DRAMATIS PERSONAE

As originally acted at COVENT GARDEN THEATRE in 1775

 

 Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE
  CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE
  FAULKLAND
  ACRES
  Sir LUCIUS O’TRIGGER
  FAG
  DAVID
  THOMAS
  Mrs. MALAPROP
  LYDIA LANGUISH
  JULIA
  LUCY
  Maid, Boy, Servants, &c.

 

SCENE — Bath.

 

Time of action — Five hours.

 

PROLOGUE
By the AUTHOR

[Enter SERJEANT-AT-LAW, and ATTORNEY following, and giving a paper.]

SERJEANT
  What’s here! — a vile cramp hand! I cannot see
  Without my spectacles.

ATTORNEY
                        He means his fee.
  Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good sir, try again. [Gives money.]

SERJEANT
  The scrawl improves! [more] O come, ’tis pretty plain.
  Hey! how’s this? Dibble! — sure it cannot be!
  A poet’s brief! a poet and a fee!

ATTORNEY
  Yes, sir! though you without reward, I know,
  Would gladly plead the Muse’s cause.

SERJEANT
                                      So! — so!

ATTORNEY
  And if the fee offends, your wrath should fall
  On me.

SERJEANT
        Dear Dibble, no offence at all.

ATTORNEY
  Some sons of Phoebus in the courts we meet,

SERJEANT
  And fifty sons of Phoebus in the Fleet!

ATTORNEY
  Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent sprig
  Of bays adorns his legal waste of wig.

SERJEANT
  Full-bottom’d heroes thus, on signs, unfurl
  A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl!
  Yet tell your client, that, in adverse days,
  This wig is warmer than a bush of bays.

ATTORNEY
  Do you, then, sir, my client’s place supply,
  Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tie —
  Do you, with all those blushing powers of face,
  And wonted bashful hesitating grace,
  Rise in the court, and flourish on the case. [Exit.]

SERJEANT
  For practice then suppose — this brief will show it, —
  Me, Serjeant Woodward, — counsel for the poet.
  Used to the ground, I know ’tis hard to deal
  With this dread court, from whence there’s no appeal;
  No tricking here, to blunt the edge of law,
  Or, damn’d in equity, escape by flaw:
  But judgment given, your sentence must remain;
  No writ of error lies — to Drury Lane:
    Yet when so kind you seem, ’tis past dispute
  We gain some favour, if not costs of suit.
  No spleen is here! I see no hoarded fury; —
  I think I never faced a milder jury!
  Sad else our plight! where frowns are transportation.
  A hiss the gallows, and a groan damnation!
  But such the public candour, without fear
  My client waives all right of challenge here.
  No newsman from our session is dismiss’d,
  Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list;
  His faults can never hurt another’s ease,
  His crime, at worst, a bad attempt to please:
  Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all,
  And by the general voice will stand or fall.