A Prologue, Spoke at Edinburgh, on Mrs Bellamy's First Appearance There

In early days, when error sway'd mankind,
The scene was censur'd, and the stage confin'd;
As the fine arts a nobler taste supply'd,
Old prejudice grew fainter—droop'd—and dy'd.

Merit from sanction must deduce her date,
If she'd arrive at a meridian height;
From sanction is the English stage become
Equal to Athens, and above old Rome.

If from that stage, an actress fill'd with fears,
New to this northern scene, to-night appears,
Intent—howe'er unequal to the flight,
To hit—what criticks call—the happy right:
She builds not on your sister's fond applause,
But timidly to you submits her cause.
For taste refin'd may as judicial sit
Here—as she found her, in an English pit.

Your plaudit must remove the stranger's fear;
The sons of genius are the least severe:
Some favour, from the fair, she's sure to find,
So sweet a circle cannot but be kind;
Then to your candid patronage she'll trust,
And hopes you gracious—as we know you just.