In the first rise and infancy of farce, When fools were many, and when plays were scarce The raw unpractis'd authors could, with ease, A young and unexperienc'd audience please:...
The mightiest choir of song that memory hears Gave England voice for fifty lustrous years. Sunrise and thunder fired and shook the skies That saw the sun-god Marlowe's opening eyes....
When Shakespeare soared from life to death, above All praise, all adoration, save of love, As here on earth above all men he stood That were or are or shall be, great, and good,...
As the music plays a soft air, the curtain rises slowly and discovers an Indian boy and girl sleeping under two plantain-trees; and, when the curtain is almost up, the music turns into a tune expressing an alarm, at which the b...
Since faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of fashion, Their penny scribes take care to inform the nation, How well men thrive in this or that plantation:...
POETS, like lawful monarchs, ruled the stage, Till critics, like damn'd Whigs, debauch'd our age. Mark how they jump: critics would regulate Our theatres, and Whigs reform our state:...
If yet there be a few that take delight In that which reasonable men should write; To them alone we dedicate this night. The rest may satisfy their curious itch With city-gazettes, or some factious speech,...
Fire, and behind the breathless flight of fire Thunder that quickens fear and quells desire, Make bright and loud the terror of the night Wherein the soul sees only wrath for light....
'Tis much desired, you judges of the town Would pass a vote to put all prologues down: For who can show me, since they first were writ, They e'er converted one hard-hearted wit?...
The wind that brings us from the springtide south Strange music as from love's or life's own mouth Blew hither, when the blast of battle ceased That swept back southward Spanish prince and priest,...
As when a tree's cut down, the secret root Lives under ground, and thence new branches shoot; So from old Shakspeare's honour'd dust, this day Springs up and buds a new reviving play:...
Authors are judged by strange capricious rules; The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: Yet sure the best are most severely fated; For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated....
Sweet as the dewfall, splendid as the south, Love touched with speech Boccaccio's golden mouth, Joy thrilled and filled its utterance full with song, And sorrow smiled on doom that wrought no wrong....
Discord and plots, which have undone our age, With the same ruin have o'erwhelm'd the stage. Our house has suffer'd in the common woe, We have been troubled with Scotch rebels too....
What Greece, when learning flourish'd, only knew, Athenian judges, you this day renew; Here too are annual rites to Pallas done, And here poetic prizes lost or won....