University of Virginia Library

The PROLOGUE.

You Judges, Criticks, Wits, and Poets too,
And whatsoever Titles are your due;
As pretty Features, each in proper place,
Put altogether, make a pretty face;
So you good Wits, and you that would be so,
You all together make a pretty show;
And when you thus in general Councel sit,
You are the body Politick of Wit:
Unto you all our Poet bid me say,
Good faith you'r kindly welcome to his Play.
'Tis a plain Complement, to speak the truth,
But you must know he is a modest youth;
Like Country Gallant just, whom Courtier brings
To see fine dainty Mis—who playes and sings.
Approaching to'r, poor Gallant falls a mumping,
Scraping o'leggs, and feign he would say something;
And round about the room he flings and skips,
Whil'st tongue lyes still i'th'scabbard of his lips.
Just so our Poet usher'd to the door
To court coy Wits h'ad never seen before,
Wits that have all the sparkish Gallants known,
And tryed th'abilities of all the Town;
Poor bashful Poet, faith, h'ad got his Play
Under his arm, and had run quite away,
Had not we promis'd him to use our skill
And in'trest w'e'e to gain him your good will:
Then faith for once, since he's so eager for't,
Seem kind and coming, though it be for sport;
Then like some Cully on his wedding night,
Thinking his Bride lyes ravisht with delight,
Bestirs his simple self whil'st she lies still,
Laughs at the Fool, and lets him work his will.
So will our Poet to't, and work his brain
To try to entertain you once again;
And if he mends, you that delight to range
With every Youth, may use him then for change;
If not, e'en huff the Fool, and give him o're,
Then he perhaps will trouble you no more.