 | Alcibiades |  |
PROLOGUE spoken by Mr. Harris.
Never did Rymer greater hazard run,'Mongst us by your severity undone:
Though we alas! to oblige ye have done most,
And bought ye pleasures at our own sad cost:
Yet all our best endeavours have been lost.
So oft a States-man lab'ring to be good,
His Honesty's for Treason understood:
Whilst some false flatt'ring Minion of the Court,
Shall play the Traytor, and be honour'd for't.
To you known Judges of what's sence, and wit
Our Authour swears he gladly will submit.
But there's a sort of things infest the Pit,
That will be witty, spight of Nature too,
And to be thought so, haunt and pester you.
Hither somtimes those wou'd-be Witts repair,
In quest of you; where if you not appear,
Crys one—Pugh! Dam me what do we do here?
Strait up he starts, his Garniture then puts
In order, so he Cocks, and out he struts.
To th'Coffee-House, where he about him looks:
Spyes Friend, crys Jack—I've been to Night at th'Dukes:
The silly Rogues are all undone my Dear,
I gad! not one of sence that I saw there.
Thus to himself he'd Reputation gather
Of Wit, and good Acquaintance, but has neither.
Wit has indeed a Stranger been of late,
'Mongst its pretenders nought so strange as that.
Both Houses too to long a Fast have known,
That coursest Non-sence goes most glibly down.
Thus though this Trifler never wrote before,
Yet Faith he ventur'd on the common score:
Since Non sence is so generally allow'd,
He hopes that his may pass amongst the Crowd.
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