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Account of the Farmer's Return from London; an Interlude. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane; publifbed, in Quarto.
The GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XXXII.
HIS interlude, which has for fome TH time paft entertained the town, at Drury Lane theatre, is embellished with a frontifpiece containing a fkètch of the farmer and his family, of which it is a fufficient recommendation to fay, that it comes from the hand of Hogarth, to whom the author has infcribed the piece, which, we are informed, was written merely with a view of ferving Mrs Pritchard at her benefit night.
The characters of the Interlude, and the persons who represent them, are as follow:
Mr Garrick. Mrs Bradshaw. Mifs Heath, Master Pope, Mafter Cape. The fcene, which is in the farmer's kitchen, opens with the hafty entrance of the wife, calling her children about her, who immediately run in, and are informed of their father's return, Then enters the farmer, prefenting a fine image of a country traveller, and, after kiffing his wife and children round, like a true farmer, employs them all to attend him.
Dick, get me à poipe. [Exit Dick.] Raaph, go to
[reach me a chair.
Gi' poor wench fome oaats. Exis R.] Dame,
Sal draw me fome aal, to wash the dirt down
And then will tell you-of London fine town.
Wife. Fabn! yo've been from me-the
Lord knows how long! [me fome wrong;
Yo've been with fome falfe ones,-and done
Farmer. By the zooks but I han't-so hold
thy fool's tongue.
Some tittups I faw, and they maade me to ftare!
Trick'd noice out for faale, like our cattle at fair:
I ne'er went to op'ras--I thought it too grand
top jokeof all, and what pleas'd me the moaft,
For poor folk to like what they don't understand.
Some wife ones and I fat up with a ghoast.
Wife and children. A ghoaft!
Farmer. Yes, a ghoat!
I fall fwoond away, love!
Farmer. Ödzooks thou'rt as bad as thy
betters above !
Wife. But London, dear Fabn! Farmer. Is a fine hugeous city! Where the geele are all fwens, and the fools are With her nails, and her knuckles, she answer'd all witty! fo noice! [ravoice. For yes the knock'd once, and for no fhe knock'd I afk'd her one thingWife. Farmer.
So tempting, fo fine!-and i'cod very cheap-The
Put, Bridge, I know, as we fow we must reap,
And a cunning old man, will avoid rotten sheep.
[Enter Dick with a pipe and a candle, and Sal with fome ale.]
Wife. But was't thou at court, Jabn!-
What there haft thou feen?
Farmer I faw 'em-heav'n blefs 'em-you know whom I mean.
Here's to 'em-bless them boath-do you take
the jug i
Woud't do their hearts good-I'd fwallow the
Come, pledge me, my boy. [To Dick..]—Hold,
lad, haft nothing to fay?
Dick. Here, daddy, here's to 'em! [Drinks.
Well faid, Dick, boy!
Wift. What more didft thou fee, to beget ad-
Farmer. The city's fine fhow,-but firft the
'Twas thof all the world had been there with
There was ftreet within freet, and houses on
I thought from above, (when the folk fill'd the
The ftreets pav'd with heads, and the walls made
Such juftling and bustling !-'twas worth all the
I hope, from my foul, I fall ne'er fee another. Sal. Dad, what did you fee at the pleays; and the shows! [the fhows? Farmer. What did I fee at the pleays and Why bouncing and grinning, and a pow'r of fine cloaths: [ground! From top to the bottom 'twas all chanted Gold, painting, and mufic, and blaazing all
I heard their healths pray'd for-agen and agen,
With provifo that one may be fick now and ten.
Some looks speak their hearts, as it were with a
O dame-I'll be d➡'d, if they e'er do us wrong:
Above was like Bedlam, all roaring and rattling
Below, the fine folk wore all curts'ying and prat-
At the temple of folly, all croud to the pews.
Strange jumble together-Turks, Chriftians and
Here too doizen'd out, were thofe feame freak ifk
Who keep open market,-tho' fmuggling their
I faw a new pleay too-they call'd it the fcbool-
I thought it poor ftuff-but I tho't like a fool-
'Twas the fchool of-pize on it !-my mem'ry is
The great one's diflik'd it-they heate to be
The crattacks too grumbl'd--I'll tell you for whoy,
They wanted to laugh-and were ready to croy.
