PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES.

I.

PROLOGUE FOR THE LADY-ACTORS:

SPOKEN BEFORE K. CHARLES II.

AMAZE us not with that majestick frown,
But lay aside the greatness of your

crown!

And for that look which does your people awe,

When in your throne and robes you give them law,
Lay it by here, and give a gentler fmile,

Such as we fee great Jove's in picture, while
He liftens to Apollo's charming lyre,

Or judges of the songs he does infpire.
Comedians on the stage shew all their skill,
And after do as Love and Fortune will.
We are lefs careful, hid in this disguise;
In our own clothes more serious and more wife.
Modeft at home, upon the stage more bold,
We seem warm lovers, tho' our breafts be cold:
A fault committed here deferves no fcorn,
If we act well the parts to which we're born.

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Gij

II.

PROLOGUE

TO THE MAID'S TRAGEDY.

SCARCE fhould we have the boldness to pretend
So long-renown'd a tragedy to mend,
Had not already fome deferv'd your praise
With like attempt. Of all our elder plays
This and Philafter have the loudeft fame :
Great are their faults, and glorious is their flame.
In both our English genius is exprefs'd;
Lofty and bold, but negligently drefs'd.

Above our neighbours our conceptions are;
But faultlefs writing is th' effect of care.
Our lines reform'd, and not compos'd in haste,
Polish'd like marble, would like marble last.
But as the prefent, fo the last age writ:
In both we find like negligence and wit.
Were we but lefs indulgent to our faults,
And patience had to cultivate our thoughts,
Our Mufe would flourish, and a nobler rage
Would honour this than did the Grecian stage.
Thus fays our Author, not content to fee
That others write as carelessly as he;

Tho' he pretends not to make things complete,
Yet, to please you, he'd have the poets sweat.
In this old play, what 's new we have exprest
In rhyming verse, distinguish'd from the reft;

That as the Rhone its hafty way does make
(Not mingling waters) thro' Geneva's lake,
So having here the diff'rent styles in view,
You may compare the former with the new.
If we lefs rudely fhall the knot untie,
Soften the rigour of the tragedy,

And yet preserve each person's character,
Then to the other this you may prefer.
'Tis left to you: the Boxes and the Fit
Are fov'reign judges of this fort of wit.
In other things the knowing artist may
Judge better than the people; but a play,
(Made for delight, and for no other use)
If you approve it not, has no excuse.

III.

EPILOGUE

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TO THE MAID'S TRAGEDY. SPOKEN BY THE KING.

THE fierce Melantius was content, you fee,
The King should live; be not more fierce than he :
Too long indulgent to fo rude a time,

When love was held fo capital a crime,
That a crown'd head could no compaffion find,
But dy'd because the killer had been kind;
Nor is 't lefs strange such mighty wits as thofe
Should use a ftyle in tragedy like profe.

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Well-founding verse, where princes tread the stage,
Should speak their virtue, or describe their rage. 10
By the loud trumpet, which our courage aids,
We learn that found, as well as sense, perfuades:
And verses are the potent charms we use,
Heroick thoughts and virtue to infuse.
When next we act this tragedy again,
Unless you like the change, we fhall be flain.
The innocent Afpafia's life or death,
Amintor's too, depends upon your breath.
Excefs of love was heretofore the cause;
Now if we die 't is want of your applaufe.

IV.

EPILOGUE

TO THE MAID'S TRAGEDY.

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Defigned upon the firft alteration of the play, when the King only was left alive.

ASPASIA bleeding on the stage does lie,

To fhew you ftill 't is the Maid's Tragedy.
The fierce Melantius was content, you fee,

The King fhould live: be not more fierce than he :

Too long indulgent to fo rude a time,

When love was held so capital a crime,

That a crown'd head could no compaffion find,
But dy'd

because the killer had been kind!

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This better-natur'd Poet had repriev'd
Gentle Amintor too, had he believ'd
The fairer sex his pardon could approve,
Who to ambition facrific'd his love.
Afpafia he has fpar'd; but for her wound
(Neglected love!) there could no falve be found.
When next we act this tragedy again,

Unless you like the change, 1 must be slain,
Excefs of love was heretofore the cause;
Now if I die 't is want of your applause.

ΤΟ

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