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PREFACE

TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

ZOBEIDE was introduced at Covent Garden

"Les

Theatre by Mrs. Yates. It was taken in part from an unfinished Tragedy, entitled, Scythes," by Mons. de Voltaire, who, in consequence of its completion, was pleased to honour the author with an English letter and couplet, which are now prefixed. The Play was received with very great applause, and had a full run, which may be attributed to the excellent acting of Mrs. Yates and Mr. Smith, as well as that of other performers, who made every possible exertion. It has now been revised and corrected, and may so far be more worthy of a critical perusal. The Prologue and Epilogue were supplied by the Author's kind friends, Dr. Goldsmith and Mr. Murphy.

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"Thanks to your Muse, a foreign Copper shines, Turn'd into Gold, and coin'd in Sterling lines.

"You have done too much honour to an old sick man of eighty.

"I am, with the most sincere esteem and gratitude,

"Sir,

"Your obedient servant,

"VOLTAIRE.”

PROLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY DR. GOLDSMITH.

SPOKEN BY MR. QUICK.

IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore
The distant climate 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;
When every bosom swells with wond'rous scenes,
Priests, canibals, and hoity-toity queens:
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 'as ordered me before,

To make an observation on the shore.

Where are we driven? Our reck'ning sure is lost!
This seems a barren and a dangerous coast.
Lord what a sultry climate am I under!
You ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder.
(Upper Gallery.)

There Mangroves spread, and larger than I've

seen 'em

(Pit.)

Here trees of stately size-and turtles in 'em

(Balconies.)

Here ill-condition'd oranges abound

(Stage.)

And apples (takes up one and tastes it) bitter

apples strew the ground.

The place is uninhabited I fear!

I heard a hissing-there are serpents here!
O there the natives are-a dreadful race!
The men have tails, the women paint the face!
No doubt they're all barbarians-Yes, 'tis so,
I'll try to make palaver with them though; (making
'Tis best however keeping at a distance.

signs.)

Good Savages, our Captain 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,

Or you may chance to spoil 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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