 | The Broken Heart |  |
The Prologue.
Ov'r Stane is Sparta. HE whose best of ArtHath drawne this Peece, cals it the Broken Heart.
The Title lends no expectation here
Of apish laughter, or of some lame Ieere
At place or persons, no pretended clause
Of iest's fit for a brothell Courts' applause
From vulgar admiration: such low songs,
Tun'd to vnt hast eares, suit not modest tongues.
The Virgine Sisters then deseru'd fresh bayes
When Innocence and Sweetnesse crown'd their layes.
Then vices gasp'd for breath, whose whole Commerce
Was whip'd to Exile by vnblushing verse.
This law we keept in our Presentment now,
Not to take freedome more then we allow;
What may be here thought a fiction, when Times youth
Wanted some riper yeares, was knowne A Truth:
In which, if words haue cloath'd the subiect right,
You may pertake, a Pitty, with Delight.
| The Broken Heart | |