Wife. Pray what are your cratticks?
Like watchmen in town,
Lame, feeble, half-blind, yet they knock poets
Like old Juftice Wormwood,—a crattisk's a man,
That can't fin himself- -and he heates thofe
If yo', dame, was true? Wife. And the poor loul knock'd one. Farmer. By the zounds, it was two.
Wife. I'll not be abus'd, Jabn.
Come, prithee no croying, The ghoft, among friends, was much giv'n to loying.
Their boys around, bleft pledges! play their
Some houfes build with chips, fome fwing on
The tender watchful mother fits hard by,
Knitting, awhile the girls raife up dirt pye.
O happy prefage of their future lives,
Useful in arts the boys, the girls domestic wivers
Farewel each thing, each place I fondly know,
To diftant climes poor Corydon must go,
The home-felt joys, beyond expreffion dear,
Ex-Deferve an elegy, a parting tear.
DELIA to LUCIO.
Ear whose fond
No studied forms of language can exprefs,
While, in my verfe, my fofteft thoughts you fee,
And, my whole foul, I thus pour forth to thee.
Say, fhall thefe lines, the name, I hide, impart,
And point their author to my Lucio's heart?
Will he, by correfpondent friendship own,
A verfe, the mufe directs to him alone.
: Wife. I'll tear out her eyes-Farmer. I thought, dame, of matching Your neals againft hers-for you're both good at fcratching.
They may talk of the country, but, I fay, in town,
Their throats are much woider,to fwallow things I'll uphold, in a week-by my troth I don't joke, That our little Sal--fhall fright all the town folk.
CORYDON's farewell, on failing in the late pedition Fleet.
bell, a ram's neck
Farewell the ruftic fong by shepherd fung; Farewell the hungry falcon's cat-like note, As down the glade he ftoops for moufe of float; Farewell the fearful lapwing's chiding quest, When rover ranges near, too near her neft; Farewell the jetty raven's scornful scoff, Who proud, to prouder man, cries out off, off. So fancy forms his ill-betiding croak,
And thou, farewell, that from the hollow oak, The bird of wifdom 'clep'd does fend around, Thy manlike halloes hunters to confound. Imbower'd in birchen groves thou wooing døve, Emblem of fpotlefs innocence and love: Farewell, O fay! with thy companion fate, How oft thou'ft fsen me with as fair a mate, Farewell, the busy hum of bees that bring, Extracted honey from the pride of spring; No more your toil shall Corydon moleft, When buzzing near my Cloe's tender breast, Whether to fting her was your fad intent, Or, whether sweets to fteal, was all ye meant. Farewell each hill, each dale, each confcious grove.
Adieu each witnefs of my conftant love.
Farewell of diftant bells the liquid found,
That while I lay fretch'd careless on the ground,
Would foftly undulate along the glade,
And bring fuch news as pleafing fancy made.
Happly a wedding, or, an heir may be,
Or glorious vict'ry gain'd by land and fea;
For joy, the very fairies dance and fing,
And leave their footsteps in a verdant ring.
The bells in triple cadence other times
At matins please the ear in fofter chimes:
When good old dowager opprefs'd with cares,
Or maiden aunt with Jacky fteals to pray'rs.
The evening koell reminds us of our folly,
And fubftitutes a pleafing melancholy.
Farewell the lonely cot in neatness dreft,
Which neighb'ring 'fquire does annually inveft,
With decent liv'ry of pureft white,
A pleasing object to allure the fight;
Fix'd near a fpacious wood of aged oak, [Imoke,
Which shows the chimney's noon-day azure
Near it a limpid ftream for ever flows,
Where linnen-fuited Sal for water goes,
To boil her cates, or wash her cotton hofe.
A neat cut hedge that can with túlíps vie,
Where Sally hangs her favours out to dry.
Farewell the woodman's hem at ev'ry ftroke,
Who hems and inter-whiftles (bearts of bak.)
The fawyers working in the iamoft wood,
Attentive hear the tune, and think it good.
They make their motions with the measure
All arms now rife and fall in perfect time;
Turn hopeless thought, from whence my forrows flow;
My thought rebels, and wakens ev'ry woe:
Pleafure is vain, and vain is ev'ry art,
To drive thy dear remembrance from my heart 3
Which fix'd and conftant to its fav'rite flame,
In fpite of time, and diftance is the fame,
Still feels thy abfence, equally fevere,
Nor taftes, without thee, a delight fincere.
For ftill is all my foul, by thee ingroft,
To friendship, pleasure, ev'n to int'reft loft:
The aid of Reafon, I, in vain implore,
And fair Philofophy, has force no more;
Alike, with others, or from others free,'
My foul steals ever to converfe with thee !
Whate'er the different track my thoughts pursue,
Thy lov'd idea ever meets my view,
Of ev'ry joy, of ev'ry with a part,
It rules each varying motion of my heart.
Yes, my fond verfe, fhall celebrate the day,
On which I gave my virgin heart away;
On which my love, I plighted to my fwain,
A fmiling day on April's changeful train ;
True emblem of the love he then profefs'd,
A vernal day, in all its beauty drea:
But foon the tranfient funshine is withdrawn,
And fudden fhow'rs defcend o'er all the lawn;
The feather'd choir, their harmony give o'er,
And feel thy genial warmth, O Sun, no more:
As that fair orb of bright cæleftial flame,
From the clear brook reflected feems the fame,
So won by tender love, devoid of art,
Reflected is thy image from my heart,
(Yielding as wax) thy form my heart retains,
Th'impreffion, as on adamant remains.
Why wer't thou, charming youth, fo form'd to
Or, why was all my foul, fo form'd to love, [move,
Why did't thou feek my artlefs heart to gain,
Or, rather, why ar't now a faithlefs fwain,
Was it, that I too foon thy vows believ'd?
Thou waft fincere, or I was well deceiv'd.
I thought unchang'd thy paffion would remain,
And, that thy gentle heart I could retain,
When lift ning to thy foft prevailing tongue,
With pleasure, trembling on thy voice I hung,
Thy voice was fweeter than the fofteft ftrings,
Thine eyes had light'ning, but thy heart had
The GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XXXII.
Marriage itself, could need no grace divine,
To fix its ftamp upon fuch love as thine,
What friend deterr'd us from the facred ties,
What phrenzy fnatch'd us from each others eyes,
No more we meet on fome appointed day,
No more in fighs, our facred thoughts convey,
Can ought retrieve this fad reverse of fate,
Thou may'ft repent, and yet repent too late.
Why was there once transporting pleasure
Or why, alas! are now thofe pleasures flown;
To foften cenfure, let me fpeak the cause,
Which urg'd thee on, to break love's facred laws:
In thee 'twas duty, bound by nature's law
To proud Ambition with a filial awe.
But ceafe my mufe, no more pursue this train,"
But ftrike fome fofter ftring to footh my pain,
And wonted peace, fhall fill my foul again.
What notes fo fweet, to this frail heart that
("Or the rapt feraph's that adores, and burns,")
As love divine, the bright enliv'ning theme,
Of angels fongs, eternally the fame.
With them, with faints, and all the heav'nly
A virgin mufe attempts to join the lyre. [choir,
All-gracious God, (indulgently fevere)
Who mak'st our trueft happiness thy care;
Thefe crofs events of life, thy love defign'd,
To prove the latent forces of the mind.
To thee, my father, and my friend, I turn,
I feel my breaft with purer ardours burn,
O power fupreme! my heart's to thee inclin'd,
Increase my faith, and rectify my mind;
Drive this destructive paflion from my breast,
Compofe my forrows, and reftore my reft,
Show me the path, the fainted virgins tred,
And bring a wand'rer back to thee her God.
May ev'ry bleffing be my Lucio's share,
And angels guard him, with peculiar care,
Through flow'ry paths, fecurely may he tread,
By Fortune follow'd, and by Virtue led;
White health, and cafe, in ev'ry look exprefs,
The glow of beauty, and the balm of peace,
Late may he feel the gentle hand of death,
As rofes droop, beneath the zephyr's breath,
Then, peaceful reft awhile conceal'd in earth,
Till the glad fpring of nature's fecond birth,
Then quit the tranfient winter of the tomb,
To rife, and flourish in immortal bloom.
