Prologue to Zobeide

A TRAGEDY. WRITTEN BY JOSEPH CRADDOCK, ESQ. ACTED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN, MDCCIXXII. SPOKEN BY MR. QUICK.

I N these bold times, when learning's sons explore
The distant climates, and the savage shore;
When wise astronomers to India steer,
And quit for Venus many a brighter here;
While botanists , all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently — go simpling,
Our bard into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.
With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden,
He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading —
Yet ere he lands he has order'd me before
To make an observation on the shore.
Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost!
This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast.
Lord, what a sultry climate am I under!
Yon ill foreboding cloud seems big with thunder.
There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em —
Here trees of stately size — and billing turtles in 'em —
Here ill conditioned oranges abound —
And apples, bitter apples strew the ground:
The inhabitants are cannibals I fear:
I heard a hissing — there are serpents here!
O, there the people are — best keep my distance;
Our captain (gentle natives) craves assistance;
Our ship's well stor'd — in yonder creek we've laid her,
His honour is no mercenary trader.
This is his first adventure, lend him aid,
And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far,
Equally fit for gallantry and war.
What, no reply to promises so ample?
— I'd best step back, and order up a sample.
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