Theatre Royal in Covent-Garden.. Regulated from the Prompt-Book, Printed for JOHN BELL, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York. MDCCLXXVII, PROLOGU E. Wonder not our author doubts fuccefs, Had Ic'rus been content with folid ground, But your true modern is a carrier's horfe, Foam at our mouths, and thunder on the fage Our author holds, that what be spoke was profe. A CHILLE S.. The lines diftinguished by inverted comas, thus,' are omitted in the Reprefentation, and thofe printed in Italics are the additions of the Theatre. EFORE I leave you, child, I must infift upon your BEFORE, tear you will never difcover yourself without my leave. Don't look upon it as capricious fondness, nor think (because 'tis a mother's advice) that, in duty to yourself, you are obliged not to fol'low it. Ach. But my character, my honour-Would you bave your fon live with infamy? On the first step of a young fellow, depends his character for life. I beg you, goddefs, to difpenfe with your commands. Thet. Have you, then, no regard to my prefentiment? I can't bear the thoughts of your going; for I • know that odious fiege of Troy would be the death • of thee. Ach. Becaufe you have the natural fears of a mother, • would you have me infenfible that I have the heart of a man? The world, Madam, muft look upon my abfconding in this manner, and at this particular juncture, as infamous cowardice. • AIR I. A clown in Flanders once there was. What's life? No curfe is more fevere, Than bearing life with fhame. Is this your fondnefs, this your care? A 3 Thet. |