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SAMUEL JOHNSON, L. L. D.

DEAR

SIR,

By inferibing this flight performance to you, I

do not mean fo much to compliment you as myself. It may do me fome honour to inform the public, that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may ferve the interefts of mankind alfo to inform them that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety.

I have, particularly, reafon to thank you for your partiality to this performance. The undertaking a comedy, not merely fentimental, was very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who faw this piece in its various stages, always thought it fo. However, I ventured to truft it to the public; and, though it was neceffarily delayed till late in the feafon, I have every reason to be grateful. I am,

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PROLOGUE,

B Y

DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

Enter Mr. WOODWARD, dreffed in Black, and holding a handkerchief to his Eyes.

EXCUSE me, Sirs, I pray—I can't yet speak—

I'm crying now- and have been all the week.

"Tis not alone this mourning fuit," good masters: "I've that within"-for which there are no plafters! Pray, would you know the reason why I'm crying? The comic mufe, long fick, is now a dying! And if he goes, my tears will never stop; For as a play'r, I can't fqueeze out one drop; I am undone, that's all-fhall lofe my breadI'd rather, but that's nothing-lofe my head. When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier, Shuter and I fhall be chief mourners here. To her a mawkish drab of fpurious breed, Who deals in Sentimentals, will fucceed! Poor Ned and I are dead to all intents; We can as foon speak Greek as Sentiments! Both nervous grown, to keep our spirits up, We now and then take down a hearty cup.

What

What shall we do?-If Comedy forfake us! They'll turn us out, and no one elfe will take us. But, why can't I be moral?-Let me tryMy heart thus preffing-fix'd my face and eyeWith a fententious look, that nothing means, (Faces are blocks, in fentimental fcenes) Thus I begin "All is not gold that glitters, "Pleasures seem fweet, but prove a glafs of bitters. "When ign'rance enters, folly is at hand:

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Learning is better far than houfe and land.

"Let not your virtue trip, who trips may ftumble, "And virtue is not virtue, if the tumble."

I give it up morals won't do for me;
To make you laugh, I must play tragedy.
One hope remains-hearing the maid was ill,
A Doctor comes this night to fhew his fkill,
To cheer her heart, and give your muscles motion,
He, in Five Draughts prepar'd, prefents a potion:
A kind of magic charm-for be assur'd,
If you will swallow it, the maid is cur'd:
But defp'rate the Doctor, and her cafe is,
If you reject the dofe, and make wry faces!
This truth he boafts, will boaft it while he lives,
No pois'nous drugs are mix'd in what he gives.
Should he fucceed, you'll give him his degree
If not, within he will receive no fee!

The college you, muft his pretenfions back,
Pronounce him Regular, or dub him Quack.

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