 | The Imperial Tragedy |  |
PROLOGUE.
Methinks I hear some travel'd Gallant say,When he was last at Rome, he saw this Play:
That Zeno there was Acted; we confess,
And hope that here he'l have as good success.
But we are pester'd with so many Wits,
And some, like Madmen, have such judging fits,
That this great Tragedy they may condemn;
Though, in a humor, they have pardon'd them,
Who rob the French and Spanish of their Bayes;
And make a fashion of Translating Playes.
To own his pattern, th'Author's not asham'd,
That Model, which in Italy was fram'd
He has new Moulded, for our English Stage;
Hoping 'twill fit the temper of this Age:
And the learn'd Latin Author not offend,
For alt'ring, what he dares not think to mend.
Though boldly it be here transformed so,
That Author cannot his own Issue know:
Like crafty Beggers, when they Children steal,
Disguise them; lest they should their Thefts reveal.
| The Imperial Tragedy | |