 | Innocence Betray'd : or, the Royal Impostor |  |
99
PROLOGUE.
A Messenger delivers a Letter, as from the Actors to the Prolocutor. After a short Perusal, she tears it with Resentment, and begins:
I won't
speak this
Prologue:—Go tell 'em so;
If they no Wit, I can some Manners shew.
I put on Airs, and huff the Audience!
Tell 'em 'tis rude; and argues Want of Sense.—
If they no Wit, I can some Manners shew.
I put on Airs, and huff the Audience!
Tell 'em 'tis rude; and argues Want of Sense.—
No, Ladies, I'll an humbler Method take,
And will presume no Prologue here to speak:
You thought I would,—but People may mistake.
And will presume no Prologue here to speak:
You thought I would,—but People may mistake.
Were you to wreck the fruitfullest Invention,
You can't imagine what is my Intention:
But, not to be too tedious, I'll explain
The mighty Project of my teeming Brain.
'Tis this,—With all due Reverence and Submission,
To sum up all our Wants in a Petition.
Were you to know how great is our Distress,
What Pains we take at Times like these for Dress,
We couldn't ask your Aid without Success.
You can't imagine what is my Intention:
But, not to be too tedious, I'll explain
The mighty Project of my teeming Brain.
'Tis this,—With all due Reverence and Submission,
To sum up all our Wants in a Petition.
Were you to know how great is our Distress,
What Pains we take at Times like these for Dress,
We couldn't ask your Aid without Success.
No Country Heiress, that to Town resorted,
Full of herself, and longing to be courted,
E'er took that Care to drive the City thro',
And ransack every Shop for something gay and new.
Full of herself, and longing to be courted,
E'er took that Care to drive the City thro',
And ransack every Shop for something gay and new.
First then, we move you, Gentlemen and Beaus,
To furnish us with all your finest Cloaths:
Fring'd Gloves, Tye-Wigs, Edg'd Hats, with smart Cockades,
And Morning Gowns made all of rich Brocades:
Embroider'd Coats and Waistcoats, if you'll spare them.
We ask no Breeches—'ten't our Place to wear 'em.
To furnish us with all your finest Cloaths:
Fring'd Gloves, Tye-Wigs, Edg'd Hats, with smart Cockades,
And Morning Gowns made all of rich Brocades:
Embroider'd Coats and Waistcoats, if you'll spare them.
We ask no Breeches—'ten't our Place to wear 'em.
100
Now to you, Ladies, humbly we apply
For a Fresh Grant of all your Finery:
Your Brilliants, Lockets, Watches, Tweezer-Cases,
Flow'rs for our Heads, and Patches for our Faces:
Hoops, Fringes, Store of Pins and Bodkins,
Beside a Thousand other little odd Things
Too tedious here in Order to express,
And not so proper for a Short Address.
We're All ambitious of appearing fine,
And fain would with uncommon Lustre shine.
Then send these Trinkets in without Delay,
And your Petitioners shall ever pray.
For a Fresh Grant of all your Finery:
Your Brilliants, Lockets, Watches, Tweezer-Cases,
Flow'rs for our Heads, and Patches for our Faces:
Hoops, Fringes, Store of Pins and Bodkins,
Beside a Thousand other little odd Things
Too tedious here in Order to express,
And not so proper for a Short Address.
We're All ambitious of appearing fine,
And fain would with uncommon Lustre shine.
Then send these Trinkets in without Delay,
And your Petitioners shall ever pray.
| Innocence Betray'd : or, the Royal Impostor | |