Excerpt from Where to Find a Friend: A Comedy in Five Acts

Prologue,

Written by Mr. Rae, and spoken by Mr. Powell.

In days of yore, a sage, the story ran,
Went grumbling forth to find an honest man,
With lantern glimmering in the open day
The cross old Cynic purblind pok'd his way,
With jaundic'd eye his fellow man survey'd,
And swore that honesty from earth had fled:
To what, you'll say, does this allusion tend?
To this, - I'm puzzled Where to find a Friend,
To you I bow, grave censors of the stage,
We prize your plaudits, and we dread your rage,
To you, who hold the scales of praise and blame,
The critics here peculiar homage claim:
If on our Play this night your brows you bend,
Where shall an Author hope to find a Friend?
Dread is the task in this enlighten'd age,
To face the terrors of the scenic Stage,
To dare the gaze of England's classic mind,
Endow'd with judgment, and with taste refin'd,
Anxious our Author comes, with fear opprest,
Tumultuous feelings agitate his breast,
He sees the sphere where Shakspeare's muse hath shone,
And, trembling, shrinks to plunge the Rubicon:
Illusion all! for here indulgence reigns,
Sheds her enchanting beams, and here her throne maintains.
Friends to this ground! to all I now appeal,
To British minds, which ever kindly feel.
Your smiles can all our apprehensions end,
On this occasion prove the Author's friend,
Grant him the Olive, if denied the bays,
And yield him, "pardon, where you cannot praise."

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