 | The Dvkes Mistris |  |
The Prologue.
So various are the pallates of our AgeThat nothing is presented on the Stage,
Though nere so square, and apted to the Lawes
Of poesy, that can winne full applause,
This likes a story, that a cunning plot
This wit, that lines, here one, he know's not what.
But after all this looking severall wayes,
We do obserue the generall guests to Playes,
Meet in opinion of two straines: that please
Satire, and wantonnes, the last of these
Though old, if in new dressing it appeare
Will move a smile from all, but shall not heare.
Our Author hath no guilt of scurrile friends.
For Satire they do know best what it meanes,
That dare apply, and if a Poets Pen,
Ayming at generall errors not the men,
'Tis not his fault, the safest cure is, they
That purge their bosomes, may see any Play.
But here we quit your feare of Satire too,
And with these disadvantages to you
Thus humbly bow, to such helpes tane away
What hope is there many will like the Play,
But good or bad, have patience but two howers,
The Poets credit is at stake with ours.
| The Dvkes Mistris | |