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To fing away the day,
PROLOGUS. NAUFRAGIUM JOCULARE. Exi forasinepte; nullamne babebunt hic comediam ? Exi, inquam, inepte : aut incipiam ego cum Epilogo. Tun' jam Sophista junior, et modestus adhuc? Ego nihil possum, præter quod cætera folent, Salvete cives Attici, et corona Aorentiffima. :5 Utinam illam videretis, plus hoc spectaculo Rifuros vosmet credo, quam totâ in Comædiâ. Jam nunc per rimam aliquam ad vos omnes adfpicit. Nisi placidè intueamini, actum est de Puero. Tragedia isthæc siet, et Naufragium verum. Dicturus modo Prologum, novi,inquit; peccatummeum. Prodire, nisi personatus, in hanc frequentiam Non audet, et plus fuâ rubescit purpurâ. Illius ergò caufâ, finite exorator fsem Ut nequis Poëta vitio vortat novitio, Quodque non folet fieri, insolentiam putet. Nisi fari inceptaverit, Nemo eft futurus eloquens. Qui modò pulpitum fortius, aut Scenam concutit, Aliquandò balbutivit ac tinuit loqui.
19 Hieque annos novem pofcite; non eft, Spectatores opAdulta res, fed Puerilis, Ludere.
Vetus Poëta Comico cessit in convitium.
PROLOGUE TO THB GUARDIAN.
BEFORE THE PRINCE.
Wuo says the times do learning disallow?
Our only hope is this, that it
EPILOGUE TO THE GUARDIAN. The play, Great Sir! is done ; yet needs myft fear, Tho' you brought all your father's mercies here, It may offend your Highness, and we ’ave now Three hours done treason here, for ought we know. But pow'r your Grace can above Nature give, 5 It can give pow'r to make abortives live: In which, if our bold wishes should be crofs'd, "Tis but the life of one poor week 't has lost: Tho' it should fall beneath your mortal fcorn, Scarce could it die more quickly than 'twas born. 10 ? Volume I.
PROLOGUE, TO THE CUTTER OF COLEMAN-STREET, As when the midland fea is no where clear From dreadful fleets of Tunis and Argier, Which coast abont, to all they meet with foes, And opon which nought can be got but blows, The merchant ships fo much their paffage doubt, 5 That, tho' full-freighted, none dares venture out, And trade decays, and scarcity ensues : Just fo the tim'rous wits of late refuse, Tho'laded, to put forth upon the stage, Affrighted by the critics of this age. It is a party num'rous, watchful, bold; They can from nought, which fails in sight, with-hold. Nor do their cheap, tho' mortal, thunder spare; They shoot, alas! with wind-guns charg'd with air, But yet, Gentlemen Critics of Argier,
15 For your own intrest I'd advise ye here To let this little forlorn hope go by, Safe and untouch’d. That must not be, you'll cry. If ye be wise it must; I'll tell ye why.
19 There are fev'n, eight, nine, stay there are beTen plays at least, which wait but for a wind, [hind And the glad news that we the en’my miss, And those are all your own if you spare this. Some are but new trimm'd up, others quite new, Some by known shipwrights built, and others too 23
By that great Author made, whoe'er he be,
ADDED ÅT COURT.
Stay, Gentlemen; what I have said, was all