ORE cibum portans catulus dum spectat in undis,
Apparet liquido prædæ melioris imago:
Dum speciosa diu damna admiratur, et alte
Ad latices inhiat, cadit imo vortice præceps
Ore cibus, nec non simulacrum corripit una.
Occupat ille avidus deceptis faucibus umbram
Illudit species, ac dentibus aëra mordet.
[BILLET TO A COMPANY OF PLAYERS.
The enclosed prologue is formed upon the story of the secretary's not allowing you to act, unless you would pay him 3001. per annum; upon which you got a licence from the lord mayor to act as strollers.
The prologue supposes, that, upon your being forbidden to act, a company of country strollers came and hired the playhouse, and your clothes, &c, to act in.]
OUR set of strollers, wandering up and down,
Hearing the house was empty, came to town;
And, with a licence from our good lord mayor,
Went to one Griffith, formerly a player:
Him we persuaded, with a moderate bribe,
To speak to Elrington and all the tribe,
To let our company supply their places,
And hire us out their scenes, and clothes, and faces.
Is not the truth the truth? Look full on me;
I am not Elrington, nor Griffith he.
When we perform, look sharp among our crew,
There's not a creature here you ever knew.
The former folks were servants to the king;
We, humble strollers, always on the wing.
Now, for my part, I think, upon the whole,
Rather than starve, a better man would stroll.
Stay! let me see-Three hundred pounds a-year,
For leave to act in town!-'Tis plaguy dear.
Now, here's a warrant; gallants, please to mark,
For three thirteens, and sixpence to the clerk.
Three hundred pounds! Were I the price to fix,
The public should bestow the actors six;
A score of guineas, given underhand,
For a good word or so, we understand.
To help an honest lad that's out of place,
May cost a crown or so; a common case:
And, in a crew, 'tis no injustice thought
To ship a rogue, and pay him not a groat.
But, in the chronicles of former ages,
Who ever heard of servants paying wages?
I pity Elrington with all my heart;
Would he were here this night, to act my part!
I told him what it was to be a stroller;
How free we acted, and had no comptroller:
In every town we wait on Mr May'r,
First get a licence, then produce our ware;
We sound a trumpet, or we beat a drum:
Huzza! (the schoolboys roar) the play'rs are come!
And then we cry, to spur the bumpkins on,
Gallants, by Tuesday next we must be gone.
I told him, in the smoothest way I could,
All this, and more, yet it would do no good.
But Elrington, tears falling from his cheeks,
He that has shone with Betterton and Wilks,
To whom our country has been always dear,
Who chose to leave his dearest pledges here,
Owns all your favours, here intends to stay,
And, as a stroller, act in every play :
And the whole crew this resolution takes,
To live and die all strollers, for your sakes;
Not frighted with an ignominious name,
For your displeasure is their only shame.
A pox on Elrington's majestic tone!
Now to a word of business in our own.
Gallants, next Thursday night will be our last :
Then without fail we pack up for Belfast.
Lose not your time, nor our diversion miss,
The next we act shall be as good as this.
MR HOPPY'S BENEFIT-NIGHT, AT SMOCK-ALLEY.
[This piece, which relates, like the former, to the avaricious demands which the Irish secretary of state made upon the company of players, is said, in the collection called "Gulliveri. ana," to have been composed by Swift, and delivered by him
at Gaulstown House. But it is more likely to have been written by some other among the joyous guests of the Lord Chief Baron, since it does not exhibit Swift's accuracy of numbers.]
HOLD! hold, my good friends; for one moment, pray stop ye,
I return ye my thanks, in the name of poor Hoppy.
He's not the first person who never did write,
And yet has been fed by a benefit-night.
The custom is frequent, on my word I assure ye,
In our fam'd elder house, of the Hundreds of Drury.
But then you must know, those players still act on
Some very good reasons, for such benefaction.
A deceas'd poet's widow, if pretty, can't fail;
From Cibber she holds, as a tenant in tail.
Your emerited actors, and actresses too,
For what they have done (tho' no more they can do)
And sitters, and songsters, and Chetwood and G-,
And sometimes a poor sufferer in the South Sea;
A machine-man, a tire-woman, a mute and a
spright,
Have been all kept from starving by a benefit-night. Thus, for Hoppy's bright merits, at length we have found
That he must have of us ninety-nine and one pound,
Paid to him clear money once every year:
And however some think it a little too dear,
Yet, for reasons of state this sum we'll allow,
Tho' we pay the good man with the sweat of our brow.
First, because by the king to us he was sent, To guide the whole session of this parliament. To preside in our councils, both public and private, And so learn, by the bye, what both houses do
When bold B- roars, and meek M- raves,
When Ash prates by wholesale, or Be-h by halves,
When Whigs become Whims, or join with the Tories;
And to himself constant, when a member, no more is,
But changes his sides, and votes and unvotes ;
As S-t is dull, and with S-d, who dotes ;
Then up must get Hoppy, and with voice very low,
And with eloquent bow, the house he must show,
That that worthy member, who spoke last, must
give
The freedom to him, humbly, most to conceive,
That his sentiment, on this affair, isn't right;
That he mightily wonders which way he came by't:
That, for his part, God knows, he does such things
disown;
And so, having convinced him, he most humbly sits down.
For these, and more reasons, which perhaps you
Pounds hundred this night, and one hundred this
And so on we are forc'd, tho' we sweat out our blood,
To make these walls pay for poor Hoppy's good;
To supply with rare diet his pot and his spit;
And with richest Margoux to wash down a tit bit.
To wash oft his fine linen, so clean and so neat,
And to buy him much linen, to fence against sweat:
All which he deserves; for altho' all the day,
He oft times is heavy, yet all night he's gay;
And if he rise early to watch for the state,
To keep up his spouts he'll sit up as late.
Thus, for these and more reasons, as before I did
Hop has got all the money for our acting this play, Which makes us poor actors look je ne sçai quoy.
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