Fiction > Harvard Classics > Ben Jonson > The Alchemist
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Ben Jonson (1572–1637).  The Alchemist.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.
 
Prologue
 
  As even the doers may see, and yet not own.
 
FORTUNE, that favours fools, these two short hours
  We wish away, both for your sakes and ours,
Judging spectators; and desire, in place,
  To th’ author justice, to ourselves but grace.
Our scene is London, ’cause we would make known,        5
  No country’s mirth is better than our own:
No clime breeds better matter for your whore,
  Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more,
Whose manners, now call’d humours, feed the stage;
  And which have still been subject for the rage        10
Or spleen of comic writers. Though this pen
  Did never aim to grieve, but better men;
Howe’er the age he lives in doth endure
  The vices that she breeds, above their cure.
But when the wholesome remedies are sweet,        15
  And in their working gain and profit meet,
He hopes to find no spirit so much diseas’d,
  But will with such fair correctives be pleas’d:
For here he doth not fear who can apply.
  If there be any that will sit so nigh        20
Unto the stream, to look what it doth run
  They shall find things, they’d think or wish were done:
They are so natural follies, but so shown,
 

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