O may I meet my Lucio in that place,
Where, not his prefence can improve my bliís,
Tho' heav'n itself, will friendship ne'er deftroy,
(Angels from friendship gather half their joy,)
The fame bright flames in raptur'd feraph's glow,
As warm confenting tempers here below;
'Tis one attraction, angel, mortal, binds,
Virtue, which forms the unifon of minds;
Friendship, the foft harmonious touch affords,
And gently strikes the fympathetic chords,
Th' agreeing notes in focial measures roll,
And the sweet concert flows from foul to foul.
My lovely friend, to whom (indulgent heav'n)
The noblest means of happiness has giv'n,
See Faith, with fteady fteps direct the road,
That leads unerring to the fov'reign good;
See Virtue's hand, immortal joys bestow,
That ever new, in fair fucceffion flow.
From joys unfix'd, that in poffeffion die,
From falfhood's paths, my deareft Lucio fly.
Farewell, my love! my friend! I ask this grace,
Grant me, within thy heart, a fiftèr's place,
To the Memory of an Officer killed before Quebec.
what forrows are born to hear!
A How many caufes claim the falling tear!
In one fad tenor life's dark current flows,
And every moment has its load of woes :
In vain we toil for vifionary ease,
Coy happiness ne'er bleffes human eyes;
Or hope for bleffings in the vale of peace :
Or but appears a moment, and then flies.
When peace itself can feldom dry the tear,
Where undiftinguifh'd ruin reigns o'er all,
What floods demand the dreary waftes of war!
At once the truant and the valiant fall;
Where timeless throuds inwrap the great and
And Daphne finks into a nameless grave. [brave,
Dear hapless youth! cut off in early bloom,
No friendly hand to grace thy fall was near,
A fair, but mangled victim for the tomb,
No favour'd maid to clofe thy languid eyes,
No parent's eye to fhed one pious tear;
And fend thee mindful of her to the fkies:
Oh! honour'd living, but neglected dead!
On fome cold bank thy decent limbs were laid,
So foon forfake us dear lamented fhade,
To mix obfcurely with the nameless dead!
Thus baulk the rifing glory of thy name,
And leave unfinish'd an increaûng fame!
Thus fink for ever from a parent's eyes!
Wert thou not cruel? or ye partial, fkies?
The fad, fad forrows of the friend you lov'd!
But what can bound, O'thou, by all approv'd
A friend who doted on thy worth before!
A friend who never fhail behold thee more!
Who faw combin'd thy manly graces rife,
To please the mind, and blefs the ravith'd eyes;
A foul replete with all that's great and fair,
A form which cruel favages might fpare,
If, in the midnight-hour, lamented fhade, You view the place where thy remains are laid; If pale you hover o'er your fecret grave, Or, viewlefs, flit o'er Hofbelega's wave;
O when my troubled foul is funk in reft,
And peaceful flumbers footh my anxious breaft
To fancy's eyes in all thy bloom appear,
Once more thy own unfully'd image wear;
Unfold the fecrets of your world to me,
Tell what thou art, and what I foon shall be,
He comes! he cornes! but, oh! how chang'd of late!
How much deforms the leaden hand of fate!
Why do I fee that gen'rous bofom gor'd?
What rudeness ruffled that diforder'd hair?
Why bath'd in blood the vifionary fword?
Why, blameless thade,that mournful aspect wear?
For, fure, fuch virtues must rewarded be,
And heav'n itfelf approve of Wolf and thee,
Yes!thou art bleft above the rolling fphere;
'Tis for myfelf, not thee, I shed the tear.
Where fhall I now fuch blameless friendship find,
Thou laft, beft comfort of a drooping mind?
To whom the preffures of my foul impart,
Transfer my forrows and divide my heart?
Remote is he who ruled my breast before;
And he fha!! footh me into peace no more.
Men born to grief, an unrelenting kind,
Of breafts difcordant, and of various mind,
*The river St Laurence.
'Poetical ESSAYS; APR FLC 1962.
Le Refponfé du Roi.
O a charactere.
N remarque, pour l'ordinaire,
Scarce 'midft of thousands find a fingle friend.
