[THE PROLOGUE AT COURT.]
Had not obedience o'errul'd the Author's fear
And judgment too, this humble piece had ne'er
Approach'd so high a majesty: not writ
By the exact and subtle rules of wit,
Ambitious for the splendour of this night,
But fashion'd up in haste for 's own delight.
This by my lord[271] with as much zeal as e'er
Warm'd the most loyal heart, is offer'd here,
To make this night your pleasure, although we,
Who are the actors, fear 'twill rather be
Your patience; and if any mirth, we may
Sadly suspect, 'twill rise quite the wrong way.
But you have mercy, sir; and from your eye,
Bright madam, never yet did lightning fly;
But vital beams of favour, such as give
A growth to all who can deserve to live.
Why should the author tremble then, or we
Distress our hopes, and such tormentors be
Of our own thoughts? since in those happy times
We live, when mercy's greater than the crimes.
FOOTNOTES:
[271] Meaning, most likely, the Earl of Pembroke, at whose instance the play was represented before the King and Queen at court.—Collier.
[THE PROLOGUE AT THE FRIARS.]
Ere we begin, that no man may repent
Two shillings and his time, the Author sent
The prologue with the errors of his play,
That, who will, may take his money and away.
First for the plot, it's no way intricate
By cross deceits in love, nor so high in state,
That we might have given out in our playbill,
This day's "The Prince," writ by Nick Machiavil.
The language too is easy, such as fell
Unstudied from his pen: not like a spell
Big with mysterious words, such as enchant
The half-witted, and confound the ignorant.
Then what must needs afflict the amorist,
No virgin here in breeches casts a mist
Before her lover's eyes: no ladies tell,
How their blood boils, how high their veins do swell.
But, what is worse, no bawdy mirth is here
(The wit of bottle-ale and double-beer),
To make the wife of citizen protest,
And country-justice swear 'twas a good jest.
Now, sirs, you have the errors of his wit:
Like or dislike, at your own perils be't.