University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE.

Our Author was afraid to have his Cause
Come before Judges who dispence with Laws.
For those he sees, are always kind to Fools,
But most severe to such as write by Rules.
They hate ev'n Nature too as much as Art,
And nothing but what's monstrous will divert.
Those Plays alone, that make 'em Laugh, delight,
Where folly oft succeeds as well as Wit.
So merry in their humours, we can scarce
Engage 'em now with any thing but Farce.
What hopes then that our serious Scenes will do?
They'll hardly spare 'em for their being new;
Their Novelty perhaps will give offence,
But above all we dread their Innocence;
Unless the Fair in their defence appear,
From whom, we hope, we have the least to fear:
Love, Pity, Innocence, of right belong
To those to judge of, who inspir'd the Song.
And if some persons fancy Farces best
Because their own dear Pictures make the Jest;
The fair have much more reason to esteem
The beauteous Images we draw from them.
To them the Soveraign Arbiters of Wit,
Our Author only would his Cause submit,
Whate're their censures are, he'll not presume
To think 'em hard, nor murmur at his doom.
As for the Criticks, tho he cannot trust
That they'll be either merciful or just,
Yet if this Play is by the Ladies lik'd,
He thinks they're too well bred to contradict.