 | Changes : Or, Love in a Maze |  |
Prologus.
That Muse whose Song within another SpheareHath pleased some, and of the best, whose eare
Js able to distinguish straines that are
Cleare, and Phebean, from the popular;
And sinfull dregs of the adulterate braine,
By mee salutes your Candor once againe;
And begs this noble favour, that this place.
And weake performances may not disgrace
His fresh Thalia; 'las our Poet knowes
Wee have no name, a torrent overflowes
Our little Iland, miserable wee,
Doe every day play our owne Tragedy:
But 'tis more noble to create than kill,
Hee saies, and if but with his flame, your will
Would fayne, wee may obtaine some Warmth, and prove
Next them that now doe surfeit with your love.
Encourage our beginning, nothing grow
Famous at first, and Gentlemen, if you
Smile on this barren Mountaine, soone it will,
Become both fruitfull and the Muses hill.
| Changes : Or, Love in a Maze | |