University of Virginia Library

THE PROLOGUE To King Charles the Eighth.

Now the rough sounds of War our ears invade,
Some think the Muses should retire to shade,
And there like mournful Birds with hanging wing,
Alone and sad some doleful ditty sing:
For now our Gallants all to Sea are gone,
Muses as well as Misses are undone,
And both of 'um must to their grief allow,
They can expect but sorry Trading now;
But though kind Miss may sit at home and whine
For some brisk airy Sir, that kept her fine;
Wit has not so much reason to complain,
And Wit no more then Beauty can abstain.
Hot English mettle must to working fall,
And do for love e're they'l not do at all.
Let dull Dutch tilt over a smoaky Stove,
Sit sighing for the loss of some fatt love;
Let frighted Burgers—
Shut up their Shops, and to their Fate submit,
Whilst we keep ope' both Shops of Trade and Wit;
Whilst our brisk Criticks are become their Fate,
And damn the Farce of their Mechanick State.
You gentle Sirs, that here behind remain,
VVe with a Martial Play will entertain;
You shall see VVars and Death as well as they,
But it shall be in a much safer way:
Nay, now their backs are turn'd we'l watch our time,
And be so bold to fight and die in Rhime;
For our dull Author swears he only aspires,
To please the City wives and Countrey Squires;
And all the sober audience of the Town,
Those of the long Robe and talking Gown,
VVith serious men of Trade, who well or ill,
Seldom good men protest a Poets Bill;
'Mongst whom all stuff does find such present vent,
VVe durst ensure our Playes at Three per Cent.
VVith these our Authors dull insipid Rhime,
He durst not have produce'd another time,
He hopes is safe, and if his Sense is low,
He can compound for't with a Dance or Show.
And to conclude, he swears—
He does not doubt but he shall Feast to day,
Your sober Pallats with a serious Play.