 | The Fall of Bob : or, The Oracle of Gin |  |
PROLOGUE.
If
Novelty can please, I think 'tis clear,
In all, but want of Sense, you have it here:
For some small Spice of Sense, we pleaded hard
To have the whole quite new; our headstrong Bard
Wou'd not be mov'd, by all that we cou'd say,
And swore, we had a Mind to damn his Play.
My Tragick Vein, said he, must take the Town,
My Diction puts, ev'n Hurlo-Thrumbo down,
And soars beyond their Caption, or my own
For common Sense, it is exploded quite,
It checks the Poet in his rapid Flight;
That, and all Unity of Place and Time
We heartily despise, who write sublime.
Instead of Probability and these
Han't I Machines, and Harlequin to please?
Can you deny these Wit? Again, my Thunder,
And Light'ning's Blaze, will make an Audience wonder.
These are fine Stroaks of Wit, which raise a Name
And give an Author everlasting Fame:
These captivate the Sense, these give Delight,
These prove an Author does with Judgment write
And fill the House upon the Poet's Night.
Damn common Sense, 'tis so much out of Fashion,
I wou'd not write it, tho' to save a Nation.
In all, but want of Sense, you have it here:
For some small Spice of Sense, we pleaded hard
To have the whole quite new; our headstrong Bard
Wou'd not be mov'd, by all that we cou'd say,
And swore, we had a Mind to damn his Play.
My Tragick Vein, said he, must take the Town,
My Diction puts, ev'n Hurlo-Thrumbo down,
And soars beyond their Caption, or my own
For common Sense, it is exploded quite,
It checks the Poet in his rapid Flight;
That, and all Unity of Place and Time
We heartily despise, who write sublime.
Instead of Probability and these
Han't I Machines, and Harlequin to please?
Can you deny these Wit? Again, my Thunder,
And Light'ning's Blaze, will make an Audience wonder.
These are fine Stroaks of Wit, which raise a Name
And give an Author everlasting Fame:
These captivate the Sense, these give Delight,
These prove an Author does with Judgment write
And fill the House upon the Poet's Night.
Damn common Sense, 'tis so much out of Fashion,
I wou'd not write it, tho' to save a Nation.
That he may hit your Taste, your Favour win,
He has beside all these, the Ghost of Gin;
Coblers and Coopers, who reform the State,
Yet think it much below them to be great.
In these the Roman Spirit still survives,
For Gin and Liberty, they'll give their Lives:
Fearless of Death, resolving to be free,
But you shall see, by'nd bye what you shall see.
He has beside all these, the Ghost of Gin;
Coblers and Coopers, who reform the State,
Yet think it much below them to be great.
In these the Roman Spirit still survives,
For Gin and Liberty, they'll give their Lives:
Fearless of Death, resolving to be free,
But you shall see, by'nd bye what you shall see.
| The Fall of Bob : or, The Oracle of Gin | |