University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE, Spoke by Mr. Batterton.

If Dying Lovers yet deserve a Tear,
If a sad Story of a Maids Despair.
Yet move Compassion in the pitying Fair,
This Day the Poet does his Art employ,
The soft Accesses of your Souls to try.
Nor let the Stoick boast his Mind unmov'd,
The Brute Philosopher, who ne're has prov'd
The Joy of Loving or of being Lov'd;
Who scorns his humane Nature to confess,
And striving to be more than Man, is less.
Nor let the Men, the weeping Fair accuse
Those kind Protectors of the Tragick Muse,
Whose Tears did moving Otway's Labours crown,
And made the poor Monimia's Grief their own:
Those Tears, their Art, not Weakness has confest,
Their Grief approv'd the Niceness of their Tast,
And they wept most, because they judg'd the best.
O cou'd this Age's Writers hope to find
An Audience to Compassion thus inclin'd,
The Stage would need no Farce, nor Song nor Dance,
Nor Capering Monsieur brought from Active France.
Clinch and his Organ-Pipe, his Dogs and Bear,
To native Barnet might again repair,
Or breath with Captain Otter Bankside Air.
Majestick Tragedy shou'd once agen
In Purple Pomp adorn the swelling Scene.
Her search shou'd ransack all the Ancient's Store,
The Fortunes of their Loves and Arms explore,
Such as might grieve you, but shou'd please you more.
What Shakespear durst not, this bold Age shou'd do,
And famous Greek and Latin Beauties show.
Spakespear, whose Genius to its self a Law,
Cou'd Men in every height of Nature draw,
And copy'd all but Women that he saw.
Those Ancient Heroines your Concern shou'd move,
Their Grief and Anger much, but most their Love;
For in the Account of every Age we find
The best and fairest of that Sex were kind,
To Pity Always and to Love inclin'd.
Assert, ye fair ones, who in Judgment sit,
Your Ancient Empire over Love and Wit;
Reform our Sense, and teach the Men to Obey;
They'll leave their Tumbling if you lead the way.
Be but what those before to Otway were;
O were you but as kind, we know you are as fair