University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE.

Dry.
This radiant Circle, reverend Shakespear, view;
An Audience only to thy Buskin due.

Shakes.
A Scene so noble, antient Greece ne'er saw,
Nor Pompey's Dome, when Rome the World gave Law.
I feel at once both Wonder and Delight,
By Beauty warm'd, transcendently so bright,
Well, Dryden, might'st thou sing; well may these Hero's fight.

Dryd.
With all the outward Lustre, which you find,
They want the nobler Beauties of the Mind.
Their sickly Judgments, what is just, refuse,
And French Grimace, Buffoons, and Mimicks choose;
Our Scenes desert, some wretched Farce to see;
They know not Nature, for they tast not Thee.

Shakes.
Whose stupid Souls thy Passion cannot move,
Are deaf indeed to Nature and to Love.
When thy Ægyptian weeps, what Eyes are dry!
Or who can live to see thy Roman dye.

Dryd.
Thro' Perspectives revers'd they Nature view,
Which give the Passions Images, not true.
Strephon for Strephon sighs; and Sapho dies,
Shot to the Soul by brighter Sapho's Eyes:
No Wonder then their wand'ring Passions roam,
And feel not Nature, whom th'have overcome.
For shame let genal Love prevail agen,
You Beaux Love Ladies, and you Ladies Men.

Shakes.
These Crimes unknown, in our less polisht Age,
New seem above Correction of the Stage;
Less Heinous Faults, our Justice does pursue;
To day we punish a Stock-jobbing Jew.
A piece of, Justice, terrible and strange;
Which, if pursu'd, would make a thin Exchange,
The Law's Defect, the juster Muse supplies,
Tis only we, can make you Good or Wise,
Whom Heav'n spares, the Poet will Chastise.
These Scenes in their rough Native Dress were mine;
But now improv'd with nobler Lustre shine;
The first rude Sketches Shakespear's Pencil drew,
But all the shining Master stroaks are new.
This Play, ye Criticks, shall your Fury stand,
Adorn'd and rescu'd by a faultless Hand.

Dryd.
I long endeavour'd to support thy Stage,
With the faint Copies of thy Nobler Rage,
But toyl'd in vain for an Ungenerous Age.
They starv'd me living; nay, deny'd me Fame,
And scaree now dead, do Justice to my Name.
Wou'd you repent? Be to my Ashes kind,
Indulge the Pledges I have left behind.