If heaven, at length, the precious bleffing fend;
A fudden death re-calls him from below;
A moment's blifs is paid with years of woe.
What boots the ruling figh ? in vain we weep,
We too, like him, anon must fall asleep;
Life, and its furrows too, fhall foon be o'er,
And the heart heave with bursting fighs no more.
Death fhed oblivious reft on ev'ry head,
And one dull filence reign o'er all the dead.
To the Rev. Mr LNG HR NE.
HORACE B. 2. 0. 14. imitated.
WITH how impetuous a career
Runs out of fight the rapid year!
Believe me, L--ngb-rn, tho' we pray,
Like my good grandame, thrice a day,
Old age and coughs, and aches and agues,
In spite of piety will plague us.
Time out of mem'ry has been mad,
And gallops over good, and bad.
Tityus and Geryon triple-fold,
The Broughton and the Slack of old,
Felt both alack! a fatal day ;-
And are we half as hard as they?
Afiduous Charon, quick as thought,
With ling'ring culls will cram the boat,
Nor will he bend or bate the leaft
To Dick the fquire, or thee the priest.
What tho' you fcape the wind and rain,
Nor teaze for gold the fretful main,
Ne'er be by grace or fenfe forfook,
To cut a purfe, or make a book;
You foon muft quit your cure, to be
With Sifypbus and company.
Ah! then at last the love-ftruck fwain
Shall ceafe of Sylvia to complain!
You'll---won't you, think on many a day
That you and I have laugh'd away,
Of many a fmiling focial scene,
Of many a gambol on the green;
And look confoundedly afkew
On footy cyprefs and dull yew?
Indeed if grapes or barley grow,
Or fnipe or woodcock fly below,
The fight fame fmall rehef may be;
But not a Gingle trout you'll fee.
To fifh (you'll cry) in fuch a flood!
O curled Cocytœan mud!
Was it for this I wore my eyes
In forming artificial flies?
Was it for this, that better far
I threw my line than y C---?
When you are dead, and fair and clear
Our common fheets of fong appear,
Your fon will think they ferve to fhew
Your brains and mine were but fo---fo.
He'll fee how you have flily. fole
From Seed and South your fermons whole ;
He'll wonder how you could for thame,
Then thake his head, and do the fame.
M. de Voltaire a la Princffe Amelie de Pruffe. Ouvent un de verite
Se mele dans la plus grofliere menfonge. Cette nuit dans l'erreur d'un fonge Au Rang des rois j'etois montè;
Je vous aimois alors, et j' ofois vous le dire. Les dieux a mon reveil ne m'ont pas tout otà; Je n'ai perdu que mon empire.
Un heros peut rever qu il paflè le Rhin, Un marchand qu'il a fait fortune, Un chien qu'il aboye a la lune :
Mais quand Voltaire en Pruffe, pour fair le faquin, $' imagine etre Roi
Ma foi ce'ft abufer d'un fonge.
Voltaire to the Princefs Amelia of Prussia,
OME truth we may defcry, Ev'n in the greatest lye. To night I dream'd I fat Enthron'd in regal state: To love you then I dar'd, Nay, more, that love declar'd; And when I woke, one half I still retain'd; My kingdom vanish'd, 'but my love remain'd,
The King's Anfwer.
With characters agree. Thus heroes pass the Rhine,. And merchants count their coin, And maftiff's bay the moon: But when, conceited loon !
Voltaire, here dreams of empire, on my word Thus to abute a dream is moft abfurd.
Lizzy's Birth-day, April 5tb.
His is thy birth day! this the happy morn,
On which, with thee, Virtue herself was
"Tis true, no public joys proclaim'd thy birth;
Save the gay foliage of the verdant earth:
No Village-Nimrod in his frantic glee,
But all the feather'd fongfters welcom'd thee :,
No crowding fycophants from day to day,
Came to admire the babe-but more the tea :
But then, th' impartial Sun with much delight,
Stopt to behold the beauteous, lovely fight.
And may he fees thee, each revolving year,
Bleft as thou'rt good, and happy as thou'rt fair
See thee in ev'ry focial virtue fhine,
Smile without art, and win without design:
See thee in innocence and peace array'd,
The pious, lovely, virtuous, heav'nly maid!
