Page images
PDF
EPUB

Ah! I loves Life, and all the joys it yieldsSays Madam Fuffock, warm from Spitalfields. Bone Tone's the space 'twixt Saturday and Monday, And riding in a one-horse chair o'Sunday! 'Tis drinking tea on fummer afternoons

At Bagnigge-Wells, with China and gilt spoons,! 'Tis laying-by our stuffs, red cloaks, and pattens; To dance Gow-tillions, all in filks and fattins!

Vulgar! cries Mifs.

The feather'd fpinster,

Obferve in higher life and thrice-feather'd wife!

The CLUB'S Bon Ton. Bon Ton's a conftant trade Of Rout, Feftino, Ball, and Masquerade!

'Tis Plays and Puppet-fhews; 'tis fomething new;
'Tis loûng thousands ev'ry night at Lu!
Nature it thwarts, and contradicts all reafon;

'Tis ftiff French ftays, and Fruit when out of feafon!
A Rofe, when Half a Guinea is the price;
A fet of Bays, fcarce bigger than fix mice;
To vifit friends, you never wish to see;
Marriage 'twixt thofe, who never can agree;
Old Dowagers, dreft, painted, patch'd and curl'd;
This is Bon Ton, and this we call the WORLD!

True, fays my Lord; and thou, my only son, Whate'er your faults, ne'er fin against BON TON!

[ocr errors][merged small]

Who toils for learning at a Publick School,
And digs for Greek and Latin, 'is a fool!
French, French, my boy's the Thing! jafez! prate,
chatter!

Trim be the mode, whipt fyllabub the matter!
Walk like a Frenchman! for on English pegs
Moves native aukwardness with two left legs.
Of courtly friendship form a treacherous league;
Seduce men's daughters, with their wives intrigue;
In fightly femi-circle round your nails;

Keep your teeth clean-and grin, if small talk
fails-

But never laugh, whatever jeft prevails!

Nothing but nonfenfe e'er gave laughter birth,
That vulgar way the vulgar fhew their mirth.
Laughter's a rude convulfion, sense that justles,
Disturbs the cockles, and diftorts the muscles.
Hearts may be black, but all should wear clean faces;
The Graces, Boy! the Graces, Graces, GRACES!
Such is BON TON! and walk this City thro',
In Building, Scribbling, Fighting, and Virtù,
And various other fhapes, 'twill rife to view.
To night our Bayes, with bold but careless tints,
Hits off a sketch or two, like Darly's prints.
Should Connoiffeurs allow his rough draughts strike 'em,
"Twill be BON TON to fee 'em and to like 'em.

}

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

On opening the THEATRE ROYAL, at LIVERPOOL, for the

TH

Winter Seafon.

Spoken by Mr. YOUNGER.
October, 1774.

HE troops, who lately fhone in bright array,
Proud on these plains their banners to display,
Call'd to their posts in town by beat of drum,
Aided with fresh recruits I hither come.

I, your old Serjeant, once again appear,
Happy to fix my Winter-quarters here;

Here, where Good-humour fhews her fmiling mien,
And Judgment with fair Candour ever seen.
Oh for a foul of flame, that might inspire,
Thro' all our ranks, a truely-martial fire!
But, oh! my breath is weak, my words are vain,
My efforts poor, the mighty point to gain.
What tho' in ev'ry breaft ftrong ardours glow,
On you alone their longing eyes they throw.
Your frowns at once their nóbleft fpirit damp,
And strike a terror thro' our little camp;
Yet, if you fmile, again their hopes return,
Again their fouls with love of glory burn;

$3

Eager

Eager to fight, to conquer, or to fall,
From firft to hindmoft-Pioneers and all.
Nerveless and finewless their arms, 'tis true;
But yet 'tis glory to contend for you.

As fome low hind, whose poverty's confefs'd,
Receives beneath his roof fome mighty gueft,
Dried winter fruits, alas! his only cheer,
His only liquor fome October beer,

Makes up in welcome what he wants in store,
Wifhing his morfel better, riches more,
Spreads with a willing heart his humble board,
And freely empties all his little hoard;

So we too, confcious of our homely fare,
Truft to your fmiles to fnatch us from defpair.
Fall on with hearty ftomachs to regale,
Let not nice tafte, but appetite, prevail;
While we, plain landlords, a kind welcome give,
Bless'd if we please you, whom to please we live!

[ocr errors]

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE,

To the revived Comedy called EASTWARD HOE.
Spoken by MR. KING.

IN

November 9, 1775.

N Charles the Second's gay and wanton days, When lords had wit and gentlemen wrote plays, A rural 'fquire was term'd a country Put, And the grave City was a ftanding butt. To town, like oxen, honeft knights were led, To fhew in droves, huge antlers on their head. Gallants in queft of game, cried Eastward Hoe! And oft fprung Pufs within the found of Bow; While ev'ry 'prentice in the galleries chuckled At London Alderman dubb'd London Cuckold.

But now the times are chang'd, and chang'd the jeft; For Horns, fome fay, fprout nobly in the Weft. The murrain 'mongft horn'd cattle fpreads fo far, 'It rages on each fide of Temple-bar.

The modifh citizen o'erleaps his ward,

And the gay Cit plants Horns upon My Lord;

While Beaux, whofe wives of flattery chew the cud, Are dupes full-blown, or Cuckolds in the bud.

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »