Then such an Awkard mein, and vulgar sence,

I vow, I wonder at his Impudence!

’Tis well Lejere appear’d, George owes the prize

To the Gay Monsieur, Footmen and Disguise,

Charms which few English Women can withstand,

What can’t a Man of Quality command?

As to the faults, or Merits of the Play We leave ye to be judges of, yet say, Ye ought in justice to be kind to day.
For to our Cost alas, we soon shall find, Perhaps not half the money ye design’d, Consider, Sirs, it goes to be refin’d.

And since in all Exchanges ’tis a notion,

For what ye take to be in due proportion,

So may we justly hope no wrong is done ye