University of Virginia Library

The Prologue. Written by a Friend, and spoke by Mr. Betterton.

The Town, and Fortune are too well agreed;
With them the Impudent alone succeed;
The forward pushing Spark in Plenty lives,
By Farce he fattens, and by Nonsense Thrives
While those whom Faction, nor Cabal support
May starve by Sense, and thank their Judgment for't.
Your common Road, we begg you'l leave to Night
And in your constant Change once deviate into Right.
A modest Poet is a Thing so rare.
Th'unfashionable Fool you still shou'd spare.
A moral story, he with Pains, has wrought
With Care corrected, and improv'd by Thought,
And giv'n you, what you seldom see, a Plot.
So ill our Poets have the Patriot shown
That they have sung all Countries but their own,
Old and new Greece, France, Italy, and Spain;
Nay distant China, and remote Japan.
In sooty Afric too, they've Hero's found;
Afric for other Monsters still renown'd
Our Bards, with Heroes too have made abound.
Each barbarous Corner of the Earth they've sought
And fron each barbarous Corner Heroes brought.
From India tawny Braves, and Blacks from Guinny;
Secure with forraign Baubles still to Win ye.
Our Vent'rous Poet makes a bold Essay
To show Domestic Virtue here to day,
And draw a generous Nation in a Play.
The Minor-Wits whose Malice never fails
May damn his Play because he sings of Wales.
The World of old has of her Heroes rung
Nor shou'd you slight the Race from whence you sprung.
For Virtue sure we need not flie to Rome,
Or Greece for Beauty, who have more at home.
These Glorious Theams shou'd be our Poets Care,
'Twou'd warm the Gallant more, and move the Fair
If viewing ours they foun'd your Pictures there.