Take back your Sev’nty Years, (the stint of Life)
Or else be kind, and cram the Quintessence
Of Sev’nty Years into sweet Sev’nty Days:
For all the rest is flat, insipid Being.
I mention this the rather, because it may serve for one Instance of what Improvements our Modern Poets have made on the Ancients, when they built upon their Foundations. For we find that many of the fine things of the Ancients are like Seeds, that, when planted on English Ground by a Skilful Poet’s Hand, thrive, and produce excellent Fruit.
But I’m afraid this Preface has been too long and tedious for this small Piece; but the Press stays, and the hast I’m in will not permit me to make it shorter, or so much as review it; yet before I conclude, I must inform the Reader, that I had the Advantage of another’s doing their Plays before me; from whose Translation I had very considerable Helps, especially in the Jests and Quibbles.