"SAT EST SCRIPSISSE"

And yet they had their office. Though they today are passed,

They marched in that procession where is no first or last;

Though cold is now their hoping, though they no more aspire,

They too had once their ardour-they handed on the fire.

PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES

PROLOGUE TO ABBEY'S EDITION OF

IN

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER "

IN the year Seventeen Hundred and Seventy and Three,

When the GEORGES were ruling o'er Britain the free, There was played a new play, on a new-fashioned

plan,

By the GOLDSMITH who brought out the GoodNatur'd Man.

New-fashioned, in truth-for this play, it appears, Dealt largely in laughter, and nothing in tears, While the type of those days, as the learned will

tell ye,

Was the CUMBERLAND whine or the whimper of KELLY.

So the Critics pooh-poohed, and the Actresses pouted,

And the Public were cold, and the Manager doubted;

But the Author had friends, and they all went to see it.

Shall we join them in fancy? You answer, So be it!

Imagine yourself then, good Sir, in a wig,

Either grizzle or bob-never mind, you look big. You've a sword at your side, in your shoes there are buckles,

And the folds of fine linen flap over your knuckles.