University of Virginia Library

The Prologue.

Troth Gentlemen, I know not what to say
Now I am here, but you shall have a play;
I hope there are none met but freinds if you
Be pleas'd to hear me first, I'le tell you true,
I doe not like the Prologue, 'tis not smart,
Not aery, then the play is not worth a—
What witty Prologues have we heard? how keen
Upon the tyme, how tickling o'the spleen?
But that wits gone, and wee in these sad dayes
In corse dull fleam, must preface to our playes,
I'le shew you what our Author meant should be
His Prologue,—Gentlemen, he shall pardon me
I dare not speak a line, not that you need
To fear a satire in't, or wit in deed.
He would have you beleeve no language good,
And artfull, but what's cleerly understood,
And then he robs you of much mirth, that lyes
I'th' wonder, why you laugh at Comedies.
He saies the tymes are dangerous, who knowes
What treason may be wrapt in giant prose,
Or swelling verse, at least to sense? nay then
Have at you Mr. Poet, Gentlemen,
Though he pretend fair, I dissemble not,
Y'are all betray'd here to a Spanish plot
But doe not you seem fearfull; as you were
Shooting the bridge, let no man shift, or stir,
I'le fetch you of, and two houres hence you may
(If not before) laugh at the plot, and play.