How this vile world is changed! In former days
Prologues were serious speeches before plays,
Grave, solemn things, as graces are to feasts,
Where poets begged a blessing from their guests.
But now no more like suppliants we come;
A play makes war, and prologue is the drum.
Armed with keen satire and with pointed wit,
We threaten you who do for judges sit,
To save our plays, or else we’ll damn your pit.
But for your comfort, it falls out to-day,
We’ve a young author and his first-born play;
So, standing only on his good behaviour,
He’s very civil, and entreats your favour.
Not but the man has malice, would he show it,
But on my conscience he’s a bashful poet;
You think that strange—no matter, he’ll outgrow it.
Well, I’m his advocate: by me he prays you
(I don’t know whether I shall speak to please you),
He prays—O bless me! what shall I do now?
Hang me if I know what he prays, or how!
And ’twas the prettiest prologue as he wrote it!
Well, the deuce take me, if I han’t forgot it.
O Lord, for heav’n’s sake excuse the play,
Because, you know, if it be damned to-day,
I shall be hanged for wanting what to say.
For my sake then—but I’m in such confusion,
I cannot stay to hear your resolution.

[Runs off.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

Heartwell, a surly oldbachelor, pretending to slight women, secretly in love withSilvia

Mr. Betterton.

Bellmour, in love withBelinda

Mr. Powell

Vainlove, capricious in hislove; in love with Araminta

Mr. Williams

Sharper

Mr. Verbruggen

Sir Joseph Wittol

Mr. Bowen

Captain Bluffe

Mr. Haines.

Fondlewife, a banker

Mr. Dogget

Setter, a pimp

Mr. Underhill

Servant to Fondlewife.

WOMEN.

Araminta, in love withVainlove

Mrs. Bracegirdle

Belinda, her cousin, anaffected lady, in love with Bellmour

Mrs. Mountfort

Lætitia, wife toFondlewife

Mrs. Barry

Sylvia, Vainlove’sforsaken mistress

Mrs. Bowman

Lucy, her maid

Mrs. Leigh

Betty.

Boy and Footmen.

Scene: London.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

SCENE: The Street.

Bellmour and Vainlove meeting.

BELL. Vainlove, and abroad so early! Good-morrow; I thought a contemplative lover could no more have parted with his bed in a morning than he could have slept in’t.