PROLOGUE
TO “ZOBEIDE,” A TRAGEDY.50
Spoken by Mr. Quick.
In these bold times, when Learning’s sons explore
The distant climates, and the savage shore—
When wise Astonomers51 to India steer,
And quit for Venus many a brighter here—
While botanists,52 all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently go simpling—
When every bosom swells with wondrous scenes,
Priests, cannibals, and hoity-toity queens——
Our bard into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.
With Scythian stores, and trinkets, deeply laden,
He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading—
Yet ere he lands, he’s ordered me before,
To make an observation on the shore.
Where are we driven? Our reckoning sure is lost!
This seems a barren and a dangerous coast.
Lord! what a sultry climate am I under!
Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder—
The distant climates, and the savage shore—
When wise Astonomers51 to India steer,
And quit for Venus many a brighter here—
While botanists,52 all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently go simpling—
When every bosom swells with wondrous scenes,
Priests, cannibals, and hoity-toity queens——
Our bard into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.
With Scythian stores, and trinkets, deeply laden,
He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading—
Yet ere he lands, he’s ordered me before,
To make an observation on the shore.
Where are we driven? Our reckoning sure is lost!
This seems a barren and a dangerous coast.
Lord! what a sultry climate am I under!
Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder—
[Upper gallery.
There mangroves spread, and larger than I’ve seen em—
[Pit.
Here trees of stately size, and turtles in ’em—
[Balconies.
Here ill-conditioned oranges abound—
[Stage.
And apples [takes up one, and tastes it], bitter apples, strew the ground.
The place is uninhabited, I fear!
I heard a hissing—there are serpents here;
O, there the natives are—a dreadful race;
The men have tails, the women paint the face.
No doubt they ’re all barbarians—yes, ’tis so;
I’ll try to make palaver with them, though;
’Tis best, however, keeping at a distance.
Good savages, our Captain craves assistance;
Our ship’s well stor’d—in yonder creek we’ve laid her:
His honour is no mercenary trader:
This is his first adventure; lend him aid,
And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far—
Equally fit for gallantry and war.
What! no reply to promises so ample?
I’d best step back, and order up a sample.
The place is uninhabited, I fear!
I heard a hissing—there are serpents here;
O, there the natives are—a dreadful race;
The men have tails, the women paint the face.
No doubt they ’re all barbarians—yes, ’tis so;
I’ll try to make palaver with them, though;
’Tis best, however, keeping at a distance.
Good savages, our Captain craves assistance;
Our ship’s well stor’d—in yonder creek we’ve laid her:
His honour is no mercenary trader:
This is his first adventure; lend him aid,
And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far—
Equally fit for gallantry and war.
What! no reply to promises so ample?
I’d best step back, and order up a sample.