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قراءة كتاب The Widow's Vow: A Farce, in Two Acts
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 1
THE
WIDOW's VOW.
A
FARCE,
IN TWO ACTS,
AS IT IS ACTED
AT THE THEATRE ROYAL,
HAY-MARKET.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR C. G. J. AND J. ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER ROW.
1786.
PROLOGUE,
Written by Mr. HOLCROFT,
Spoken by Mr. BANNISTER, jun.
| Prologues, with caustic touch, have often tried |
| To probe your spleen, prove knaves and fools allied; |
| Have twisted words and wit ten thousand ways, |
| To shew that these are most degenerate days! |
| A different task be ours.—We'll prove that you |
| Are wise and happy. Nay! tho' strange, 'tis true! |
| First on your safety think! now belles appear |
| By ample bulwarks guarded, front and rear! |
| Now male and female amble, side by side, |
| Exempt from harm, by breast-works fortify'd! |
| Here polygons defend Miss Molly's breast! |
| There horn-works hush the husband's fears to rest |
| By ramparts, daily rais'd, he's freed from cares; |
| If he'll but grant sufficient for repairs. |
| Our strength thus prov'd, proceed we to disclose |
| How new-made wealth thro' new-made channels flows! |
| How rich we are, in medal-rust and rare things! |
| In copper coins, gilt pence and—Queen-Anne-farthings! |
| How shells, stuff'd monkies, and Cremonas old, |
| In hand of Auctioneer, are current gold! |
| He "Going! going!" cries. "The hammer's up! |
| "This fine antique! this Roman——caudle-cup!" |
| A gem so rare makes connoisseurs turn pale, |
| Fearful, alike, to purchase or to fail! |
| Hope trembles, starts, from lip to lip rebounds, |
| 'Till down she's knock'd by—Ah!—one thousand pounds! |
| The envied purchaser, with joy elate, |
| Pays for his prize by—selling his estate! |
| While Smirk, in florid style, words nicely plac'd, |
| Protests theee lot does, anner to his taste! (Mimicking.) |
| Yes! sure you're happy! and should rest content, |
| Now landscapes are reduced fifteen per cent: |
| And Claude's and Titian's new-found wonders may |
| By new-made Peers be bought—if new-made Peers can pay. |
| (Assuming sorrow.) |
| One thing, indeed, may well your peace invade, |
| Pawnbrokers! threaten you to leave off trade! (Weeps.) |
| (Returning to his former chearful tone.) |