A Prologue to the Play of Queene Elizabeth as it was last
revived at the Cock-pit, in which the Author
taxeth the most corrupted copy now imprinted,
which was published
without his consent.
Prologue.
Playes have a fate in their conception lent,
Some so short liv'd, no sooner shew'd, than spent;
But borne to day, to morrow buried, and
Though taught to speake, neither to goe nor stand.
This: (by what fate I know not) sure no merit,
That it disclaimes, may for the age inherit.
Writing 'bove one and twenty; but ill nurst,
And yet receiv'd, as well perform'd at first,
Grac't and frequented, for the cradle age,
Did throng the Seates, the Boxes, and the Stage
So much; that some by Stenography drew
The plot: put it in print: (scarce one word trew:)
And in that lamenesse it hath limp't so long,
The Author now to vindicate that wrong
Hath tooke the paines, upright upon its feete
To teach it walke, so please you sit, and see't.
Epilogue.
The Princesse young Elizabeth y'have seene
In her minority, and since a Queene.
A Subject, and a Soveraigne: in th' one
A pittied Lady: in the royall Throne
A potent Queene. It now in you doth rest
To know, in which she hath demeand her best.
