 | The Ordinary |  |
The Prologue.
'Twould
wrong our Author to bespeake your Eares;
Your Persons he adores, but Judgement feares:
For where you please but to dislike, he shall
Be Atheist thought, that worships not his Fall.
Your Persons he adores, but Judgement feares:
For where you please but to dislike, he shall
Be Atheist thought, that worships not his Fall.
Next to not marking, 'tis his hope that you
Who can so ably judge, can pardon too.
His Conversation will not yet supply
Follies enough to make a Comedy;
He cannot write by th' Poll; nor Act we here
Scenes, which perhaps you should see liv'd elsewhere;
No guilty line traduceth any; all
We now present is but conjecturall;
'Tis a meere ghesse: Those then will be too blame,
Who make that Person, which he meant but Name.
Who can so ably judge, can pardon too.
His Conversation will not yet supply
Follies enough to make a Comedy;
He cannot write by th' Poll; nor Act we here
Scenes, which perhaps you should see liv'd elsewhere;
No guilty line traduceth any; all
We now present is but conjecturall;
'Tis a meere ghesse: Those then will be too blame,
Who make that Person, which he meant but Name.
That web of Manners which the Stage requires,
That masse of Humors which Poetique Fires
Take in, and boyle, and purge, and try and then
With sublimated follies cheat those men
That first did vent them, are not yet his Art,
But as drown'd Islands, or the World's fifth Part
Lye undiscover'd; and he only knows
Enough to make himselfe ridiculous.
Think then, if here you find nought can delight,
He hath not yet seen Vice enough to write.
That masse of Humors which Poetique Fires
Take in, and boyle, and purge, and try and then
With sublimated follies cheat those men
That first did vent them, are not yet his Art,
But as drown'd Islands, or the World's fifth Part
Lye undiscover'd; and he only knows
Enough to make himselfe ridiculous.
Think then, if here you find nought can delight,
He hath not yet seen Vice enough to write.
| The Ordinary | |