 | The Fairy-Queen |  |
THE PROLOGUE.
What have we left untry'd to please this Age,To bring it more in liking with the Stage?
We sunk to Farce, and rose to Comedy;
Gave you high Rants, and well-writ Tragedy.
Yet Poetry, of the Success afraid,
Call'd in her Sister Musick to her aid.
And, lest the Gallery should Diversion want,
We had Cane-Chairs to Dance 'em a Courant.
But that this Play may in its Pomp appear;
Pray let our Stage from thronging Beaux be clear.
For what e're cost we're at, what e're we do,
In Scenes, Dress, Dances; yet there's many a Beau,
Will think himself a much more taking show.
How often have you curs'd these new Beau-skreens,
That stand betwixt the Audience and the Scenes?
I ask'd one of 'em t'other day—Pray, Sir,
Why d'ye the Stage before the Box prefer?
He answer'd—Oh! there I Ogle the whole Theatre,
My Wig—my Shape, my Leg, I there display,
They speak much finer things than I can say.
These are the Reasons why they croud the Stage;
And make the disappointed Audience rage.
Our Business is, to study how to please,
To Tune the Mind to its expected ease.
And all that we expect, is but to find,
Equal to our Expence, the Audience kind.
| The Fairy-Queen | |