 | The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley
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LVII
PROLOGUE [TO THE STROULERS]
Beauty and Wit so barely you requite
That had not Nature joyn'd a dear Delight,
No Maid wou'd ever Yield, or Poet write[.]
Yet sometimes Beauty's Lottery sounds a Prize,
And in Alcove the happy Harlot lyes,
While but one Wit can to a Laureat rise[;]
And then a Butt of Sack, and a small Pension,
Is the full summ of his whole Li[f]e's Pretention.
If not stark mad, they'll leave us in the Lurch,
We have but one poor Living in our Church.
Hither you come resolving not to like,
And bold-blind Cocks at every Feather strike:
The Language one, another Damns the Plot,
And briskly hits the Poet, ere he Blot.
And pray be Civil my Young Empty Beaux,
M[e]re Shew yourselves and only Judge of Shows!
Unbend your Critic Brows, For a Young Wench
As soon may like a Judge upon the Bench,
As one of your Censorious Grimaces,
Let Wit alone and trust to your sweet Faces.
No Man or Woman here expects that you
Should Judge or Write, beyond a Billet Doux;
But if you can, pass by each small Offence,
And strain your Wits to find one Excellence,
Tis much the truest, and best sign of Sense.
| The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley
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