University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE.

As a brisk Gallant dancing to his Glass,
Does here and there in nimble fleurets pass;
Likes every step, and wishes for a Ball,
Where he at once may shew his Parts to all:
So Poets (with the like conceit) undone,
Think that dull Verse which pleas'd 'em when alone,
Must have the like effect on the whole Town.
Our Poet all such hopes of Praise disclaimes,
Like a true Lover of the Sport, he Games,
And to come off a Saver only aimes.
Did he affect to be esteem'd a Wit,
Like you, he'd take an easier way to it:
Write Songs and Prologues, shew 'em up and down,
And tear applause from every Fool in Town;
Make Love to Vizards in a Wit-like Noise,
Dull in his Sense, yet aiery in his Voice,
Catch at each Line that grates, and keep ten good,
With his damn'd Noise, from being understood.
'Tis well most Wits have something of the Mad,
Or where shou'd Poets for the Stage be had?
Cripples may judge of Vaulting he well knows,
Cowards of Courage; and of Verse and Prose
They that know neither; yet if too severe
Damning those Gifts of which they have no share,
Their Envy more than Judgement will appear.
He none excepts, no, not his Enemies;
For those he hopes his Friends will counterpoise:
And spight of Faction on both sides he knows,
There is an honest Party in this House.