And yet you’ll come but once, unless by stealth,
Except the Author be for Commonwealth;
Then half Crown more you [nobly throw away],
And tho my Lady seldom see a Play,
She, with her eldest Daughter, shall be boxt that day.
Then Prologue comes, Ads-lightikins, crys Sir John,
You shall hear notable Conceits anon:
How neatly, Sir, he’ll bob the Court and French King,
And tickle away—you know who—for Wenching.
[All this won’t do], they e’en may spare their Speeches,