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PROLOGUE. AS 1 when a Tree’s cut down, the secret root | |
| Lives under ground, and thence new Branches shoot, | |
| So from old Shakespear’s honoured dust this day | |
| Springs up and buds a new reviving Play: | |
| Shakespear, who (taught by none) did first impart | 5 |
| To Fletcher Wit, to labouring Johnson Art; | |
| He Monarch-like, gave those his subjects law, | |
| And is that Nature which they paint and draw. | |
| Fletcher reach’d that which on his heights did grow, | |
| Whilst Johnson crept and gather’d all below. | 10 |
| This did his Love, and this his Mirth digest: | |
| One imitates him most, the other best. | |
| If they have since out-writ all other men, | |
| ’Tis with the drops which fell from Shakespear’s Pen. | |
| The Storm which vanish’d on the Neighbring shore | 15 |
| Was taught by Shakespear’s Tempest first to roar. | |
| That Innocence and Beauty, 2 which did smile | |
| In Fletcher, grew on this Enchanted Isle. | |
| But Shakespear’s Magick could not copy’d be; | |
| Within that Circle none durst walk but he. | 20 |
| I must confess ’twas bold, nor would you now | |
| That liberty to vulgar Wits allow, | |
| Which works by Magick supernatural things; | |
| But Shakespear’s pow’r is sacred as a King’s. | |
| Those Legends from old Priest-hood were receiv’d, | 25 |
| And he then writ, as People then believ’d. | |
| But if for Shakespear we your grace implore, | |
| We for our Theatre shall want it more; | |
| Who by our dearth of Youths are forc’d t’ employ | |
| One of our Women to present a Boy. | 30 |
| And that’s a transformation you will say | |
| Exceeding all the Magick in the Play. | |
| Let none expect in the last Act to find | |
| Her Sex transform’d from Man 3 to Womankind. | |
| What e’re she was before the Play began, | 35 |
| All you shall see of her is perfect Man. | |
| Or, if your fancy will be farther led | |
| To find her Woman, it must be abed. | |
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EPILOGUE Gallants, by all good Signs it does appear | |
| That Sixty Seven’s a very damning Year, | 40 |
| For Knaves aboard, 4 and for ill Poets here. | |
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| Among the Muses there’s a gen’ral Rot; | |
| The Rhyming Monsieur and the Spanish Plot, | |
| Defie or court, all’s one, they go to Pot. | |
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| The Ghosts of Poets walk within this place, | 45 |
| And haunt us Actors wheresoe’re we pass, | |
| In Visions bloodier than King Richard’s was. | |
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| Forthis poor Wretch, he has not much to say, | |
| But quietly brings in his Part o’ th’ Play, | |
| And begs the Favour to be damn’d to-day. | 50 |
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| He sends me only like a Sh’riffs 5 man here | |
| To let you know the Malefactor’s neer, | |
| And that he means to dye en cavalier. | |
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| For, if you shou’d be gracious to his Pen, | |
| Th’ Example will prove ill to other Men, | 55 |
| And you’ll be troubled with ’em all agen. | |
