University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE.

Applause is grown a strange Coy Mrs. now;
Courted by All, and yet obtain'd by few.
'Tis true, when any Favourites Plays appear,
Then Kindness and Good-nature brings you here:
And to secure the Censures of the Town,
The Pit is fill'd with Friends in the Fore-noon;
And those five long expecting hours you stay,
Are spent in making Proselytes to th'Play.
Such Favour is not common; nor are Wit
And Sense the only means of gaining it.
That happy Man, the Author, you commend,
Must be at once a Poet and a Friend:
Honour'd by the acquaintance of the Great;
His Conversation Eminent, as his Wit.
And as th'effect of your kind Influence,
We've seen such refin'd Fancy, so much sense,
Such Plays as do deserve so much Applause,
They need no Favour to support their Cause.
But since our Author wants that Interest,
And those perfections which delight you best;
And none of those kind leading Votes can boast,
Let not his Play for his hard Fate be lost.
What if our Author be not one of You;
Wit should like Coyne pass currant from a Jew:
And should not its Esteem like Medals hold,
Where th'Image more than weight gives price to th'Gold.
Gallants, let Wit the Fate of Beauty find;
Be to it, wheresoe're you meet it, kind:
I'm sure Variety best pleases there.
The Mrs. you maintain Gay, Brisk, and Fair,
Does not so much your stock of Kindness reap;
But you can spend some hours on Joys more cheap.
And so
On humble Writers let some favours fall;
Let not the Dons of Wit engross you all.