The PROLOGUE.
Long has a race of Heroes fill’d the ſtage,
That rant by note, and thro’ the gamut rage;
In ſongs, and airs, expreſs their martial fire,
Combat in trills, and in a feuge expire;
While lull’d by ſound, and undiſturb’d by wit,
Calm and ſerene, you indolently ſit;
And from the dull fatigue of thinking free,
Hear the facetious fiddle’s rapartee;
Our home-ſpun authors muſt forſake the field,
And Shakeſpear to the ſoft Scarlatti yield.
To your new taſte, the poet of this day,
Was by a friend advis’d to form his play;
Had Valentini muſically coy,
Shun’d Phædra’s arms, and ſcorn’d the proffer’d joy,
It had not mov’d your wonder to have ſeen,
An Eunuch fly from an enamour’d queen.
How would it pleaſe, ſhould ſhe in Engliſh ſpeak,
And could Hippolitus reply in Greek?
We have been induced to tranſcribe theſe lines of Mr. Addiſon, in order to have the pleaſure of producing ſo great an authority in favour of the Engliſh drama, when placed in contradiſtinction to an entertainment, exhibited by Eunuchs and Fidlers, in a language, of which the greateſt part of the audience are ignorant; and from the nature of which no moral inſtruction can be drawn.
The chief excellence of this play certainly conſiſts in the beauty and harmony of the verſification. The language is luxuriantly poetical. The paſſion of Phædra for her huſband’s ſon has been conſidered by ſome critics as too unnatural to be ſhwen on the ſtage; and they have obſerved that the poet would have written more ſucceſsfully if he had con-
