The stars are with you, fate is in your hand, } In twelve months time you've vanquish'd half the land; } Be wise, and keep 'em under good command. } This year will to your glory long be known, And deathless ballads hand your triumphs down; Your late atchievements ever will remain, } For tho' you cannot boast of many slain, } Your pris'ners shew, you've made a brave campaign._ } [Illustration] THE MISTAKE. A COMEDY. [Illustration] PROLOGUE, _Written by Mr._ +STEELE+. Spoken by Mr. _Booth_. _Our author's wit and rallery to-night } Perhaps might please, but that your stage delight } No more is in your minds, but ears and sight. } With audiences compos'd of belles and beaux, The first dramatick rule is, have good clothes, To charm the gay spectator's gentle breast, } In lace and feather Tragedy's express'd, } And heroes die unpity'd, if ill-dress'd._ } _The other stile you full as well advance; If 'tis a comedy, you ask----who dance? For oh! what dire convulsions have of late Torn and distracted each dramatick state, On this great question, which house first should sell The new ~French~ steps imported by ~Ruel~! ~Desbarques~ can't rise so high, we must agree, They've half a foot in height more wit than we. But tho' the genius of our learned age } Thinks fit to dance and sing, quite off the stage, } True action, comic mirth, and tragic rage; } Yet as your taste now stands, our author draws Some hopes of your indulgence and applause. For that great end this edifice he made, Where humble swain at lady's feet is laid; Where the pleas'd nymph her conquer'd lover spies, } Then to glass pillars turns her conscious eyes, } And points anew each charm, for which he dies._ } _The muse, before nor terrible nor great, Enjoys by him this awful gilded seat: By him theatric angels mount more high, And mimick thunders shake a broader sky. Thus all must own, our author has done more For your delight, than any bard before. His thoughts are still to raise your pleasures fill'd; To write, translate, to blazon, or to build. Then take him in a lump, nor nicely pry Into small faults that 'scape a busy eye; But kindly, Sirs, consider, he to-day Finds you the house, the actors, and the play: So, tho' we stage-mechanick rules omit, You must allow it in a whole-sale wit._ Dramatis Personæ. MEN.