 | The Emperovr of the East |  |
Prologue at Court.
As euer (Sir) you lent a gratious eareTo oppress'd innocence, now vouchsafe to heare
A short petition. At your feete in mee
The Poet kneeles, and to your Maiestie
Appeales for iustice. What wee new present,
When first conceiu'd, in his vote and intent,
Was sacred to your pleasure; in each part
With his best of fancie, iudgment, language, art,
Fashiond, and form'd so, as might well, and may
Deserue a wellcome, and no vulgar way.
Hee durst not (Sir) at such a solemne feast
Lard his graue matter with one scurrilous ieast,
But labour'd that no passage might appeare,
But what the Queene without a blush might heare.
And yet this poore worke suffer'd by the rage,
And enuie of some Catos of the stage:
Yet still hee hopes, this Play which then was seene
With sore eyes, and condemn'd out of their spleen,
May bee by you, The supreme iudge, set free,
And rais'd aboue the reach of calumnie.
| The Emperovr of the East | |