 | The Tragedy of Messallina, The Roman Emperesse |  |
The Prologue.
To write a Tragedy is no such easeAs some may thinke, 'mongst whom ther's a disease
Still of dislike, censuring what ere is writ
With ignorance; onely to be thought a wit.
Playes are like severall meates, their strange effects
So different prove, some carelesly neglect
What others long for, that which surfets thee,
Another sayes tis good, gives life to me.
What's to be done? the way to please you all
Requires an Art, past Magick naturall.
Our best endeavours still with Comick fare
Have striv'd to please; now all our cost and care,
Soares on the wings of labour'd industrie;
To feast your sences with the Tragedy
Of Roman Messallina, the Play is new,
And by Romes fam'd Historians confirm'd true.
We hope you'l not distaste it, nor us blame,
Where spots of life are acted to sinnes shame.
Tell me I pray? can there be no content?
To see high towring sinnes just punishment
And Vertues prayse; insatiate lust to die,
And chast Dames star'd unto Eternitie,
Will not this please? if any answer no,
I, let that soule and all the world to know,
Your loves the marke we ayme at, all our might,
Shootes at your love, labours to hit that white.
| The Tragedy of Messallina, The Roman Emperesse | |