The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase · Chapter 25The Play-House
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Where gentle Thames through stately channels glides, And England's proud metropolis divides; A lofty fabric does the sight invade, And stretches o'er the waves a pompous shade; Whence sudden shouts the neighbourhood surprise, And thundering claps and dreadful hissings rise. Here thrifty R——[16] hires monarchs by the day, And keeps his mercenary kings in pay; With deep-mouth'd actors fills the vacant scenes, And rakes the stews for goddesses and queens: _10 Here the lewd punk, with crowns and sceptres graced, Teaches her eyes a more majestic cast; And hungry monarchs with a numerous train Of suppliant slaves, like Sancho, starve and reign. But enter in, my Muse; the stage survey, And all its pomp and pageantry display; Trap-doors and pit-falls, form the unfaithful ground, And magic walls encompass it around: On either side maim'd temples fill our eyes, And intermixed with brothel-houses rise; _20 Disjointed palaces in order stand, And groves obedient to the mover's hand O'ershade the stage, and flourish at command. A stamp makes broken towns and trees entire: So when Amphion struck the vocal lyre, He saw the spacious circuit all around, With crowding woods and rising cities crown'd. But next the tiring-room survey, and see False titles, and promiscuous quality, Confus'dly swarm, from heroes and from queens, _30 To those that swing in clouds and fill machines. Their various characters they choose with art, The frowning bully fits the tyrant's part: Swoln cheeks and swaggering belly make an host, Pale, meagre looks and hollow voice a ghost; From careful brows and heavy downcast eyes, Dull cits and thick-skull'd aldermen arise: The comic tone, inspir'd by Congreve, draws At every word, loud laughter and applause: The whining dame continues as before, _40 Her character unchanged, and acts a whore. Above the rest, the prince with haughty stalks Magnificent in purple buskins walks: The royal robes his awful shoulders grace, Profuse of spangles and of copper-lace: Officious rascals to his mighty thigh, Guiltless of blood, the unpointed weapon tie: Then the gay glittering diadem put on, Ponderous with brass, and starr'd with Bristol-stone. His royal consort next consults her glass, _50 And out of twenty boxes culls a face; The whitening first her ghastly looks besmears, All pale and wan the unfinish'd form appears; Till on her cheeks the blushing purple glows, And a false virgin-modesty bestows. Her ruddy lips the deep vermilion dyes; Length to her brows the pencil's arts supplies, And with black bending arches shades her eyes. Well pleased at length the picture she beholds, And spots it o'er with artificial molds; _60 Her countenance complete, the beaux she warms With looks not hers: and, spite of nature, charms. Thus artfully their persons they disguise, Till the last flourish bids the curtain rise. The prince then enters on the stage in state; Behind, a guard of candle-snuffers wait: There swoln with empire, terrible and fierce, He shakes the dome, and tears his lungs with verse: His subjects tremble; the submissive pit, Wrapt up in silence and attention, sit; _70 Till, freed at length, he lays aside the weight Of public business and affairs of state: Forgets his pomp, dead to ambitious fires, And to some peaceful brandy-shop retires; Where in full gills his anxious thoughts he drowns, And quaffs away the care that waits on crowns. The princess next her painted charms displays, Where every look the pencil's art betrays; The callow squire at distance feeds his eyes, And silently for paint and washes dies: _80 But if the youth behind the scenes retreat, He sees the blended colours melt with heat, And all the trickling beauty run in sweat. The borrow'd visage he admires no more, And nauseates every charm he loved before: So the famed spear, for double force renown'd, Applied the remedy that gave the wound. In tedious lists 'twere endless to engage, And draw at length the rabble of the stage, Where one for twenty years has given alarms, _90 And call'd contending monarchs to their arms; Another fills a more important post, And rises every other night a ghost; Through the cleft stage his mealy face he rears, Then stalks along, groans thrice, and disappears; Others, with swords and shields, the soldier's pride, More than a thousand times have changed their side, And in a thousand fatal battles died. Thus several persons several parts perform; Soft lovers whine, and blustering heroes storm. _100 The stern exasperated tyrants rage, Till the kind bowl of poison clears the stage. Then honours vanish, and distinctions cease; Then, with reluctance, haughty queens undress. Heroes no more their fading laurels boast, And mighty kings in private men are lost. He, whom such titles swell'd, such power made proud, To whom whole realms and vanquish'd nations bow'd, Throws off the gaudy plume, the purple train, And in his own vile tatters stinks again. _110