University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE Spoken by Major Mohun.

Poets in Prologues (to cajole the Age)
Have spent such stocks of Wit upon the stage,
That 'tis become the hardest part o'th' Play,
They've said so much, there's little left to say.
Yet Criticks, you new Miracles attend,
As if Wits Treasurie cou'd know no end.
Like cruel Landlords, who do never weigh
Hard times, or dammage, when 'tis Quarter day;
With eager expectation you destrain
For Wits Excise upon our Poets brain,
And for a Prologue, you old custom cite:
They writ with ease who first began to write;
All fancies then were fresh, all theams were new;
Wit's ransack'd now from China, to Peru.
Nay, here at home, all fancies are as stale,
Some flatter, some intreat, and others rail:
And this last Method we must needs confess,
Has of all others met the most success:
But our new Poet dares not take this Course,
He wou'd intreat, but not your likings force;
For if your Charity don't help him out,
He does protest he then must turn Bankrupt:
Not with design (as knavish Bankers do)
For he'l not break and then compound with you;
But fairly to you, his whole interest quit,
And give you up the forfeit of his Wit.