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The Prologve.
Y'are welcome Gentlemen to Tot'nam-Court,Where You (perhaps) expect some lusty sport;
Such as rude Custome doth beget in May,
When straggling Numbers court that joviall day
With early Riot. No such thing must be
The Subject of our easie Comedie.
What then! a humorous, fiery, red-fac'd Host,
That will discourse his Guest into more cost
Then's Cheere is worth: and lyes with so much credit,
As if 'twere Truths Authoritie, He se'd it,
Nor this! The Avthor surely then intends
Some Gowne-man of the Towne, that dayly spends
A thrifty Penny, to preserve his Lungs,
For a full Voyce 'midst the contentious throngs.
But heere is no such Satyre: nor is't fit
Abuse should bee the exercise of Wit.
To feast your sense and minds for Cakes and Ale,
New, and not stal'd with handling, heere's a Tale
Drest up of a faire Milke-maid; whose chast Theame
Shall close your stomacks up in stead of Creame.
Cook'ry and Wit are like: the selfe same Meat
Delights one's tast, another cannot eat.
So 'tis in Fancie's Worke: this loves a jest;
That Language; Matter pleaseth t'other best.
Our Play's not larded with great store of these:
And how the relish of their salt will please
'Tis doubtfull. Yet We are the lesse affraid;
Because Your Reck'ning is before-hand paid.
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