 | The Fatal Marriage : or, the Innocent Adultery |  |
PROLOGUE. Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.
When once a Poet settles an ill Name,Let him Write well, or ill, 'tis all the same:
For Criticks now a days, like Flocks of Sheep,
All follow, when the first has made the leap.
And, do you Justice, most are well enclin'd
To censure Faults you know not how to find:
Some cavil at the Style, and some the Actors;
For right or wrong, we pass for Malefactors.
Some well-bred Persons carp at the Decorum,
As if they bore the Drawing-Room before 'em.
Sometimes your soft respectful Spark discovers,
Our Ladies are too coming to their Lovers;
For they who still pursue, but ne'r enjoy,
In every case expect a Siege of Troy.
There are some others too who offer Battel,
And with their Time, and Place, maul Aristotle.
Ask what they mean, and after some Grimace,
They tell you, Twelve's the Time; and for the Place,
The Chocolate-House, at the Looking-glass.
To please such Judges, some have tir'd their Brains,
And almost had their Labour for their pains:
After a Twelve-month vainly spent in Plotting,
These melted Criticks cry 'tis good for Nothing;
But wiser Authors turn their Plots upon you,
And Plot to purpose when they get your Money.
| The Fatal Marriage : or, the Innocent Adultery | |