University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE, Spoken by Major Mohun, the First Four Dayes.

The Merchant, joyful with the Hopes of Gain,
Ventures his Life and Fortunes on the Main;
But the poor Poet oft'ner does Expose
More than his Life, his Credit, for Applause.
The Play's his Vessel, and his Venture, Wit:
Hopes are his Indies, Rocks and Seas, the Pit.
Yet our good-natur'd Author bids me Swear
He'll Court you still, the more his Fate draws near;
And cannot chuse but blame their Feeble Rage
That Crow at you, upon their Dunghill Stage;
A certain sign they merit to be Curst,
When, to excuse their faults, they cry Whore first.
So oft in their dull Prologues, 'tis exprest,
That Critick now's become no more a Jeast;
Methinks self-intrest in 'em more should Rule;
There's none so impudent to ask a Dole,
And then to call his Benefactor Fool?
They Merit to be Damn'd as well as Poor,
For who that's in a Storm, and hears it roar,
But then would Pray, that never pray'd before?
Yet Seas are calm some times; and You, like those,
Are necessary Friends, but Cursed Foes:
But if amongst you all he has no Friend,
He humbly begs that you would be so kind,
Lay Malice by, and use him as you find.