose: each in his walk, Mr. Snarl; but let us understand one another a little : like other actors, before the public, indeed, we ought to preserve the masque as well as we can, but when the curtain drops, the deception should end; 'my poetical flights are no more inspired by one of the nine, than your prose animadversions are dictated by public spirit. Snar. Nay, but Laconic Lac. The inducement with both is the same--eating-. Lac. A dinner sometimes I do.---What, don't I know the tricks of your trade, the old plan of plaintiff and defendant; Theatricus condemins, Leonora defends, Buckhorse reviles, Tranquillus retorts; What the Director asserts, a Proprietor denies: Whilst, all the time, Theatricus, Leonora, Buckhorse, Tranquillus, the Direc tor, and the Proprietor, all centre in one individual, called Timothy Snarl. Snar. Well, well, I know you have a mind to be pleasant, but a truce to our jangling--for what port are you bound? Lac. A neighbouring one, the new house in the Haymarket. Lac. I suppose on the same design as myself, to observe? Lac. Why, I think it hard if I don't find food for my muse. Snar. And the devil is in it, if a new play-house won't furnish a paper. Lac. Allons! but what pretence can we have to get on the stage? Snur. Here's a letter to introduce a young actress. Lac. That will do. remem Snar. This Foote has given you good food in his time: I ber how brilliant you was upon his misfortune about a twelvemonth ago, Lac. True, true. Snar. Ah! how sweetly you rung the chimes upon foot and leg, and leg and foot.--Ah !-- Lac. Yes, that accident was lucky enough; it furnished oùr paper in clenches and stings for more than a month.-But, wont you knock? [Snarl knocks. Snar. Here's a letter; when you have perused the contents, I shall be glad of your answer. Foote. Sir, you shall have it. Snar. I suppose there's no harm in taking a view? Foote. By no means. [Foote withdraws. Lac. Ah! pretty enough! hark'ee, Snarl, this artichecture? what order do you call it? Snar. Chinese: Lac. I thought so, it looks like a pagoda. Snar. Exactly, damn'd absurd, and quite out of nature. Lac. Why the pit's in the cellar. Snar. And the gods in the clouds; and as to the boxes→→→→ Lac. They are push'd into the street: then the stage---hold! what have we here? Snar. As I live a couple of ladies*. Lac. Who are they? Snar. Oh! this inscription will tell us: Prisca-Zounds! 'tis in Latin! pox take these impertinent puppies: what need any language to Englishmen, but English?--But they must be shewing their learning. Hark'ee, Laconic, you understand Latin. Lac. Latin, ad unguem. Snar. Who is this same lass we have got here? Lac. Pris. comedian.---Oh! are you there!-ha, ha, was there ever so absurd a design? Snar. What's the matter? Lac. To put for a frontispiece a paltry comedian: it is only Priscilla, that's all. Snar. Priscilla? who was she? Lac. She was an actress in Betterton's time; her name is in the old folio edition of Shakespear; a good low comedian, but infernally ugly. * Two figures, representing the ancient and modern comedy. Snar. I can't say her figure was much in her favour. Lac. No, an absolute fright,--but a vast fund of humour.--She was the Clive of the company. Snar. And now for the other. Lac. A bird of the same feather Sublato jure nocendi.--The inscription does not tell us her name, but the hint is not a bad one for that gentleman there. Snar. What is it? Lac. To beware of a jury. Snar. Alluding I suppose to what befel him in Ireland. Lac. Not unlikely; but he is here: upon my word, Mr. Whatdy'e-call-um,--you have made great alterations here. Foote. I hope you approve them? Snar. As to that, we have not had time to consider minutely; but what do you say to my letter? Foote. I am referred for the lady's qualifications to you, Sir: I suppose her figure- Snar. Is fine. Foote. Her age. Foote. Flos ipse. Snar. No, that's not her name. Foote. Her voice. Snar. Harmonious. Foote. With power. Snar. As loud as a trumpet-then she sings like an angel. Snar. And is a perfect mistress of music. 3 Foote. These are valuable requisites for our profession: could I have the honour of seeing the lady? Snar. Whenever you please. Foote. The sooner the better; to-morrow. Snar. At what hour? Foote. Betwixt eleven and twelve. Snar. You'll not disappoint me? Foote. You may rely upon me. Snar. Very well.---Come, Laconic:---but stay--there is one circumstance it may be proper to mention, as perhaps it may prove an objection. Foote. What is it? Snar. As to the young gentlewoman's colour; the lady's a Blackamoor. |