 | The usurper |  |
THE PROLOGUE TO THE USURPER.
As new made Pilots when they first Take Sea,Fear makes 'em think each Wave a Storm they see.
And when Arriv'd, at the Appointed Land;
Mistrust the Shoar, is some devouring Sand:
So here our Poet; having brought his Play
Unto the Stage, the Muses fatal Bay.
Fears even the Coast, he labour'd most to Steer;
Doubting his Danger will he Landing here.
But this same Itch of Wit, so fain would thrive;
Just as some Merchants, still with Losses strive;
That no successless Voyage made before,
Writers forewarns from Coming to this Shoar.
Who though here Beggar'd, still Design and Try
How to deserve, or get a Charity.
But in Good faith, 'tis held as hard a Task
To pardon Wit, as Give to All that Ask.
For here's the Difference, and the Danger too;
Wants will Presume, but Wit's oft poor from you.
In these Extreams, 'tis Difficult to say;
Which is most safe, a Good, or Bad, new Play.
Since 'tis his Danger, now who ere does writ,
To want a Pitty, or to meet a Spite.
Such strang Antipathies we well may fear,
Both from your failings, and our Authors here;
Yet I dare swear, He'l Count it his Good Hap,
Though Envy strike, if All of you will Clap.
| The usurper | |