AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE TO OTHELLO,

AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE TO OTHELLO ,

As it was acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane , on Thursday the 7th of March 1751 , by Persons of Distinction for their Diversion .

WHILE mercenary actors tread the stage , And hireling scriblers lash or lull the age , Ours be the task t'instruct , and entertain , Without one thought of glory or of gain . Virtue's her own — from no external cause — She gives , and she demands the Self-applause : Home to her breast she brings the heart-felt bays , Heedless alike of profit , and of praise . This now perhaps is wrong — yet this we know , 'Twas sense and truth a century ago : When Britain with transcendent glory crown'd , For high atchievements , as for wit renown'd ; Cull'd from each growing grace the purest part , And cropt the flowers from every blooming art . Our noblest youth would then embrace the task Of comic humour , or the mystic masque . 'Twas theirs t'incourage worth , and give to bards What now is spent in boxing and in cards : Good sense their pleasure — Virtue still their guide , And English magnanimity — their pride . Methinks I see with Fancy's magic eye , The shade of Shakespear , in yon azure sky . On you high cloud behold the bard advance , Piercing all Nature with a single glance : In various attitudes around him stand The passions , waiting for his dread command . First kneeling Love before his feet appears , And musically sighing melts in tears . Near him fell Jealousy with fury burns , And into storms the amorous breathings turns ; Then Hope with heavenward look , and Joy draws near , While palsied Terror trembles in the rear . Such Shakespear's train of horror and delight , And such we hope to introduce to-night . But if , tho' just in thought , we fail in fact , And good intention ripens not to act , Weigh our design , your censure still defer , When truth's in view 'tis glorious e'en to err .

EPILOGUE . Spoken by DESDEMONA . TRUE woman to the last — my peroration I come to speak in spight of suffocation ; To shew the present and the age to come , We may be choak'd , but never can be dumb . Well now methinks I see you all run out , And haste away to Lady Bragwell's rout ; Each modish sentiment to hear and weigh , Of those who nothing think , and all things say . Prudella first in parody begins , ( For Nonsense and Buffoonery are twins ) " Can beaux the court for theatres exchange ? " I swear by Heaven 'tis strange , 'tis passing strange ; " And very whimsical , and mighty dull , " And pitiful , and wond'rous pitiful : " I wish I had not heard it — Blessed dame ! Whene'er she speaks her audience wish the same . Next Neddy Nicely — " Fye , O fye , good lack , " A nasty man to make his face all black . " Then Lady Stiffneck shews her pious rage , And wonders we shou'd act — upon a stage . " Why , ma'me , says Coquetilla , a disgrace ? " Merit in any form may shew her face : " In this dull age the male things ought to play , " To teach them what to do , and what to say . " In short , they all with different cavils cram us , And only are unanimous to damn us . But still there are a fair judicious few , Who judge unbiass'd , and with candour view ; Who value honesty , tho' clad in buff , And wit , tho' dress'd in an old English ruff . Behold them here — I beaming sense descry , Shot from the living lustre of each eye . Such meaning smiles each blooming face adorn , As deck the pleasure-painted brow of morn ; And shew the person of each matchless fair , Tho' rich to rapture , and above compare , Is , even with all the skill of heaven design'd , But an imperfect image of their mind ; While chastity unblemish'd and unbrib'd Adds a majestic mien that scorns to be describ'd : Such , we will vaunt , and only such as these , 'Tis our ambition , and our fame to please .