 | The Great Favourite, Or, the Duke of Lerma |  |
Epilogue Spoken by Mr s. Ellen.
Much
injur'd Gentlemen, may you now please,
You true Committee of such Grievances,
Kindly to hear me now, and I will show it,
We have been all ill us'd, by this days Poet.
'Tis our joynt Cause; I know you in your hearts
Hate serious Plays, as I do serious Parts,
To trouble us with Thoughts and State-designs,
A melancholly Plot ty'd with strong Lines,
I had not the least Part to day you see,
Troth, he has neither writ for you, nor me;
You are not har'd to please; though a Poet scarce
Can make a Play, yet he might make a Farce,
With small ridiculous things to stuff it full
And make you pay to laugh, not to be dull.
You true Committee of such Grievances,
Kindly to hear me now, and I will show it,
We have been all ill us'd, by this days Poet.
'Tis our joynt Cause; I know you in your hearts
Hate serious Plays, as I do serious Parts,
To trouble us with Thoughts and State-designs,
A melancholly Plot ty'd with strong Lines,
I had not the least Part to day you see,
Troth, he has neither writ for you, nor me;
You are not har'd to please; though a Poet scarce
Can make a Play, yet he might make a Farce,
With small ridiculous things to stuff it full
And make you pay to laugh, not to be dull.
Henceforth, against all sad and Grave intreagues
We'll make Offensive, and Defensive Leagues;
And for all those that dare write Tragedy
We'll make a Law, with a huge Penalty;
And yet few Poets, so much Wealth possess,
Or Witt; where you might Leavy a Distress;
Let the Grave Poets then trouble but few
Write Elegies on men, which few men knew,
And few perhaps will read; or let 'em write
Rhimes for the Bell man, to be spoke at night.
We'll make Offensive, and Defensive Leagues;
And for all those that dare write Tragedy
We'll make a Law, with a huge Penalty;
And yet few Poets, so much Wealth possess,
Or Witt; where you might Leavy a Distress;
Let the Grave Poets then trouble but few
Write Elegies on men, which few men knew,
And few perhaps will read; or let 'em write
Rhimes for the Bell man, to be spoke at night.
This Poet may be pardon'd, lest it be said
You did condemn before the Law was made;
I mean, if's Play be good, I tell you True,
He thinks it is, but pray now, what think you.
You did condemn before the Law was made;
I mean, if's Play be good, I tell you True,
He thinks it is, but pray now, what think you.
FINIS.
| The Great Favourite, Or, the Duke of Lerma | |