MOONWALKS ARE HISTORY
Prologue
Launch'd on the bosom of the gentle tide,
With friendly hands its easy course to guide,
With gilded tackling, and with silken sail,
To catch of kind applause a flatt'ring gale.
Say, what strange frenzy of the Poet's brain,
Urg'd his frail bark to tempt the stormy main;
(Far from the kindly safe protecting shore)
Where the winds whistle and the tempest roar?
With such a cargo too, such motley stuff!
For 'tis a strange assortment sure enough.
Some prose, some verse, some merry, and some sad;
Some good, we hope; and much I doubt, some bad;
Some old, some new, some English and some from France,
Tho' not their weeping comedy, nor dance.
An Abbé too! a sight you've seldom seen;
A parrot cloath'd in black, instead of green;
Half church, half lay, half clerk, half militant!
Tho' in a band, the creature will not cant.
He's light too, not o'ercharg'd with cleric lore; -
One good fat parson would outweigh a score:
He will not therefore sink us by his weight,
And if he makes you laugh, he pays his freight.
We're all above board - did not mean to steal,
But to declare our goods, and fairly deal;
All in the legal way of importation,
Tho' there may be some small adulteration.
Some merit yet's our merchant author's plea;
From Gallic chains he sets his drama free;
Where the ears wearied with perpetual rhymes,
Like the dull jingle of their clatt'ring chimes;
Where male and female verse with constant strife,
Drag one sad endless yoke, like man and wife. -
But let our blame be bounded as it ought -
No general censure suits a single fault.
How often mix'd in the same garden grows
The baneful hemlock with the fragrant rose!
And 'tis mere common sense each man relies on,
To chuse the perfume and reject the poison.
In fame, and honour, long their stage has shin'd,
Correct in manners as in taste refined.
We'd not detract an atom from their praise,
But add the Civic to the Muse's bays:
And shou'd the Genius of this happy isle,
On Gallia's sons at length propitious smile;
While in each breast the patriot spirit glows,
We'd hail as brothers, whom we've met as foes:
To the same point their generous ardor tends;
The friends to Freedom, must be Britain's friends,
And may the sovereign Pow'r that rules above,
Unbounded in its wisdom as its love,
To no one Nation, and no spot confined,
Extend that best of blessings to mankind!
False Appearances; A Comedy (1789)
Altered from the French,
And performed at the The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.
By the
Right Hon. General H. Seymour Conway
TO THOSE OF YOU THAT DID ~ IT WAS A PLEASURE
TO THOSE THAT DIDN'T GET TO ~ SORRY TO DISAPPOINT
TO THOSE THAT GO FROM HEREON ~ FAIR WINDS & BON COURAGE!
Andrew Syvret
10 August 2006
