Artists, who furnish'd pictures for the stage,
In good Queen Befs's memorable age,
With a juft pencil City-portraits drew,
Mark'd ev'ry vice, and mark'd each virtue too:
The City Madam's vanities display'd,
Prais'd honeft gains, but damn'd the tricks of trade.
Artists like thefe, (Old Ben the chief) to-night
Bring Idleness and Industry to light.
Their Sketch, by Time perhaps impair'd too much, A female hand has ventur'd to retouch.
Hence too our Hogarth drew, nor fcorn'd to glean The Comick ftubble of the Moral Scenes
Hence Fellow-Prentices he brought to life,
And fhew'd their manners, and their fate, at ftrife;
Shew'd to what ends both Good and Evil ftretch-
To Honour one, and t'other to Jack Ketch;
Turn'd ridicule 'gainft folly, fraud, and pride,
And fought with Humour's lance on Virtue's fide.
Such be henceforth each Comick Artist's aim,
Poets, or Painters, be their drift the fame!
Such are the leffons which To-Night we read;
And may next feffions prove that we fucceed!
On opening the New THEATRE ROYAL at MANCHESTER.
Spoken by MR. YOUNGER.
'N days of old, they fay, the Poet's Lays
Cities could build, and mighty temples raife.
When Orpheus play'd fo powerful was his fong,
He drew ftocks, ftones, and favage beafts along.
Amphion harp'd; obedient to his call,
The moving quarry jump'd into a wall.
Verse of fair government firft taught the plan,
Religion, Laws, and Arts, in Verse began.
Thus fables tell; and myftick truths they hide,
For Arts and Freedom with the Mufe abide,
When fogs of ignorance o'erspread the land,
Grim Perfecution rules with iron hand.
The focial Arts to kinder climates fly,
The Mufes' Temples all in Ruins lie.
But let the ray of Science chase the gloom,
The plough, the fail, the shuttle, and the loom,
Plied by the fons of Industry, bring in
The kindred Arts, and Freedom's joys begin.
Meanwhile well-pleas'd their triumphs to proclaim,
The Mufes celebrate, and fhare their fame;
And while their grateful incense seeks the skies,
Temples and Theatres in fplendor rife.
Such be your boaft! here let the Mufe retreat,
Where Pallas long has fixt her fav'rite seat!
If you upon our humble labour fmile,
In happy hour to Shakespeare rofe this Pile.
But, if you frown, our fplendid Scenes decay,
And all our bafelefs fabrick melts away.
Our cloud-capt tow'rs, our gorgeous palaces,
Our mounts, our woods, our rivers, and our feas,
Our folemn temples, and each folemn robe
That ftuffs this wooden O, this little globe,
Shall fade! and like the insubstantial wind,
Or empty dreams, leave not a rack behind.
Smile then, and for your clemency be prais'd,
And, oh! fupport the Building you have rais'd!
On that foundation must we reft alone,
Your patronage our Prop, our Corner-Stone.
PROLOGUE TO THE CAPUCHIN.
Spoken by Mr. FOOTE.
Auguft, 1776.
RITICKS, whene'er I write, in every Scene Discover meanings that I never mean; Whatever character I bring to view,
I am the father of the child 'tis true,
But every babe his christening owes to you.
"The Comick Poet's eye, with humorous air,
Glancing from Watling-street to Grosvenor-fquare,
He bodies forth a light ideal train,
And turns to shape the phantoms of his brain;
Meanwhile your fancy takes more partial aim,
And gives to airy nothing Place and Name.”
A Limner once, in want of work, went down
To try his fortune in a country town;
The waggon, loaded with his goods, convey'd
To the fame spot his whole dead ftock in trade,
Originals and Copies-ready made.
To the new Painter all the country came,
Lord, Lady, Doctor, Lawyer, 'Squire, and Dame,
The humble Curate, and the Curate's wife;
All afk a likeness-taken from the life.
Behold the canvafs on the eafel ftand!
A pallet grac'd his thumb, and brushes fill'd his hand :
But, ah! the Painter's skill they little knew,
Nor by what curious rules of Art he drew.
The waggon-load unpack'd, his ancient store
Furnish'd for each a face drawn long before,
God, Dame, or Hero-of the days of yore.
The Cæfars, with a little alteration,
Were turn'd into the Mayor and Corporation;
To represent the Rector and the Dean,
He added wigs and bands to Prince Eugene :
The ladies, blooming all, deriv'd their faces
From Charles the Second's Beauties and the Graces.
Thus done, and circled in a splendid frame,
His works adorn'd each room, and spread his fame.
The countrymen of taste admire and stare,
сь My Lady's leer! Sir John's majestick air!
Mifs Dimple's languish too!-extremely like !
And in the ftyle and manner of Vandyke!-
Oh this new Limner's pictures always ftrike!
Old, young, fat, lean, dark, fair; or big, or little;
The very man or woman to a tittle!"
Foote and this Limner in fome points agree,
And thus, good firs, you often deal by me.
When, by the Royal Licence and Protection,
I fhew my fmall Academy's collection,
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