If tend'reft withes can protect thy thread, Late, fhalt thon mingle with the filent dead. And, when that period comes, O think on this, That 'tis thy birth-day to eternal blifs.
Y the declaration delivered to the
minifters, refiding at Petersburgh, (jee P. 103.) it is evident that the Emperor of Ruffa confiders the war carried on against the King of Pruffia as unjuft and that therefore he cannot be bound to fulfil the engagements into which his predeceffor had been drawn by the artifices of the Auftrian, French, and Saxon minifters.
As this war was unavoidable on the part of his Pruffian majefty, the Czar, for his part, means to reftore the kingdom of Pruffia, and evacuate Col. berg; and he expects that the Emprefs Queen will not only lay afide all thoughts of recovering Silefia, but alfo give up Schweidnitz and the county of Glaz, which her troops never could have taken had Ruha kept out of the war; that the French fhall restore the duchy of Cleves, Guelders, the counties of Mark and Meurs, and that the Swedes thall evacuate the conquefts they fhail have made upon Prufia. The latter, no doubt, will readily comply; but the fame is not to be hoped from Auftria and France. On the contrary, the Emprefs Queen offers to make peace with his Pruffian majesty on no other terms than thofe of the uti poffidetis, that is, the demands the county of Glatz and the principality of Schweidnitz. But the king will agree to no difmemberment of Silefia.
To account for this fudden change in the politics of the Ruffian court, a confpiracy is faid to have been difcovered by the late Czarina before her death, for fetting afide the fucceffion, by affaffinating the prefent Emperor. In this confpiracy, the French party were deeply concerned.
The convention between the Emperor of Ruffia and his Prufian majefty, for a general ceffation of hostilities, was figned at Stargard the 16th inft. by Prince Wolkonsky, and the Duke of Bevern. The Emperor has given 300,000 roubles to the inhabitants of Pomerania, who have fuffered most in this war, and ordered the magazines that were formed in that part, to be diftributed amongst them.
At Hamburgh they are almost as apprehenfive of a war between Ruha and Denmark, as they are at Copenhagen. They dread being treated in that event, as Bremen hath been; and that Denmark, in conjunction with France, is meditating to take poffeffion of their city, and to hold it till the conclufion of the war.
Lubeck is still more afraid, as the poffeffion of that place would facilitate to the Ruffians an entry into the Danish territories.
It is further reported, that the K. of Pruffia hath required the magiftrates of Lubeck to deliver up to him all the young fellows of Mecklenbourgh, of whatever rank or condition, who have retired to their city; threatning, in cafe of refufal, to employ force. The magistrates made anfwer, that Lubeck being a free Hanfeatic town, to which all who pleafed might retire, they would maintain their rights to the last extremity.
In Sweden measures have taken a fudden turn. The court party is grown all at once fo numerous, that it hath greatly the afcendant over the other; or rather, party is abolished, and king, states, and fenate, are all of one mind with regard to the pacific fyftem to be purfued in the prefent conjuncture, In confirmation of this news, letters from Mecklenbourgb take notice, that the Pr. of Wurtemberg and Col. Belling, are both preparing to leave that duchy, in order to march into Saxony with the troops under their command. Hence it is concluded, that a treaty of peace is on the carpet between Sweden and Pruffia.
Letters from various parts of Germany take notice, that a negociation between the courts of Berlin and Vienna is certainly in great forwardness; and that at the approaching coronation of the Czar, the publick will be acquainted with an affair of great importance.
The Dutch writers affirm, that the differences between Denmark and Ruf fia were nearly adjusted, under the mediation of Great Britain and Prufia; and that an alliance is forming, in confequence of which, Denmark is to furnish England with 12 ships of the line, and to put into British pay 25,000 Danes, who are to join the allied army.
The court of Vienna, till of late, has anfwered with great haughtiness to all the overtures of peace that have been made to her by the contending powers; but the declarations that have been made to her by the new Czar, of fupporting the K. of Prufa in cafe the equitable conditions of peace were again rejected, has occafioned great confufion in the imperial councils; the preparations for war are lefs vigorous, and the plan of operations more embarraffed than ever; the generals, are, indeed,