University of Virginia Library

THE PROLOGUE, Spoken by Mr. Smith.

Prologues of old, as learned Authors say,
Us'd, to have some Coherence, with the Play,
Were not so much, for Ornament, as use;
Like necessary Porches, to a House;
They, to the Inner Rooms, did introduce.
But now, such is the custom of the Age,
A rough hewn Satyr, enters first, the Stage.
Who barks, bites, pushes, and at all does hit,
Pelts Men, and manners, with his wicked witt,
Grinns at the Court, the Country, and the Citt,
And sometimes snaps, you Criticks, in the Pitt.
Such is the Rage, that one Poetick Brother,
Falls foul with, and downright, rails at another,
And tho, the play, be moving, soft, and sweet,
And Verses run, on smooth, and even feet,
And tho it does of Love, and Honour treat,
And shews a body, soft, fair, gay, and neat,
The Prologue still, has a rough Satyr's face,
Which does the moving, sweet, soft, thing, disgrace
What e're the Play be, Custom does prevail,
It must be Satyr, in its Head, and Tail.
But Gentlemen, our Author bid me say,
He'd have no Satyrs face, before his Play,
Nor should it have, tho it be much in Vogue,
A swinging Tail, a lashing Epilogue.
Ladys, to you, he does himself address,
From you, he would receive, his happiness,
If your fair hands, shall his endeavours bless,
He will not fear, the Criticks of the Pit,
Those Cursing, Damning, Mugletons, of Wit.