A Prologue, Spoke by Mr Brimyard, in the Character of a Sailor, at North-Shields

Hollo! my masters, where d'ye mean to stow us?
We're come to see what pastime ye can shew us;
Sal, step aloft,—you shan't be long without me,
I'll walk their quarter deck and look about me.

Tom and Dick Topsail are above—I hear 'em,
Tell 'em to keep a birth, and Sal—sit near 'em:
Sal's a smart lass, I'd hold a butt of stingo
In three week's time she'd learn the playhouse lingo:
She loves your plays, she understands their meaning,
She calls 'em—MORAL RULES made entertaining;
Your Shakespear books, she knows 'em to a tittle.
And I, myself (at sea) have read—a little.

At London, Sirs, when Sal and I were courting,
I tow'd her ev'ry night a playhouse sporting,
Mass! I cou'd like 'em and their whole 'PARATUS,
But for their fiddlers and their damn'd SONATAS;
Give me the merry sons of guts and rosin,
That play—God save the King and Nancy Dawson.

Well—tho' the frigate's not so much dedoyzen'd,
'Tis snug enough!—'Tis clever for the size on't:
And they can treat with all that's worth regarding
On board the Drury-lane or Common-Garden.

Avast!—A signal for the launch, I fancy:
What say you Sam, and Dick, and Doll, and Nancy,
Since they have trim'd the pleasure-barge so tightly,
Shan't you, and I, and Sal, come see them nightly!
The jolly crew will do their best endeavours,
They'll grudge no labour to deserve your favours.
A luckier fate, they swear, can ne'er behap 'em
Than to behold you pleas'd, and hear you—clap 'em.