University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE.

Through our last Age has been no Prologue us'd,
In which the Audience have not been abus'd;
As if the Poet in a railing Way
Shou'd beg you, for the Profit of his Play,
To come and be call'd Fools on his Third Day.
Ours here, by sad Experience grown more wise,
Having an empty House before his Eyes,
Resolves to be more Civil than the rest,
And will not lose a Friend to break a Jest.
I told him well writ Satyr wholsome was;
And that no worthy Man would break the Glass,
That shew'd him handsomely his homely Face.
He answer'd, 'twas the Vice of all Mankind
To be to their own Imperfections blind.
Hump Backs, says he, seem straight to your Town Beau's;
The Olive colour'd Phyz, and pimpled Nose,
Like Lilies fair, tho' blushing like a Rose.
Let Errors ne're so much themselves display,
You'l bear no Lenten Lecture in a Play;
But hating Satyr leave us in the Lurch,
And shun the Play-house, as you do the Church;
Severely cry the Poets Labour down,
That shows you Vices, too much like your own.
How oft have I a sullen Critick seen,
Chewing the Cud of an insipid Spleen,
That seem'd to say—in troth that Scenes well writ;
But I won't like it to be thought a Wit:
Good natur'd Judgment seldom is prevailing,
There's nothing shews a Man of Parts like Railing.
To all compos'd of Courtly Critick Mold
These truths must never be at all times told:
Plain Dealing's rude, and will provoke their Spight
To hiss, like Butchers, when they take delight,
To set two snarling Bull-dogs on to bite.
Ah, Sirs, this was not your Forefathers Way,
When Cloak and Ruff sat snug at a long Play:
Actors ne're gave, nor Audience took, offence;
What ere could make 'em laugh, was solid Sence.
But now you'l scarce stay out one Play in Ten;
Nay faith, whats worst, take your half Crowns agen:
A barbarous Custome that, almost as bad
As your old Hectoring customary Trade,
Of giving Chloris for her use ten Pound;
Then beating the poor Jade, till she refund.
Our Poet then imploring the old way,
Intreats you to be civil to his Play,
And not at all times show your selves severe
But feast for once on solemn Lenten Fare.
He shows the Miseries of Marriage forct,
Of all Estates in humane Life the worst:
A Heroe murder'd too, a Man as brave,
As Heaven yet ere to bless a Nation gave:
Wit, Justice, Valour, all his Fame advance;
And has no fault, but that he comes from France.